by Nella Tyler
"I'm going to win you back, Brecken, no matter what. No one dumps me. And, I'll tell you something else…if you don't come to your senses, I'm going to tell everyone what I know."
Brecken stared at her a moment and then stood, casting yet another glance around. It was more than apparent to him that office workers leaving the building and the security guards were pretending not to hear her angry words, but it was impossible not to. She was right about one thing. She knew a lot – too much. He shook his head.
"We're not going to have this discussion here, Alyson," he said firmly. "It's neither the time nor the place."
To his surprise, she stood, stepping so close to him that he felt her breath on his face. Then, she placed her hand on her abdomen. Gave him a smile. Leaned toward him. He thought she was going to try and kiss him again, but she didn't. She whispered in his ear.
"I'm pregnant, Brecken."
With that, she turned from him and walked toward the front doors, her heels clacking loudly on the granite floor. It was obvious that he hadn't been the only one to hear her outburst, nor follow her path out of the building. Nothing like this kind of a scene to get the rumor mill going, which was the last thing Brecken either wanted or needed.
Her words sent a cold chill through them. Was it possible? Could she be pregnant or was she, in typical Alyson fashion, just trying to scare him and have something to hold over his head? They had only been separated a couple of months, so it was possible she was telling the truth. The thought of Alyson being a mother gave him the chills. He shuddered slightly as he made his way back to the elevator, his mind spinning.
In a daze, trying to determine whether she was being truthful or not, and horrified by the idea that it could be true; he made his way back to his office. As the elevator doors opened and he stepped out, he saw Heather slowly making her way to his office.
"Heather, are you looking for me?" he asked. She turned around and eyed him for a moment, uncertainty written all over her face. She seemed uncertain, which was a frame of mind he currently understood. He was incredibly flustered.
"I…um… I just…"
"What is it?" he asked as he ventured closer, trying to shove thoughts of Alyson from his mind. "I'm just coming up to lock my office for the day. Is there something we need to talk about?"
She paused, thought about that for a moment, and then shook her head. She muttered something about a newspaper article. He understood immediately. He had seen the article in the Times. "Don't believe everything you read," he said, making his way to his office door. Without going inside, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and locked it. "Please, come with me."
Without a word, Heather followed him back down the hallway to the elevator. He gestured for her to enter first and she did. They rode down to the lobby in silence. Without saying anything, he took her across the street to the diner-style restaurant in the lobby of the office building that housed a number of accountants, lawyers, and investment consultants.
"Have a cup of coffee with me?"
Though she seemed surprised by the invitation, she nodded. "I… I just wasn't sure what to think about the article. It made some pretty startling accusations-"
He guided her to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. As she slid into one seat, he took the bench opposite her. "Like I said, Heather, don't believe everything you read. In this business, you make waves, and I've apparently attracted the attention of a journalist trying to make a name for himself and not in a good way."
She glanced around the restaurant, taking in the core. The table in front of them had coffee cups turned upside down on their saucers, napkin holders, salt and pepper, the usual condiments, as well as several heart decorations on the wall beside them. He noticed it for the first time, as well. Valentine’s decorations. Shit. No wonder Alyson was acting this way. He had suggested they set their wedding date on Valentine's Day. So much for ever enjoying this holiday again, he thought.
A waitress came by their table and asked if she could get them a menu. Brecken shook his head regarding the menus and requested a couple of cups of coffee. The waitress stepped away. He said nothing more as she returned, carrying a coffee pot. She poured them each a cup, glanced at him once more, and then shrugged and walked away.
He watched as Heather reached for the sugar container that held a variety of real sugars and substitute sugars. She took the real sugar. He smiled. "Why aren’t you crazy?"
She glanced up at him in surprise; her hands frozen, only halfway done ripping open the package of sugar. "Excuse me?" she laughed.
"Everyone else is, why not you?"
He knew he had taken her off guard, but she shrugged and laughed again, then gestured around her. "There are all sorts of crazy. Just look around. How else do you explain all the Valentine's Day decorations? If there’s one holiday that seems crazy, it's Valentine's Day."
He nodded and watched as she slowly sipped her coffee.
"So, the article…"
He waved off her question. "When you're rich and powerful, everyone wants to take you down. I found that journalists, or so-called journalists rather, will say anything and do anything just to make you look bad. Everyone wants a piece of you."
Except Heather. Apparently, she just wanted to do her job. Not only was she gorgeous, but she didn't seem to be at all impressed with his status. He rather liked it. He was so tired of people acting funny around him, trying to impress him, get in good with him, patting him on the back, and acting like he was their best friend when he didn't even know them. Everyone wanted to be his friend, but they had ulterior motives. They all did. Even Alyson had.
"Look, Heather, there's no corruption in my company…never has been and never will be." He laughed. "As a matter of fact, I think it's all rather amusing. Ever since the WikiLeaks mess, everyone's so quick to point a finger, to accuse everybody, or at least me, of being engaged in questionable activities. Why? I have no idea." He actually felt a little guilty lying to her. He did have an idea why people, or at least the media and some government officials, got the impression that he was operating outside of the law. Still, they had never found any evidence, nor pressed charges, so as far as he was concerned, he was okay.
"I guess that makes sense," she said, taking another sip of coffee.
He gazed at her as a sudden idea hit him. "Heather, would you like to do something spontaneous, something fun? Something fast?" She stared at him, obviously taken aback. "No pressure, this isn’t an official date or anything, but to tell you the truth, I've been under a lot of pressure lately. It's nice to just… to just be with someone with whom I feel comfortable." He smiled. "You have that effect on people, you know."
She smiled politely. "What effect?"
He shook his head, not quite sure how to reply. "I don't know how to explain it. You just have a calming effect on me. It's like when I'm around you, I feel this sense of… I don't know, of Zen!” He laughed.
She shrugged. "Why not?"
*
Less than an hour later, Brecken strapped Heather into the Formula One racing car passenger seat and gave her a reassuring smile as he got behind the wheel and strapped himself in. "Don't worry, Heather, I do this all the time." He had booked some time on a private drag strip a couple of days ago, something that he did at least once a week. "It helps me unwind and relax."
Her reply was cut off as he floored it. In a matter of seconds, the car sped around the track at over one hundred miles an hour. He didn't look at her, focusing instead on the track in front of him, his hands firmly on the wheel. The loud engine prevented any conversation, anyway, but conversation wasn't what he was looking for when he came here.
Maybe she was getting the same thrill out of the speed as he did. Then again, maybe she was terrified. He would find out soon enough. He loved coming here. The adrenaline of pushing a car to its limits, navigating the curves, and accelerating down the straightaways helped him get rid of the tension than accumulated on a daily basis. If he didn't have so
mething like this, he would probably explode. He wasn't into skydiving or reckless thrill-seeking endeavors, although some could say that taking a car through its paces around a drag strip was a thrill-seeking endeavor. He disagreed. He wasn't reckless. He was fully aware of the need for focus and skill.
After three laps around the track, he pulled into the pit stop and then glanced at Heather. Soon, another car raced around the track past them, engine roaring. She stared straight ahead, her hands tightly grasping the harness that strapped her into her seat. Then, she glanced at him, eyes wide.
"Oh my God, that was amazing!"
He laughed and nodded.
"While I certainly don't find it relaxing, I could see how it might appeal to you."
"Do you really?"
"Well, it's not exactly what I would've thought as a mode of relaxation, but it certainly does get the adrenaline going and the immediacy of it does prevent other distracting thoughts from coming into play, doesn't it?"
"Exactly," he grinned.
He unbuckled his harness and came around to her side of the car and then unbuckled hers, as well. He helped her out, and then gestured toward the low building a short distance away. "There's a bench over there. Let's sit down for a minute, let you get your land legs under you again."
She laughed. "You saw my wobbly knees, didn't you?"
She captivated him. Nothing seemed to faze her, and she had this unique ability to laugh at herself. How utterly refreshing, he thought. They sat down on the bench as he removed his jacket, pulling his phone from the pocket and placing it on top so that it wouldn't fall out or inadvertently get sat on.
"I try to get out here at least once a week to blow off stress," he commented.
Heather said nothing, but merely nodded as she glanced around the track, the spotlights that lit it up every fifty feet or so, the buildings around it, and the darkness that encompassed them. She didn't seem uncomfortable, but he didn't want to prolong the evening to the point that she would. "If you'll excuse me, I just need to hit the restroom, and then I'll be back to take you home."
She nodded. "All right. I'll just sit here while you're gone and try to get my heart rate down."
He laughed as he walked away from the bench, shaking his head. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. There was something about Heather that was irresistible. So down to earth. So…normal. He quickly used the bathroom and then returned to the bench, only to find Heather's demeanor different from when he had left. In fact, she seemed to be flustered and angry. He frowned. He saw the she held a phone.
"What's wrong?"
Without saying anything, she turned the phone in her hand to show him. He realized it was his phone. On the screen was an image of an impressive cleavage. Beneath it was a text message in all caps: Call me back. I'm warning you.
"Heather-"
She handed the phone back to him and he took it. She stood with her arms crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know quite how to put this, Bracken, but I'm just going to say it. I’m not up for grabs. I have no desire to become someone’s plaything. You hired me to do a job and I'm going to do it. Nothing more. Just don't expect any racy pictures from me anytime soon."
He frowned, baffled. "I don't understand, Heather. I haven't done anything to offend you have I?"
"Can you explain that?" she said, gesturing to the phone.
"That's Alyson," he sighed. "My ex-fiancée, remember? My business partner. I already told you she's crazy. She leaves me text messages like that all the time. I typically just delete them."
She seemed to hesitate and then looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-"
"Don't apologize, Heather," he said. "The truth is, I am attracted to you, but I certainly understand if you want to keep our relationship professional. But before you do make that decision, I want to do one thing."
"And, what's that?"
"I want to kiss you."
He leaned closer to her, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and pressed his lips against hers; so soft. At first she froze and stiffened in his arms, but then she relaxed, even began to kiss him back. No tongue, but nevertheless the simple kiss got his blood racing. He felt his dick began to harden and reluctantly ended the kiss. He smiled down at her.
"There, I got that out of the way," he smiled. "Again, I want to tell you that I enjoy your company, but I'm not going to put any pressure on you. You don't have to worry about your job if you decide you want to keep a hands-off policy going between us.”
Heather shifted from one foot to the other. He could tell that she was taken a bit aback. "Come on, let me get you home." He ignored the received text message and then texted his driver, who had pulled up to the front of the private drag strip by the time he guided Heather through the building and out the front door. They walked side by side to his car, and then climbed into the back seat.
He gave the driver Heather’s address, and they sat quietly as the car took a few side streets before taking a ramp onto the freeway, exiting about fifteen minutes later in her neighborhood. They didn’t speak, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Occasionally, he glanced at Heather. She seemed quiet, contemplative. He hoped he hadn't come on too strong. By the time they pulled up to her apartment building, he had decided he wouldn't kiss her again. That might be overdoing it. To his surprise, she glanced at him with what he could only describe as curiosity. Did she want him to kiss her again? He couldn't tell.
"I had a nice time,” she said. “Thank you for taking me there."
Her voice seemed a little stiff, cordial almost. "I had a nice time, too, Heather. You’re good company. I'd love to take you out for a Valentine’s dinner. What do you say? No one as pretty as you should be alone on Valentine's Day."
She appeared to be thinking about it. "Can I give you an answer tomorrow?"
He was rather surprised by that, but he grinned and shrugged. "Of course." He got out of the car and then came around the back and opened the door on her side. He didn't move from the car, but stood there with her for a moment, feeling awkward, which rather surprised him. He felt like he was out on his first date with his first girl. "Well, thanks again for joining me, and I guess I'll see you at the office tomorrow."
Again, she seemed to hesitate, gave him an odd look, and then nodded. "Goodnight, Brecken," she said and turned and walked toward the main doors of her apartment building.
He got back into the car, waited just long enough to make sure that she got inside her building okay, and then told his driver to take him home. His blood boiled. That message had not been from Alyson. Alyson wasn't his only problem. That message could ruin his life. It could put him in jail, for good.
His past kept coming up to haunt him. That message had originated from a very bad man. A very bad man who didn't get intimidated, but one who rather preferred to do the intimidating. He came from Bolivia. Just thinking about him made Brecken uncomfortable, and he was used to dealing with a lot of different people.
Still, there was something about the Bolivian that literally chilled his blood.
Chapter 5
The traffic on Monday morning was horrid. Well, at least more horrid than usual. There was some kind of accident between a delivery truck, a taxi, and an SUV. Traffic was backed up at least four stoplights before Heather would have asked the driver to drop her off on the east side of her building. She decided she might as well just get out and walk. She said as much to the driver and asked how much she owed him. After he told her, she dug in her wallet, gave him a fare and a tip and then got out.
She quickly stepped onto the sidewalk and began to walk, thinking that it was a lovely morning that she didn’t mind. The air was brisk and sharp, but she knew that spring was just around the corner. She was ready. At any rate, she decided that she would enjoy the walk. She might be a couple of minutes late to work, but not much, if at all. She glanced around; admiring the way the early morning sun glinted off the sides of the buildings, her eyes passing over a number of pedes
trians already on the street.
Some looked like they were on their way to work or school, carrying briefcases, satchels, and backpacks, while others looked to be just enjoying time with friends or family, sipping coffee, checking text messages on their phones, and generally enjoying what the morning had to bring.
Heather's gaze passed over a tall man holding a camera aimed in her direction. Wait. Could that possibly be the same man she had seen a couple of days earlier when she had been taking care of errands? She glanced behind her to see what was going on but she saw nothing unusual, just pedestrians like her, minding their own business. Could he actually be taking pictures of her? She saw a Starbucks on the corner and decided that she would pop in, get a cup of coffee, and see if the man was still lurking about when she emerged.
She ducked into the coffee shop and joined the line, trying not to appear anxious as she casually glanced over her shoulder, pretending to look at customers behind her even though she was actually trying to get a peek out the window toward the opposite side of the street where she had seen the man before slipping into the coffee shop. By the time she got to the front counter, she had forgotten why she was there.
"Can I help you?" the frazzled barista asked, gazing impatiently at her.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Heather said, quickly glancing up at the menu. Hell, she was already here; she might as well indulge. "I'll have a tall espresso macchiato," she said.
"Name?"
She stared at him a moment, surprised, and then remembering that they wrote the customer’s name on the cup. "Heather."
She quickly paid for her coffee and then stepped to the side to wait for her coffee, again resisting the urge to peek over her shoulder. Because the place was so busy, she waited about five minutes before she heard her name.
“Heather, Espresso Macchiato!”
She stepped to the counter and grabbed the cup, delaying only long enough to slip the Starbuck’s logo sleeve on her cup so she wouldn’t burn her hands. She didn't want to be late to work, but she also needed to know if she was being followed. She had no idea why someone would want to follow her. Still, in a city this size, it was rather startling to realize that the man she had seen this morning could indeed be the same man that she had seen on Saturday.
