Besotted (Beguiling Bachelors Book 4)

by Madison Michael

  The move would have been ideal if it had been with Tyler, but it wasn't. He was in her former office now, the official and sole head of Lyons Howe until the board found Ethan competent to take the helm. Tyler had been in the position half a year already, and she reluctantly admitted he was doing a fantastic job.

  Six months. No wonder Brandon was impatient. She had been pushing him away even as she planned to marry him. Enough time had passed. It was reasonable for him to expect an answer from her. When she wasn't tired, when he didn't ignore her wishes, he was attentive and kind. He loved showing her off and sharing his town. They had fun together.

  And he wanted to marry her, commit to her for life. Tyler offered her nothing to compete with that. Although Regan resisted, eventually even she was forced to relinquish her girlish dreams of a future with Tyler Winthrop, She had the memories, including an incredible weekend right out of a steamy novel. Those would have to hold her for a lifetime since Tyler offered nothing more. She understood that now.

  After a few weeks in DC, she had stopped calling Tyler with business excuses, feeling transparent and exposed in her efforts to connect with him. It hurt when he treated her with nothing but professionalism. She missed the innuendo, heat, and tension between them. It died the instant she told him she had accepted the DC job. He had been thrilled for her as she had known he would be, but from that moment on, there was a wall between them. The teasing, flirtatious Tyler, asking her to be patient and full of promises for the future, disappeared. In his place was a competent CEO with overwhelming anger.

  Heading up to the bedroom after refilling her wine glass, Regan recalled the hurt on Tyler's face and his words when he had learned of her plans. She would need bottles of wine to numb herself from those memories.

  "What about us?" he cut straight to the chase. "You are choosing Brandon, after all of this?" Tyler buried the hurt in his eyes and the defeat in his voice beneath a fiery display of temper. "After the way we kissed, the way we touched, I was just an easy fuck for you?"

  Regan had cringed at the hurtful words, just as he knew she would. "Tyler, that's not fair. You knew how things stood. Hell, that's why you have this job."

  "I have this job because I came to fight for you, to win you back. Now you're going to give up and let this man run your life? Because that is what Brandon is doing Ree, he is taking over your life." Regan recalled the way Tyler had paced the large office, his stride eating up space. "He is vacuous, Ree, using you for your brains, your poise, and personality. If he didn't have money…"

  "Stop right now, Tyler. That's not fair to Brandon or me."

  "Like I give a shit," Tyler stopped pacing and faced her. "He's using you. I know it."

  "Brandon loves me. He is not using me. He could have his pick of women, but he chose me.”

  "He doesn't love you the way I do. I love you, Ree. "

  "Why tell me that now?" Regan demanded, refusing to allow the words to penetrate. "It's too little too late. You've had years and years to make this right between us, but nothing. You gave me nothing."

  “I couldn’t, Ree.”

  "And now, what can you give me now? Are you offering me a future, a life together, marriage?"

  Tyler's face crumbled, and he turned away from her. "Not right now," he mumbled, "but…"

  "Enough with the buts, Tyler. There is always a but. I am done with buts.” She motioned to her door and he moved slowly toward it, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

  “Ree, I need more time,” he begged.

  "Well then, there you have it," Regan announced, "I will be leaving in ten days. That's how long you have for me and work. Let's plan to transition everything by then."

  Later that day those three words finally seeped into her brain. He loved her. Tyler still loved her. He came back to fight for her, but then he gave up, leaving her more confused than before. He pulled her close then pushed her away. She cried buckets but stuck with her decision. Tyler might love her, but after all these years he was still hiding secrets and asking for time. Always more time. He would never marry her. There would be no happily ever after in their future, and she didn't know why.

  So she had returned to Brandon, to build a future with a wonderful man who made her laugh, who wanted her and never failed to say so. After tonight, Regan worried about committing to him. Brandon's hands and lips were terrific. The man was handsome and sexy as sin. He was smart and funny, destined for great things. He would be any woman's ideal. Except Regan's. He wasn't Tyler.

  When he touched her, Regan compared Brandon's touch to Tyler's. Same with his kisses, or the feel of his skin. When Tyler called her pet names, she melted. When Brandon did it, she cringed. At the end of a great day, it was Tyler she wanted to talk to, not Brandon.

  And damn Tyler for his accusations, but Regan was starting to sense that Tyler was right about Brandon. Despite the lovely packaging, the gift was disappointing. Brandon appeared to be using her. First, there were the rounds of talk shows and parties where he put her on display, constantly telling people they were engaged, consistently adding Regan's lineage to his remarks. He was pedigree dropping, and it was unattractive.

  Recently, Brandon had begun bringing up fundraising and money. Until the last few weeks, Regan had blamed Tyler and his insidious seed of doubt, but she could no longer deny that the only person Brandon was interested in was Brandon. She didn’t doubt that he loved her, in his own way, but he loved his political ambitions more. It was eating at her, and driving a wedge between them. She replayed his actions repeatedly, looking for another angle, hoping she was mistaken, but each time she returned to the same conclusion.

  It had started gradually. On Regan's phone calls home, Brandon would chime in: would she please remind her family that he was having a campaign fundraiser? Might they attend, or send a small donation? That quickly expanded to requests that they host fundraising events, or underwrite ad campaigns. He was asking for expenditures that amounted to small fortunes.

  "What about talking to your family?" she had suggested one night when they were leaving a campaign benefit. He had been complaining all night that the take would not be big enough. "Couldn't you underwrite this yourself, Brandon, or ask your folks?"

  “Are you saying you don’t think your family should invest in our future?”

  "That is not what I am saying, and you know it." Regan took a deep breath to reduce the sharpness in her tone. "But you have been asking them for quite a lot recently, and I have not seen you tapping your resources."

  “You’re right,” he conceded, “I will call them tomorrow.”

  But when that scenario happened a second time, and then a third, she started to hear Tyler's words in her head. How she wished he had never said them.

  Going through the motions, getting ready for bed, Regan tried to block all the arguments of the last month from her mind. She had moved to Washington to build a life with Brandon, but she was already finding fault and looking for a way out. Maybe he was not the man for her.

  It wasn't his fault, Regan presented the opposing position. She had not given him a fair shake. Brandon loved her, she told herself again. He was anxious to marry her. So, he was ambitious. That was no crime. She needed to focus on why she found Brandon so attractive in the first place and get back to that place. Regan vowed to push Tyler from her mind and be more patient with Brandon, to approach her relationship with Brandon with an open mind. She would give him every chance before she gave up on him.

  Slipping into a silky camisole the color of a shiny penny, Regan slid between the sheets and lay in the darkness, waiting for the wine to dull her senses and allow her to sleep. She felt the slippery material brush against her nipples and thought of Tyler’s fingers, gentle sometimes, sexy and rough other times. She missed those hands and the magic they could do.

  Stop thinking about him. It's just the fabric, the wine, and Brandon's kisses, Regan convinced herself. Stop, stop, stop thinking of Tyler. She had vowed to focus on Brando
n less than thirty minutes ago.

  Regan started breathing as slowly as she could, concentrating on her deep breaths, working to clear her mind. Her phone pinged from the bedside table. She picked it up expecting to see a thoughtful text from Brandon to say a final goodnight. It was a final goodnight, alright, But not the one she expected. It was from Tyler.

  “Can’t stop wanting you. Come home to me. Please.”

  So much for not thinking about Tyler. He was toying with her. After a month of silence, he was back inside her head. Who was she kidding? He never left. With texts like this, Regan was back to square one, fighting her mind, her body, and her treacherous heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tyler

  “This is incredibly embarrassing to admit, but I drunk texted your sister last night.”

  “Oh, jeez,” Ethan remarked. “Anything I should know about?”

  “It’s bad enough she knows. No way I am repeating it to you.”

  "Then why even tell me, Ty?"

  “Good question, pipsqueak. Forget I mentioned it.” Tyler fussed with the few items on his clean desktop to cover his embarrassment.

  "I will if you stop using that annoying nickname. I outgrew it years ago."

  "Only in your mind," Tyler laughed. He pushed back in the executive chair, resting his feet on the edge of the desk. The two men had started a habit of meeting over coffee every morning, shooting the breeze and discussing the work of the day. Tyler might tease Ethan as if he were still the kid from his childhood but once they got down to business, he treated him with the respect he was earning.

  "Let's get to work."

  "So, you're not going to tell me what you wrote? Please tell me you told her you want her back. I can't stand Brandon. Go fight for her.”

  "What?" Tyler's head shot up at the statement, all ears. "You never told me that before."

  “Yeah, I think I did. Or I at least encouraged you a hundred times to go after Regan and bring her back home.”

  "Ethan, I can't do that." Tyler heard the resolution in his voice. Despite the text – he wasn't drunk this morning. “I would never come between Regan and her dream job.” Now, interfering with her and Brandon was another story…

  “I think you can, Ty. I think she is just waiting for you to rescue her from the clutches of that pushy S.O.B.”

  “There is nothing wrong with ambition. The man is a go-getter.” Tyler contradicted everything he had said to Regan. “You can’t survive in politics otherwise. It’s how he got to the Senate.”

  “It’s how he got my sister,” Ethan interrupted, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, Wyatt thinks it’s about the money.”

  “Anyone would want Regan. She’s smart, funny, loving, and besides, Brandon’s family has tons of money of its own,” Ty countered.

  Ethan was whispering now. "Brandon keeps hitting us up for campaign funds, making Wyatt suspicious. Now he's convinced it's a sham. The Hackney’s had money at some point," Ethan confided, "but Wyatt has been doing some digging, and he thinks that they have depleted their coffers." Ethan sat back in the chair, slouching and stretching his long legs out in front of him. As he sat back, Tyler leaned forward, fully engaged.

  "It's just the campaign. Running for office must cost a fortune," Tyler argued, hearing the uncertainty creeping into his voice. "He's covering everything else, right?"

  “Well…”

  “Spill, pipsqueak,” Tyler commanded.

  Ethan cringed at the title but spoke up. "He wants their new house in her name, not his."

  “They found a place?” Tyler felt a fist crushing his heart. They were moving in together.

  "Maybe, but she is dragging her feet, Ty. I think she is waiting for you to save her."

  "I am not some white knight, Ethan. Trust me on that one. Not even close." Tyler began rearranging the few items on his desk unconsciously until Ethan put them right back.

  “Cut it out, Ty.”

  Tyler couldn't contain his energy, but he stilled his hand and began pumping his foot behind the desk instead. Ethan couldn't see the nerves coursing through his blood, but Tyler feared they would explode from his veins. He couldn’t let this man hurt Regan, but he was in no position to intervene.

  “Yeah, that’s what my folks say, too.” Leaving that statement hanging, Ethan oozed from the chair, opened the office door and asked Donna for a refill on his coffee. She gave him an evil eye, but she came into the office, grabbed the carafe, sent a longing look Tyler’s way and sashayed out to get them a fresh pot.

  “Why were your parents talking about me?”

  "Who said they were?" The half-smile lifting Ethan's lips gave him away, so Tyler just turned a hard stare at the younger man and waited for him to cave. It took less than fifteen seconds.

  "Okay, okay," Ethan plopped back into the chair, extending his hands as if to ward Tyler off. "They have been talking about you a lot. With Wyatt, to be honest. About when you would return to Lyon's Solutions, about whether you had changed and could be trusted. What do they mean by that?"

  Did they know? Tyler had suspected that Wyatt's dad knew about his long-ago misdeeds in high school. He felt that his objection to the relationship with Regan stemmed from that knowledge. But no one ever said anything, so Tyler had never been sure. Had Wyatt known too?

  "I don't know what they mean, Ethan," Tyler lied smoothly. After all, he had years of experience lying to people's faces. Just thinking about it made him feel sick. "Maybe you could just ask them."

  "Well, whatever it means, they think you could stick around here another year and then go back to Solutions, but that if things speed up, you might lure Regan home."

  Tyler slammed his palm on the desk. “Damn it. You guys need to stop trying to bring Regan back. She is in the perfect job.” Tyler lowered his voice. “ And she’s on the verge of a notable marriage,” he added in a mumble.

  “It’s not the job,” Ethan said, as Donna knocked and reentered with the coffee. The conversation lagged as she bent over the mug on Tyler’s desk, displaying just enough cleavage to tempt a lesser man. Tyler discreetly looked away. With a sigh, she placed the carafe on the sideboard, ignoring Ethan entirely, and left in a huff.

  "That girl's got it bad for you, Ty. Anyway, where was I?" Ethan poured himself the fragrant brew and started to pace the office. "Oh yeah, it's not about the job. Wyatt said something about delaying a home purchase, and an engagement announcement to give you time."

  “To give me time?” Tyler felt the rapid thud in his chest. Had the Howe family had a change of heart? Were they on his side?

  "Yep, I am sure they said ‘to give you time.' Wyatt has been bitching about Brandon since the golf outing, and even my mom is dragging her feet on a big society wedding now. My father said you had ‘turned a corner' but Wyatt said: not quite, but he thought you were close. What the hell are they talking about?"

  "Ethan, take your coffee and get out," Tyler commanded, not unkindly. Tyler shouted for Donna to get Wyatt on the phone. "Now."

  Ethan yanked the door open, and Tyler could hear him laughing as he moved down the hall. Donna told him Wyatt was on the line.

  “How much do you know?” Tyler began without preamble.

  “Not enough. You ready to talk?”

  "I think I am," Tyler admitted, not even asking why Wyatt knew what he was discussing. "How long have you been waiting for me to call you?"

  "Twenty years, Ty. I have been waiting twenty years for you to trust me. It's about fucking time."

  “It’s not about trust, Wyatt. We can’t talk on the phone. Ditka’s, half an hour. We may as well eat.”

  As soon as they saw each other, Tyler spoke up. "I think they might have my phones tapped. Wyatt, this might get dangerous. Anything you know could be dangerous."

  “Danger is my middle name, my friend.”

  “How much time have you got?” Tyler asked, feeling the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders.

  “Well, t
hat depends. An hour? A lifetime? How much time do you need?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tyler

  Jonathan Chen slipped into the leather booth quickly, checking over his shoulder one last time before settling nervously and turning to his companions.

  "I don't think anyone followed me, but I don't know how to be sure."

  “If you didn’t see anyone, we’re good,” Tyler explained. “These guys aren’t subtle, and they would stick out like a sore thumb in this place.”

  This place was Ditka's Steakhouse, a room of hushed voices and dimmed lighting. Tyler had Donna call his father and lawyer to meet him here the moment he made the arrangements with Wyatt. If he were going to spill his guts, he would rather only do it once.

  The four men were in the last booth against the far wall. No one sat beside them, and it would remain that way. Tyler sat with a perfect view of the entrance. He would know if anyone entered, and except the servers - all of whom Tyler had vetted already - anyone trying to eavesdrop would be noticeable.

  “Okay, now that we’ve played Sherlock Holmes, can we get down to business?” Jonathan Chen asked kindly.

  “What’s your rush, Chen? You bill hourly,” Tyler teased him.

  “Oh yeah,” the small Asian lawyer answered with a grin, “take all the time you want.”

  "Seriously," Tyler continued, "Jonathan's right. We have a lot to cover. Here's what I know so far. The guys I went to jail with.."

  “Excuse me?” Wyatt’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh, did I leave that part out? More on that later,” Tyler responded cryptically. “Jail, Europe. They’re almost the same.”

  "Tyler, you aren't helping," his father scolded. "Just bring them up to speed now."

  "Okay. So, at the end of high school, I stole a car with some kids. We were going to take it for a joy ride and return it, but it was a Ferrari. That's why we wanted it, of course. Got caught, after all, who would notice a bunch of kids crammed into a bright red Ferrari speeding along residential roads? We were idiots. My folks thought it would teach me a lesson if I spent six weeks in the slammer. They forgot that they were imprisoning me with the same guys that convinced me to steal a car. My parents hushed it up by saying I went to Europe. I went along with the lies in exchange for my college tuition. How'd I do, Father? Adequate summation?"