Made to Love

by Medina, Heidi

  That hadn’t taken long. She was trying her best to appear nonchalant, but the fact I had personally asked her to invite Brooke was eating at her. She assumed my inquiry was aimed at learning how quickly Brooke would be here. As if I couldn’t wait to see her.

  If only she knew.

  I played ignorant. “Don’t go back to playing matchmaker,” I laughed.

  “Well, why else would you have suggested—“

  “Mom, we’ve been over this. I’m no more interested in Brooke Wade than she is me. I was just trying to . . . you know . . . be nice.” It sounded shady, even to my ears, but it was the best I could come up with without giving mom something else to pounce on.

  “Nathanial, I only want to see you happy. Ever since Thomas . . .,” her voice trailed off, and I watched her swallow several times, visibly working to control her emotions. It somehow always came back to this, and I knew she’d be hitting the bottle sooner rather than later. I hated it.

  I felt hot, and tugged at the collar of my polo. I needed to get out of here. “Whatever, Mom. I’ll be outside.” I headed through the patio, but not before noticing my mother pull out a wine glass. As much as I cursed her for her weakness, I felt sorry for her, too. It hadn’t always been this way.

  I sighed, and stalked down toward the pool. My father was conversing with one of the groundskeepers, and caught my eye as I passed. I stared at him for a moment, silently willing him to man up and head inside before things got out of hand. He briefly closed his eyes, but then turned his attention back to his conversation. I shook my head in disgust, as I continued on.

  He knew full well what mom was doing right now, but was making no attempts to stop her.

  He never did. And part of me hated him for it.

  Chapter six

  Reagan

  I remember waking up the morning after Charlie had left, and feeling a desolate resignation to my current situation. I was just a few weeks shy of eleven years old, and since I’d figured out how mom earned her money, and how she spent it, things hadn’t been the same. The men came more frequently, and were increasingly more demanding. Alex, Jacob and I would hide in the boys’ bedroom closet, while Charlie stationed himself outside the door, until whoever was with our mother finally left and the house grew quiet. Jacob was three years older than me, but at fourteen, he didn’t have Charlie’s brawny strength should anyone actually attempt to enter our hiding place. And Alex, well, he was just a baby at eight. No protection at all.

  We had always had those times when Charlie had taken us out to play, or ushered us into one bedroom for a while, where’d we play “I Spy” or some other silly game. I knew mom had visitors during those times, but hadn’t yet learned what that meant. And I enjoyed the times spent with my brothers. But now? Now I knew. And with my body starting to develop, the almost constant stream of men, and with Charlie becoming more agitated by the day, things were slipping out of control.

  So I guess I wasn’t surprised that morning when I woke up to find Jacob sitting on the edge of my bed, with the news that our brother, Charlie, at age sixteen, was missing. Looking back, it’s a wonder I didn’t fall apart. Charlie was the one who had promised to keep me and my brothers safe. And how he was gone.

  But I didn’t fall apart. I simply laid there in silence, holding Jacob’s hand, as I felt myself grow numb. Mom was wailing in her room, but whether that was from the loss of her oldest son, or because she was coming down from a high, it was hard to tell.

  Who would protect us now?

  I fidgeted with the hem of the turquoise sundress Brooke had let me borrow, and insisted I wear. I was more than slightly nervous to be staying the weekend at Roger Preston’s house. I mean, seriously. What would he think to see me here, knowing the draft he had demanded of me? The last thing I wanted was for him to think I didn’t take my job seriously. Thankfully I had been able to make some good headway last night, but I still had some work to do when I returned tomorrow night. I didn’t want him thinking I had just thrown something together. My unease multiplied as we turned into a gated driveway. Perhaps I should have stayed home.

  “That must be the house,” Brooke announced, as the limo driver pulled around the circular drive and stopped in front of the biggest house I had ever seen. Tasteful landscaping and perfectly manicured lawns surrounded it on both sides, and the house itself, made of blonde brick, had a four car garage and floor to ceiling windows all across the front. And was that a guest house there off to the side? It wasn’t hard to imagine celebrities living here, and I smiled as I figured Roger Preston probably considered himself as such.

  I followed her out of car, taking a deep breath and pulling my lightweight cardigan tighter around me. There were other cars dropping off guests, and as we waited for the driver to unload our luggage, I felt horribly out of place. The fanciest homes in Austin could not have prepared me for this kind of luxury, had I ever had cause to visit them, which of course I hadn’t. We wheeled our luggage inside, where it was immediately taken from us and we were ushered to our rooms. The bedroom I had been given was done in stark black and white, with a splash of teal thrown in to soften it up. One wall was entirely papered in black and white damask print, and the four poster bed sported a solid black down comforter. My mind reeled at the cost it must have taken to furnish this room alone.

  I placed my bags on the bed, and turned when Brooke knocked, then entered. “Ready to go outside? I’m hearing that’s where the action is and I smell food. I’m officially starving.”

  We headed downstairs and though neither of us really knew exactly where we were going, it wasn’t hard to follow the sounds of laughter and music coming from outside. We exited the back of the house into an outdoor patio area, complete with stone tile flooring, arched entryways on three sides, and a built in fire pit and barbeque. There were chairs and couches placed throughout, and I saw a live band had been set up on a mini stage off to our right. And not some backyard garage band that we had back home either. You know the kind, where beating a wooden spoon on a tin cup is considered talent. No, this band wore bowties and suit jackets, and played real instruments that did not involve kitchen utensils of any kind. There were several guests seated throughout the patio area, and at white covered tables on the lawn, while yet others were already enjoying themselves in the pool.

  I was still soaking it all in when Brooke tugged on my arm. “I see a bar. Champagne?”

  We made our way over to the open bar, where Brooke handed me a champagne flute and held hers up in a toast. “To your first big girl party,” she giggled as she touched her glass to mine.

  I rolled my eyes at her and took a small sip. It was at that moment that my eyes connected with a face I hadn’t expected to see this weekend. My heart sped up and I felt my face grow hot. What was Nathan doing here? I hadn’t thought this was a work party, and outside of Brooke, there didn’t appear to be any other Elite employees I recognized. He didn’t break eye contact with me as he headed straight for us.

  Breathe, Reagan.

  “Ladies,” He greeted us with a warm smile.

  “Nathan,” Brooke and I both replied.

  I looked at her as she looked at me.

  “Wait, you know each other?” she asked me.

  “Yes, we met last week.” I hadn’t yet told Brooke about the hottie in the elevator, quite honestly for no other reason than I wasn’t sure how to tell her without sounding completely ridiculous. I mean, who goes borderline insane over a guy you’ve seen twice and know nothing about? I was slightly embarrassed at my uncontrollable attraction to him and therefore couldn’t bring myself to spill. “Do you know him?”

  Of course she probably would. She’d worked there much longer than I. Stupid question.

  Brooke smirked in his direction. “Yes, I know him,” she admitted. There was an awkward pause, as it seemed she waited for him to speak. “Well?” she drawled. “You gonna tell her?”

  Tell me what?

  Nathan smiled gently at me. “Reagan
, please forgive me and allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m Nathan Preston.” He held out his hand, but I didn’t take it. I just stared at him.

  Nathan Preston? Related to Roger? As in Roger-owner-of-Elite-billionaire-boss-who-was-going-to-kill-me-if-he-found-me-here Preston?

  No way. No freakin’ way.

  “Preston. I’m assuming you are Roger Preston’s son?” I guessed.

  “Guilty,” he replied. His eyes continued to stare into mine, willing me to . . . what, I had no idea.

  This man who had flooded my thoughts for the last week, and had the ability to turn me into a stammering fool whenever he came near me, was Roger Preston’s son.

  I quickly masked my surprise and growing disappointment, and took his hand, which he still held out. “Well, Nathan Preston. It’s nice to meet you. Formally.”

  It was obvious nothing could ever happen between us. He was the boss’s son. I had no desire to become fodder for the gossip mill, letting them think I was sleeping my way to the top.

  I wanted to cry, but couldn’t explain why.

  He gave my hand a brief shake. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m glad you and Brooke could come out this weekend.” He turned to Brooke, who had been standing silently with a wide, silly grin on her face as she had watched the two of us. “Brooke, how are you? It’s been a while. I trust my father is treating you well?”

  “Oh, you know Mr. Preston. Always a force to be reckoned with. But I can handle him.” Brooke waved her hand in the air and took another drink of champagne.

  “It must be true. Before you came along, my father couldn’t keep a personal assistant to save his life,” Nathan joked.

  “Nathaniel, stop keeping our guests with your nonsense.” Roger Preston appeared from behind me and stood next to his son, looking angry, although I couldn’t fathom why. Perhaps that was just how he always looked. He was dressed in black golfing shorts and a blue and white polo. Seeing the two of them side by side, it was easy to see the family resemblance.

  “Miss Wade,” Roger Preston nodded at Brooke with a rather forced smile, then directed his attention to me. “Miss Andrews, what a surprise,” he extended his hand to me and I shook it.

  “Nice to meet you again, Mr. Preston.” Crap. Did I mention anything about work so he didn’t think I was a total slacker? Or just leave it be? I was saved further comment as Nathan spoke up.

  “Dad, I thought you would be on your second round of golf by now,” Nathan said as he patted his father on the back.

  Mr. Preston turned to Nathan with a mild trace of annoyance, and gave a short smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, well I came to rescue these young ladies, and take you to the range. Bart has drank entirely too much to see straight so you will be filling in.” Roger stated.

  Now it was Nathan’s turn to look annoyed, but he too smiled and nodded. “Of course. Ladies, forgive the rude interruption but duty calls. I’ll be seeing you later.” This was said directly to me, and I looked away and took a sip from my glass, praying I didn’t choke and spew champagne all over the CEO. Nathan and his father walked away and Brooke nudged my elbow. “How is it you meet Nathan Preston last week and this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

  I led the way to an empty table and sat down. “Brooke, I didn’t know he was a Preston. He just said his name was Nathan.” I shook my head, embarrassed.

  Brooke leaned in from across the table. “Details come on.” She motioned with her hand for me to explain.

  I briefly relayed my run-ins with Nathan, both of them. Of course, I left out the entire throw me on the floor and take me now parts. “So, see? We’ve only spoken twice. It’s not like the subject of who his father is has come up.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Daddy’s boy has got it for you. Bad.” Brooke stared off toward the neighboring golf course where somewhere, Nathan and his father were playing.

  “No, he does not. We just met. Besides, he’s Roger Preston’s son,” I argued.

  “What difference does that make?” Brooke scoffed as she drained the rest of her glass.

  “A lot. I just moved here, this is a new job, and I don’t want to get rumors started. I need to succeed at this job on my own,” I explained.

  “Okay, I get that. And yes, if this goes anywhere, you’ll need to be discreet for obvious reasons. But let me give you a little bit of advice. Life is too short, and you only live it once. And if Mr. Nathan Preston comes sniffing around your door, as a free, single woman you are entitled to let him in. And to enjoy it!” Brooke winked at me.

  “Yes, but—“

  “Brooke, I thought that was you.” A voice drawled from behind us, and soon a tall woman came into view. Brooke stood, smoothing down her dress as the women embraced her with a hug quick hug. “Mrs. Preston, how are you?” Brooke asked.

  Crap. This must be Nathan’s mom. I set down my glass and wiped my hands on my thigh.

  “Just lovely dear. I’m so glad you could come on such short notice. And who is your friend?” Mrs. Preston turned to me and I stood and held out my hand.

  Was it just me or was she slurring her words?

  “Reagan Andrews. Brooke and I are roommates. Thank you for inviting us.”

  “Please, call me Katherine,” she replied. Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she’d been crying.

  We stood there for a moment in awkward silence, until Katherine gave a short laugh. “Well. It was nice to meet you and Brooke, always a pleasure.”

  She laughed again--over what, I couldn’t tell--then whirled around and headed to the bar, leaving a suspicious scent of alcohol in her wake. Brooke and I stared after her.

  That was weird.

  “She seems nice,” I murmured. The fact that she also appeared to be rather drunk at barely past lunchtime was the gigantic elephant in the room, or backyard, as it were, but I wasn’t going to be the first to comment on it.

  “She is. She and Mr. Preston have been good to me over the last couple years.” Brooke’s voice trailed off, as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  Okay, so we were going to ignore the elephant.

  “So, have you known Nathan long, then?” I hoped to God I sounded at least semi-uninterested.

  Brooke flashed me a knowing grin, letting me know I had failed. “From what I hear, Nathan has always been a bit of a wild card. He just became involved in the family business a few years back, after—“Brooke paused, and cleared her throat. “Well, he lived in Boston until about six months ago, which is when I really got to actually know him. He ran the Boston office, but Rog—Mr. Preston needed him here.”

  She tugged my arm toward a table heavily laden with hors d’oeuvres. “Come on. Let’s eat. I swear these crab cakes have been calling my name since I arrived!”

  Nathan

  I took my last shot, thankful that the game had come to a close.

  The sun had begun to set, and I was feeling agitated. The day was practically gone, and I was no further along in my plans due to my father’s demand that I be the fourth man on his team. I hated golf, but it was something I was very good at. And Dad liked to win. The fact that he was the host of this party, and therefore should graciously allow someone else a victory, would never occur to him.

  So it was that I found myself hastily throwing my clubs in the back of the golf cart and speeding my way back to the house. I had had definite plans for this weekend, and spending half of it with my father, making him look good, hadn’t been part of them. I needed to get inside for a quick shower and then find Miss Andrews. Pronto.

  I parked the cart at the front of the house, knowing there was less chance of being detained by some overeager party guest these things were always rife with. I headed inside and up the stairs, rounding the corner to one of the main bathrooms, when I felt a body crash into mine.

  A female body.

  A soft, female body.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” Reagan breathed, her hands coming up to stop herself, and resting on my chest.


  I stared down at those hands, wondering why they were still there, and praying to God she wouldn’t move them. Even though I was already hot and sticky from being outside in the sun all day, her touch felt scorching and I struggled to breathe.

  This was truly ridiculous. Never had I experienced such an overwhelming wave of desire.

  What was I? A pre-pubescent teen?

  I looked up into her face and found her eyes, big and round, were watching me.

  “It was my fault,” I answered. Why I was whispering, I had no idea. There wasn’t anyone around.

  Reagan, as if finally realizing her hands were still clutching my chest, dropped them and took a small step away.

  Damn.

  We continued to stare at each other for the briefest of moments, before she nervously looked away and tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear. She swallowed, and I watched her throat move, wondering what her skin tasted like. I imagined my tongue following the curve of her throat, before sucking the tender spot just below her ear.

  Double damn.

  The tension was palpable, and I reached out to brush away that lock of hair, that had fallen back across her forehead once again. When she closed her eyes, visibly moved by my touch, I knew it had to be now.

  Without warning, or giving her a chance to protest, I tugged her against me, one arm snaking around her waist to hold her secure, and placing my other hand at the back of her head as I angled her to my mouth.

  Any trace of doubt I may have had about kissing her in my parent’s hallway was dispelled the minute her arms wrapped around my neck and a soft moan escaped her throat as she opened her lips to my exploring tongue.

  It was then I knew I had her.

  Chapter Seven

  Reagan

  I had been kissed before. Some welcomed, others unwanted.