As Tears Go By

by Lydia Michaels

  * * * *

  Monday morning Becca rushed into her office, depositing her files and coffee on her desk and quickly revisited her presentation for the meeting that morning.

  “How was the rest of your weekend?”

  Becca’s gaze bounced from the computer screen as Nikki lounged in the doorway. Her sharp pantsuit and slicked back hair hid a goodly amount of her wild side. “It was fine. Quiet.”

  “Will you have to see Kevin tonight?”

  Becca sighed. There were the unannounced moments that Kevin popped in to pick up more crap he “forgot”, but that wasn’t the case this time. These transitional encounters would be the norm until he demanded a change to their agreement. She needed to get past the reoccurring trepidation. “Yes, but I’m getting used to it. He’ll only be there for a minute or two.”

  Nikki nodded her understanding. “You ready for your meeting?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Good. Mr. Dillard’s assistant just arrived. The rest of them should be here shortly.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.”

  Nikki left and Becca saved her work to a thumb drive. The anxiety was already building at the thought of seeing Kevin that night, so she submerged herself in work and focused on preparing her presentation.

  At two minutes to nine, she gathered her materials and headed to the conference room. Mr. Dillard and his assistant, Mike, were already seated. She set her items on the table and smiled.

  Extending her hand, she said, “It’s a pleasure to have you back, Mr. Dillard. I think you’ll be happy with the company presenting today. Their architects are all fresh minds with diverse backgrounds in commercial branding.”

  Mr. Dillard shook her hand. “I’m sure you won’t disappoint, Becca.”

  They settled into their seats and she slipped the thumb drive into her laptop. Making sure everything was lined up with the overhead, she set her presentation to the first slide. Eyeing the clock, she stifled her nerves, hoping that the architect reps would be there soon. “Can I get you more coffee before we begin?”

  “No, thank you. We have everything we need. Should we wait?”

  Her toes twitched in her shoes under the table. Come on. Finally the door opened. A slender woman with a cocoa complexion stepped in and Becca breathed a sigh of relief.

  The woman, dressed in a slate gray power suit, extended her hand. “Sorry we’re late. I’m Miranda Robinson. Mr. McCullough will be with us in a moment.”

  Hands were shaken and Becca again offered refreshments. When the door opened again, every nerve in her body tensed as Braydon stepped into the conference room. Oh my God!

  Forcing her mouth shut, she formed a poor excuse for a smile. Braydon stilled only for the briefest second, and extended his hand to her. “Braydon McCullough.”

  “Becca… Stevens,” she greeted tightly, ignoring the jangling of nerves racing up her arm as he gently shook her hand. Her body shivered with too many reminders of how he had touched her so intimately.

  His casual grin appeared sincere, but there was no missing the shrewd set of his eyes. He was angry with her.

  Turning away from his scrutiny, she quickly said, “Mr. McCullough, this is Mr. Dillard, CEO of Apricot Inc. and his assistant, Mike.”

  The men shook hands and Becca returned to her chair. Everyone took their seats and stared at her expectantly.

  “Shall we get started, Becca?” Mr. Dillard prompted.

  “Oh. Right.” Kick-starting her delayed brain, she turned to the overhead screen. “Apricot Inc. has been a trusted brand among the…” As she dove into her presentation, her mind working on autopilot, she tried to fight back the sense that Braydon’s eyes were not on the screen, but on her. Extremely self-conscious of every word’s pronunciation and every twitch of her body, she hoped to God her scripted spiel was making sense. This was a big deal for their company.

  Somehow, she reached the end of her pitch without screwing up too badly—she hoped. “So you see, it is with complete faith that our company recommends Bradford Architectural Corp. to set the new trend in the market and create a renaissance, a rebirth, of the great company that is, and will continue to be, Apricot Inc.”

  Miranda appeared pleased. Mr. Dillard also looked happy. She didn’t dare glance at Braydon.

  “I’m intrigued,” Mr. Dillard said. “Why don’t you show us what you prepared?”

  She’d maneuvered her posture so Braydon was at her back. When his chair squeaked she tensed. His tall form came into view as he carried a small thumb drive to the front of the conference room. “May I?”

  Her breath caught as he reached over and closed out her program. Removing her drive, he slipped his USB into the port and punched in a few keys. His familiar scent swirled around her like an opiate. Shutting her eyes, growing dizzy with memories of his body filling hers, his hands touching and caressing her flesh, his mouth—

  “Bradford would like to take Apricot to a new dimension…” Braydon’s deep voice took command of the room.

  Becca’s eyes flashed open as he dominated the meeting with his presence. Easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, only now he was dressed in another sharp suit that did wonderful things to his broad chest, strong shoulders, and piercing blue eyes. This one wasn’t the same deep blue he’d warn the other night, but she liked him in gray as well.

  As he presented, various things became apparent. When necessary, Braydon possessed quite the commanding attitude. This made her recollection of their tender yet deliciously forceful encounter seem all the more intimate.

  Commercial architecture was a lucrative profession. He presented with a polished ease she didn’t think she’d quite mastered in her career. They were in two different leagues. She was simple functionality and he was sophisticated luxury. The memory of their one night together replayed with resounding mortification.

  It was only a ten minute presentation, but it lasted entirely too long for Becca’s poor, palpitating heart. By the time Braydon concluded his show of designs for Apricot’s headquarters and chain of future franchises, she felt drunk. Drunk with very wet panties and very hot cheeks.

  Braydon returned to his seat and her lashes lowered as her head swirled. Even from two feet away, her body reacted as if he was on top of her.

  Miranda took over. “So, gentlemen, as you can see, we’ve taken your mom and pop appeal and turned it into something superior, without losing that mom and pop impression. Every franchise will boast the same conveniences and treasured amenities as the original Apricot Inc. Neighborhoods everywhere will gain a sense of familiar homecoming whenever they cross Apricot’s threshold, no matter what state they’re in.”

  Mr. Dillard nodded, a satisfied curve to his mouth. “I like it. Mike, what do you think?”

  “I have a few notes on schematics, but other than that I think it’s great.”

  “Wonderful,” Miranda said. “Braydon will forward the paperwork to Mrs. Stevens, and we can carry on from there once you initial any changes in the deal. I don’t see any reason why this project can’t begin immediately.”

  Everyone stood and pulled out their phones, marking various dates for future meetings. Keeping her eyes on Mr. Dillard and Miranda only, Becca entered a few dates and stepped back as everyone gathered their belongings and exited the room.

  Once she politely said her goodbyes and thank yous, she gave them her back and compiled her notes into a folder. When the room silenced and the door finally clicked shut, she let out a depleted sigh and pressed her palms into the table, her shoulders collapsing and head hanging low. How she ever survived that was a miracle.

  “This was unexpected.”

  Her spine stiffened and twisted so fast she nearly lost her balance. Braydon leaned against the inside of the door, blue eyes trained on her, strong arms crossed over his chest. A master of insipid tameness, she skeptically kept her distance. Such consistent friendliness didn’t exist, certainly not after the way she’d abandoned him with n
o explanation after what they’d done together.

  Breathing was impossible. Her skin turned sticky under her blouse. His impenetrable calmness had to be an act. What guy wouldn’t be pissed? Forcing herself to stand straight, she lifted her chin. “I’m sorry about the other night, but in light of the circumstances it was probably best I left.”

  “You think so?” he asked, voice expressionless, leaving her clueless as to whether or not he agreed.

  “I do.” She swallowed breathlessly.

  Oh God. His shoulders shifted as he pressed away from the door and slowly approached her, his motions purposeful yet languid like a large jungle cat. His arms dropped to his side and he didn’t stop until he was directly in front of her, forcing her head to tilt back so she could keep her eyes on his.

  “I disagree,” he whispered, voice low and gravelly. His larger form crowded her until she dropped into a conference chair, but that didn’t make him back off. His strong hands pressed into the arms of the chair, long fingers coiling around the metal as he leaned close.

  Their mouths were only centimeters apart. His breath was a warm caress over her lips as he spoke.

  “I think this is the universe’s way of telling us our association’s far from over. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next few months, angel. This is a big deal for both of us and neither of us can afford the distraction of sexual tension, which I know you feel too. I propose we call it what it is and work as professionals when our jobs require it, but maintain a…friendly…relationship after hours. You were running the other day, but it looks like I caught you, Becca. I think we should finish fucking out all this chemistry so we can get the job done right.”

  She swallowed and rasped, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, you do. I’ll put one hundred bucks on the table that your panties are soaked right now. By the way, you left your other ones in my couch.”

  Her chest lifted as she drew in rapid breaths. How could he know that? “I’m afraid you’re wrong, but I won’t take your money—”

  Her lie was cut off as his mouth crashed down on hers. Her head pressed against the back of the leather chair as he bullied his way past her lips and stole her kiss.

  The punishing force of his tongue gentled, and she melted as he licked at her lips, pulling them between his and nibbling softly. Every kiss she’d ever experienced paled in comparison to this man’s kisses. His mouth was meant for kissing.

  Braydon pulled away slowly and studied her through hooded eyes. “Now, what were you saying?”

  She needed to give the deal to someone else. She’d just tell Nikki what happened and her friend would surely understand.

  Turning away, she quietly confessed. “I know we’re attracted to each other, but doing business together is only another reason we can’t carry on like this.”

  “Why? No one has to know.”

  “But they will know. Nikki’s my boss, Braydon. And I have other responsibilities I need to consider. Having a torrid affair is so far from the top of my priority list I can’t even begin to make you understand. I think it’d be best if we just forget the past and started fresh, two associates, nothing more.”

  She mentally patted herself on the back. That little speech came out better than she expected. There was no arguing with such logical, well-expressed reasons.

  His eyes narrowed. “No.”

  Or maybe there was. She scoffed. “No? Um, you can’t make me sleep with you again. That’s against the law.”

  “You’ll come to me willingly. I guarantee it. It’s only a matter of time before the sexual tension gets to you. Don’t pretend to be cold with me, angel. I know how hot your blood runs.”

  The tension was already getting to her, but that didn’t mean she should give in. There were other things to consider. Things Braydon knew nothing about and never would. Her personal life was private and she needed to have her wits in order to function without drowning in the difficult moments.

  There was no doubt he could torture her with meaningful looks, innuendos, and other sex strategies she was clueless about. There was no time for that. She’d offered him one night and that’s what he got, even if it was cut short by her Houdini act. Her life couldn’t afford the distraction, nor allot the time and energy needed for what he proposed.

  “I see that mind of yours working, angel. Give in. It’ll feel so good.”

  His arrogance was intended to soften, but it only hardened her resolve. “I can’t. I’m sorry. My life isn’t set up for what you’re suggesting. I don’t have the time or the energy to give you what you want.”

  “I want to please you. Make the time.”

  Yeah right. Her experience with men taught her they had ulterior motives in everything. “I’m sorry, Braydon. The answer’s no. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “Why no?”

  “Because—”

  The door opened and Braydon quickly stood. Becca’s gaze jerked to the entrance. Nikki stood, clearly aware she’d walked in on something unexpected. “I’m sorry, I thought you were finished.” Her brow shot up. “GQ?”

  “Nikki, could you give us a minute, please?” Becca spoke quickly and Nikki smirked mischievously.

  “Sure. Take all the time you need. I’ll move our meeting to the other conference room. Don’t mess up the table, kids.” She turned with a wicked grin and sashayed out of the room.

  “Your boss is the samurai sword lady?”

  “Yeah. I told you that.” Great. She’d never hear the end of this now. It was difficult enough convincing Braydon they couldn’t continue their affair. Convincing Nikki would be plain impossible.

  He paced to the other end of the table. “Let me take you out for dinner tonight.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t. I have plans.” It was true and the easiest excuse.

  His expression hardened. “With another man?”

  Two actually. “My ex-husband’s coming by.”

  “Do you see him often?”

  “A few times a week. It’s complicated and inevitable.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. He was trespassing on some very personal territory. Explaining herself would only involve him more in her personal life, where he wasn’t welcome. “You don’t have to worry about the whys of it, Braydon. You just need to understand that the other night can never be repeated. And it won’t.”

  Objection flashed in his eyes, determination to prove her wrong evident on his strong features, but thankfully he didn’t argue. He gathered his belongings and simply said, “Tomorrow I’ll be here with the negotiated terms of agreement. We’ll discuss more of this then.”

  When he left she dropped her head back and groaned. There’d be no surviving another face off with Braydon McCullough. While she had very valid reasons not to let him into her life, her body wanted him there in a way she’d never experienced before.

  Bracing herself for the oncoming hours of the day, she gathered her items, and returned to the sanctuary of her office.

  * * * *

  Becca changed from work clothing into cotton pants and a T-shirt. The rattle of the garage door echoed at quarter to six as Kevin arrived. Steeling herself for the unpredictable hours to come, she noted his premature return.

  A sharp shrill filtered through the walls before she made it to the garage. Her mind prepared a list of approaches as her feet swiftly carried her across the kitchen floor.

  The sound of Hunter’s high-pitched squeals doubled in volume, piercing her ears, as she opened the door. Becca drew in a deep breath and called loudly over the ruckus. “Welcome home, Hunter. I missed you.”

  Her son ignored her welcome and paced to Kevin’s car, repeatedly opening and slamming the door. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  Becca tensed. Kevin’s ill-concealed impatience spoke of his utter hopelessness. Leaving the shade of the garage, she approached the driveway. “Hit the
locks,” she muttered to her ex as she passed him.

  When she reached Kevin’s car, she plainly said, “Oh no. We don’t slam doors. That’s how we hurt ourselves. Why don’t you come inside and have some juice, bud? You can tell me all about your exciting weekend with Daddy.”

  With quick reflexes, she caught her eight year old’s wrists as he pivoted and shoved her. Rotating his back to her belly, she struggled to force his arms low. Crossing one arm over his chest, locking down the other flailing arm, she dodged his thrashing attempts to lash out in a show of desperate defiance.

  Controlling his outbursts had become a bit more challenging with his recent growth spurt. He’d always been strong, but since sprouting up another six inches and packing on a goodly amount of weight, it wasn’t as easy as it had once been to detain Hunter when his tantrums struck.

  His head swung wildly from side to side as he carried on. His frustration mounted, segmenting his words into nonsensical sounds. Becca pinned her arm around his chest, holding his limbs down in an attempt to subdue the thrashing.

  Sharp pain exploded in her jaw as his head jerked back and she winced, blinking back the burn of sting-induced tears. “Hunter,” she said sternly. “You hurt Mommy. Take a deep breath.”

  His shoulders heaved as he muttered sounds, waging an internal battle. Becca’s arms remained around him, holding his back tightly to her front and his temper slowly waned. Resting her chin on his soft brown hair, she carefully transferred both his wrists to one hand, and used her other arm to apply pressure to his shoulders. “That’s it. Deep breaths.”

  Her grip remained secure, the impersonal pressure of her hold settling him. It took well over five minutes before she could let him go. When she finally did, she braced for another attitude shift.

  This was difficult for all of them. Kevin’s absence from the house hadn’t disturbed Hunter so much in the beginning, but once they’d started custody visits, many of Hunter’s older habits returned with a vengeance.

  Hunter, like many children on the autism spectrum, needed a dependable routine. Becca talked with his team at school and they helped her create charts that adapted to their new family schedule. On Friday, Hunter had been fine. However, returning home, even after three days with his father, seemed to be too unsettling for her son to handle gracefully.