Made to Love

by Medina, Heidi

  “Anything . . . everything,” I replied. This was a completely honest answer, and something new for me. I didn’t need a woman’s life story in order to share her bed, so I’d never bothered. Besides, asking a woman to reveal herself to you in a discussion about her life, her family. . . .Where she came from. .what made her tick . . . these were all things that gave the impression I truly wanted to know her. . . .Really know her. And this generally had her thinking of things like wedding cakes and babies, something I devoutly steered clear of. But Miss Reagan Andrews defied that logic. I truly did want to know her.

  She set her glass back on the table and picked up her napkin, twisting it over and over. “There isn’t much to tell, really.”

  I knew I needed to proceed with caution, and yet I couldn’t help myself. “I doubt that,” I answered gently. “Where did you grow up? Things like that.”

  “I’ve lived in Texas my whole life, until I moved here.” She said it with such finality, as if that single sentence summed up her entire life, when I knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. It was clear she had no desire to talk about herself, and as much as I wanted to learn more about her, I refused to press the issue. Okay, so Texas was off limits. I moved on.

  “Ah, yes. With Brooke. And how do you know her?” Surely her roommate was safe enough.

  Reagan placed her twisted heap of a napkin beside her plate and visibly relaxed. “I met Brooke through her cousin, who was my college advisor. She needed a roommate and so here I am.”

  “What made you choose New York? That’s a long way from Texas.”

  She laughed. “Yes, it is. I don’t know really. I just needed to get away . . . start over. My mom wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, but she’s come around.” She shifted in her seat, and gave a little sigh. “What about you?” she asked, completely shifting the attention back to me.

  “Me?” I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Born and raised here in the great state of New York. Traveled around a bit in my college years, and lived in Boston for almost two years, running the office there. I moved back right before Christmas.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  And just like that, it was my turn to clam up. People in my circle, women I generally became involved with, knew the Preston family. So there was no need to discuss what had happened two years ago. Not that I would have if they’d asked. But they didn’t because they already knew. Everyone did.

  Except this girl. She didn’t know.

  And I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it.

  But I couldn’t be rude to her.

  I cleared my throat. “Uh, no. I mean, now I am, but. .” I trailed off, cursing my inability to form a complete sentence. I had a brother, and he died. How hard was it really to say that? I tried again. “I had an older brother, Thomas. He passed away about two years ago,” I finished flatly, downing my drink.

  Reagan stared at me, kindness and pity darkening her gaze. “I’m sorry. Were the two of you close?”

  I tugged on my collar. I couldn’t believe I was about to discuss my brother with a woman I was trying to get into bed. This was not how I had imagined our first date, unofficial though it was, would go. I should be charming the pants off her. Literally. Not sharing my feelings about my dead brother as if I was laid out on my therapist’s couch. Christ. “Yes, you could say we were very close.” It was all I could manage.

  Reagan looked as if she would say more, but then seemed to sense, perhaps even understand my hesitation. She reached over to take the wine bottle and poured herself another half glass, breaking the tension. Conversation turned back to work, as we chatted lightly about how she was getting along in her department. Reagan was easy to talk to, and I was surprised to find myself enjoying the simple small talk.

  It wasn’t until her cell phone pinged that I chanced to look at the time and realized how long we’d been sitting there. I signaled for the check. “It’s getting late, and I’ve taken enough of your time this evening.”

  I hadn’t taken nearly as much as I wanted to, but that was beside the point.

  Reagan tossed her phone back in her bag. “Yes . . . well, thank you for tonight, Nathan. It was really nice.”

  I stood and pulled on my suit jacket. “No problem,” I replied, as we made our way to the door. “You deserve it. And I had a great time as well.” I helped her into my Escalade, shamelessly checking out her ass and legs as I did. Under normal circumstances, I’d be well on my way to having those legs wrapped around me, but this was Reagan. And patience, while not my forte, was key.

  Even though it was killing me.

  After securing her address, and mentally tucking the information away for future reference, I pulled into traffic. All too quickly we were standing in front of her apartment building, the awkward ‘should I kiss her or just leave’ pause between us. It had been a long time since I’d done this and I hated to admit I felt a little out of my element. I stared down at her, and was struck again with how beautiful she was. The thing was, I don’t think she was truly aware of it, and this only increased her appeal.

  I wanted to kiss every inch of her body.

  Patience, my ass.

  “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me tonight. I hope this won’t be the last.”

  She glanced up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “You’re welcome. Nathan, I—“

  “Sssshhh,” I whispered, placing a finger on her lips. I knew she wanted to set some boundaries for this, whatever it was, but those could come later. Tonight, it was just me and her. And I was itching to taste her again. I needed to. “Reagan, I want. . . I need to . . . I’m going to kiss you again,” I finished just as our mouths crashed together.

  Her bag fell to the ground as her arms made their way to my shoulders. I pulled her waist closer against me and deepened the kiss. Her lips were soft and pliant beneath mine, her mouth hot. I explored her mouth with my tongue, tasting raspberry flavored gloss and the wine she’d drank earlier. I was out of my head with want for her. When one of her hands tightened at the hair at the nape of my neck, and she softly whimpered, I almost lost all control right there on her doorstep.

  My memories had nothing on the real thing.

  I tore my mouth from hers and we stood there staring at each other as I continued to hold her, breath coming in short gasps.

  “I should get inside,” she said softly. Awareness spread across her face, and I knew her defenses were springing back up.

  I released her, bending to pick up her bag. She took it and turned away from me, scrambling for her keys. She was running, and I couldn’t allow that. I grabbed her waist, pulling her back against me as I stood behind her. She tensed slightly, but then relaxed against me as I continued to do nothing more than hold her until our breathing returned to normal. Neither of us spoke a word, and after a few moments, I lightly kissed the side of her neck and stepped away. Without looking back, she let herself into her building and disappeared inside.

  Reagan

  I slid to the floor against my bedroom door. What was I doing?

  Tonight was supposed to be just a celebratory drink among friends. Yet, even as I repeated this to myself, I knew deep down that it wasn’t true. And I also knew that when I had agreed to go out with him in the first place, but had accepted anyway. I just wanted to enjoy myself, but kissing Nathan again reminded me that I was playing with fire. He was unlike anyone else I had ever been involved with. For starters, he was insanely gorgeous. Not that there weren’t hot guys in Texas, because there were, but not Nathan Preston hot. The man was borderline beautiful. . . .Could a man be considered beautiful? I wasn’t sure, but if so, Nathan Preston defined it. Secondly, he was also insanely rich, and I was sure that in his circle, there were rules about dating someone who wasn’t. Not to mention that he was Roger Preston’s son. If there were no such rules in Nathan’s circle, I’m pretty positive his Dad had a rule about dating employees.

  Third, and probably the most insane of all, he invoked feelings in me
that I had never experienced before. Seriously. Every nerve ending in my body came alive when he was near. I had never been so aware of a man in my life. Physical attraction aside, he had this way of looking at me, as if he was really seeing me. He was charming, and I found myself warring between throwing myself naked at his feet, and spilling my guts about my entire life story. I didn’t know how to handle him and because of that, I knew none of my past ways of handling relationships and men were going to work.

  Why . . . why couldn’t be simply be the barista at Gabby’s coffee house? I would at least know how to deal with that. This. . . .thing with Nathan? It was a whole new ballgame. I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

  Remembering my earlier text from Helen, I fired off a quick response letting her know I would call her tomorrow. I picked myself up off the floor, changed and crawled into bed. I had a feeling I was in for a restless night.

  The next morning I woke early, having not slept well the night before. I was contemplating what to do with my hair when Brooke appeared in my doorway, looking the picture of petite perfection.

  “Good morning. I was going to come bearing coffee, but I wasn’t sure what kind you wanted,” she offered.

  “No problem,” I told her, finally deciding upon a low chignon, and began twisting my long hair.

  “So,” she began, walking in and plopping on my bed. “I hear you totally rocked your presentation yesterday. Royce Johnson was singing your praises all night last night.”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise as I turned to her, a pair of shoes in each hand. “Really? And how do you know this?”

  Brooke pointed to the black, open-toed heels in my left hand and I slipped them on. “Because I had a dinner meeting with Mr. Preston, and Royce was there, too.”

  We headed to the kitchen, where I brewed myself some coffee. “Good,” I replied, relief flooding my voice. “Nathan said they were happy, but it helps to hear it again.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Nathan?” she questioned with a smirk.

  I quickly changed the subject. “How long will you be gone?”

  Brooke laughed. “Probably around two weeks. Mr. Preston has a full itinerary planned while we are there, so sadly I won’t be doing much sight-seeing, though,” she answered glumly.

  “Yeah, but Tokyo . . . come on, it should still be fun, right?”

  “Of course!” She brightened, and hopped up on the counter, facing me. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone? Being a newbie around here and all,” she quipped.

  I smiled. “Yes, I’ll be fine. I will be kept plenty busy myself working on this Johnson & Johnson account.” I packed up my bag, and then paused. I’d never had a friend to share confidences, and bemoan the shortcomings of the opposite sex with a BFF. So I wasn’t entirely sure how to approach the topic without invoking a long heart to heart, but I needed information, and I knew Brooke would be a fountain of it.

  “So, did you know Nathan had a brother?”

  Brooke looked surprised. “He told you about Thomas, then? Interesting.”

  “No, not really. We were just talking and I asked him if he had any siblings. He just said that he did, but that he had died. That’s all.”

  Brooke climbed off the counter and rinsed out her cup. I had a feeling she was stalling, but didn’t know why. After a few moments, she turned to me.

  “Thomas was a few years older than Nathan. He ran the Boston office until he died, at which point Nathan took over. Thomas’s death devastated everyone. It was really hard, but Nathan stepped up.”

  I leaned against the counter, suddenly not concerned with rushing to work. “He wasn’t involved in Elite before then?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her voice dropped, as if she was concerned about being overheard, even though we were the only two here. “From what I have heard, Nathan was kinda like what you would call the black sheep of the family. He traveled a lot out of college and basically slept his way across the Atlantic.”

  Some unnamed emotion must have crossed my face because Brooke hastened to explain. “But that was a long time ago, and only what I know from idle water cooler gossip, of course. I do know that since Thomas passed, Nathan has increased the clientele in Boston and has done really well with it. Even though he is now based out of the Manhattan office, he still goes to Boston at least every other week.”

  I couldn’t help but ask. “How did Thomas die?”

  “Car accident. He was heading home from an Elite dinner party and a truck came out of nowhere. Turned out the driver of the truck was totally wasted. Nice, huh? “She looked away, and her voice softened. “It will be two years next week since he died.”

  My eyes widened. Next week? She would be in Japan with Roger Preston next week. What kind of man wasn’t around for what I was sure was one of the hardest days of the year for his wife and remaining son? That seemed like a complete shitty thing to do, to put business before his family. My growing dislike for Roger Preston swelled at this bit of information, but I figured trashing Brooke’s boss to her face was probably unwise.

  And Thomas, Katherine Preston’s son, had been killed at the hands of a drunk driver? Oh, the irony!

  “Anyway,” Brooke continued, “if Nathan told you about Thomas, things are further along than I thought. He doesn’t talk about Thomas. Ever.”

  I shrugged. “I asked and I’m sure it was nothing more than him not wanting to be rude.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and opened the door, putting an end to Q&A time.

  “Okay. We’ll go with that,” Brooke drawled, as she joined me.

  My cheeks flushed as we headed downstairs to hail a cab.

  We had to go with that because I was slightly afraid of the alternative.

  Chapter Ten

  Nathan

  I jabbed the elevator button for my floor and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. I was in a pissy mood and I couldn’t explain why. I had not slept well the night before, but surprisingly it wasn’t Reagan who had consumed my dreams, but my brother, Thomas. I hadn’t dreamt of him in quite some time, and wasn’t pleased to have him gallivanting through my sub-conscious again, reminding me of everything I had loved and lost.

  Thomas and I had never had the love-hate relationship so many siblings experience. Even though he had been two years older than me, it had been us against the world from pretty much the time I could walk. Whether he was teaching me to ride a bike, or playing my wing-man in high school, Thomas had always, always had my back. Even when I’d went a little off the deep end in college, traveling abroad—sometimes with Jake, often times alone--and wouldn’t be seen or heard from for months, it was Thomas who had stood in the gap between me and our father, assuring him that I was just sowing my wild oats, and that I wasn’t really a complete fuck-up. I’ve no doubt that had it not been for him, I’d have been written out of the Roger Preston will the minute I’d refused to fly home for Christmas the first year after I’d graduated. Mom was having one of her big shin-digs, and I was expected to be there. But I had just landed in Spain with a gorgeous senorita I had met on the plane, and was not in the mood to appease my father’s demands.

  It probably hadn’t been the first time Thomas had had to intervene on my behalf, unbeknownst to me, nor was it probably the last.

  Thomas was my big brother, and I had wanted to be like him in every way. I was faced with the reality every day of how miserably I had failed.

  Some shoes were just too large to fill.

  So there had been my restless night, coupled with the fact that I had been basically celibate for the last ten days, which I think was the longest I had been without female companionship since high school. I figured the reason for my bad mood laid somewhere between the two.

  I headed to my office, willing myself to lighten up. Things with Reagan were escalating; the attraction between us becoming difficult to ignore. Last night had cemented in my mind that she was just as consumed with it as I was, and I was itching to see her and make plans for another ‘drink’.


  You know, to see if I could help with the celibacy thing.

  I was formulating an IM to her requesting that very thing when my father breezed into my office and planted himself in the chair across from my desk.

  Apparently this visit was going to be a long one. Shit.

  “Nathanial, I am leaving Friday morning for Tokyo. Here is my contact information and itinerary.” He slid a sheet of paper over to me.

  I picked it up and tossed it on a pile of other paperwork on my desk, not bothering to look at it. Why I continuously chose to be an instigator with my father, I didn’t know. Probably out of habit. “Okay,” I replied.

  “I will be gone approximately two weeks, maybe longer, depending on the progress made once I arrive.” He paused, and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “I want you to look in on your mother.”

  “I’m on Mommy duty until you get back. Got it,” I shot back. His visit was doing nothing to improve my mood. I was already pissed off and had a feeling things could turn ugly real quick if I didn’t end this immediately.

  But he wasn’t finished. “I’m talking about more than your obligatory phone call,” he spat, sarcastically. “It’s . . . next week . . . I mean, the—“

  “Dad, spit it out. What are you trying to tell me?” I knew where this was headed, but was irritated the man was fumbling around with his words when I could be having an actual conversation with Reagan.

  “Thomas. Next Thursday will be . . .” he trailed off, still unable to formulate the words.

  “Will be what?” I questioned irrationally. “The anniversary of his death? Yeah, I’m aware of that. Just like I am also aware that while you’ll be sightseeing in Japan on a whim, I will be left dealing with your wife. You know the one you promised to love, honor and be faithful to all those years ago?”

  My father leaned forward, his face turning red. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. I have business to take care of, and can’t stay here to hold your mother’s hand. It’s been two years!” He barked.