Sunday to Sunday.
I’d have to clear my schedule at work.
And find out what cabin she’s in. I’m sure the people in the next room would love to spend a week on my yacht instead.
Okay, then.
“Are you staying here or heading home?” he asked.
A kind of hopeful expression filled her eyes. “Going home.”
“I’ll follow you to make sure you get there safely.” He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and came to her feet close enough that with a dip of his head he could have claimed her lips with his. Their eyes met and held. He wanted her, but strangely he didn’t want to rush it. He wanted to savor every moment with her before he tasted every inch of her. Being with her felt that good.
“Thank you.” Those two softly spoken, heartfelt words warmed him in a way that he welcomed even as they scared him a little, too.
Whatever they had, however this thing between them worked out, he knew he would never be the same. And that is not a bad thing.
Chapter Eleven
Alisha was up early reading countless blogs and passenger reviews to help her decide what to take with her. She didn’t want to pack so much that she couldn’t handle the luggage herself, but she couldn’t turn off the side of her that needed to be prepared. Armed with a long list, Alisha showered and rushed out the door.
She was halfway down the steps when she registered having passed something on her porch. She turned and her jaw dropped open. A three-piece set of luggage patterned with delicate flowers stood proudly, each wrapped in white ribbon and sporting a huge bow. She read the card she found propped against them.
I took a chance you didn’t already have luggage. Consider these your first flowers from me.
—Brett
Blinking back tears, Alisha smiled. She texted a polite: Thank you. She knew if she called, she’d probably cry. In the years of watching her father and mother interact, she had rarely seen selfless kindness. If ever. But here was Brett, consistently showing that he cared in ways that were truly touching.
If you don’t like them, I have the receipt, he texted back.
They’re perfect.
I’m glad. What are your plans today?
Busy. Packing. Shopping. More packing.
Dinner?
She wanted to say yes, but she didn’t want to open the door to more. There couldn’t be more. I can’t. At least that’s honest.
Tomorrow?
Is this a test? Because remembering why to say no to him is hard when all I want to do is say yes. Sorry, no.
Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind waiting. It’ll make being with you that much sweeter.
Holy crap. That’s hot. Alisha tucked her phone into her jeans pocket, leaned against the railing of her porch, and fanned her face.
She stashed the luggage just inside her front door and headed back out with the list of what she needed, one item now crossed off. Thank God she had the list. She found it difficult to think of much beyond Brett as she drove. Sleeping with Brett would only make things worse.
Rachelle had mentioned him over the years, but not usually in a favorable way. She’d always described him as judgmental, arrogant, and impossible to talk to without arguing. Rachelle had led Alisha to think he was the type who cared only about money and himself.
She couldn’t reconcile Rachelle’s version of Brett with her own experience of him. The Brett she knew went out of his way to take care of people. He was thoughtful. Funny. Sexy as hell.
But off-limits.
There was no way she’d risk making things worse between Rachelle and her. Rachelle hadn’t called her back to confirm that it had been a misunderstanding, so it must be true. Spencer wasn’t Dereck’s son. And I brought that fact to light.
She pulled into the parking lot of the local pharmacy, grabbed her purse, and headed in while giving herself a mental shake.
Rachelle said she needed time. I’ll give her time.
Focus on the cruise.
Alisha walked up and down the aisles, filling her basket with travel-sized items. She accidentally walked down the contraceptive aisle, paused in front of the condom section, and blushed as she remembered how she’d told Brett she couldn’t sleep with him. I don’t even know what he sees in me. So far I’ve yelled at him, told his grandmother off, cried all over him while I was sick, and practically destroyed his family. I’m a hot mess.
The memory of how his lips had felt as they grazed across her knuckles vividly came back to her. She warmed from head to toe as she imagined how good his mouth would feel on hers, or anywhere else it roamed.
Although she’d been dating a man until a short time ago, she hadn’t slept with him. He’d been nice enough, and attractive, but his kisses hadn’t left her craving more. That was never a good sign.
She wasn’t a virgin. Like many of her friends, she’d lost her virginity to a high school boyfriend who hadn’t wanted much more than sex. She slept with a college boyfriend she’d imagined herself in love with until she caught him screwing one of her friends in the bathroom at a party she’d said she couldn’t attend because she had to study. Studying always took priority over men after that. There had been two more men since college, but neither had made her feel all tingly and alive the way Brett did.
Unlike the men she’d dated, Brett wouldn’t be tentative in bed. No, he was definitely a man who would know what he wanted and how to please a woman. She had nothing to base that on but a gut feeling. And the way he looks at me. Like he wants to devour me.
I want to be taken like that.
Alisha licked her bottom lip as she pictured him picking her up and carrying her to his bed. She wasn’t the type who gave control to someone else, but imagining being with a powerful man like Brett was exciting. She didn’t think it would be scary because she couldn’t imagine him ever hurting her.
She ran her hand over the front of a box of extra-large condoms. Was Brett as big in reality as he was in the naughty dreams he’d inspired the night before? Images of the two of them naked and rolling around passionately on her bed circled in her mind. The fantasy was so good she could almost taste him.
From the corner of her eye she caught a movement and saw a man in his early twenties watching her. She realized she’d been caressing the front of the condom box and hastily dropped her hand. Feeling like she should say something, she smiled sheepishly at him. “It’s a good brand.”
He nodded and blushed.
She turned away, but as she left the aisle, she saw him toss two boxes of that brand into his cart. She waited until she was around the corner before she laughed into her hand. There is always a bright side. At least I know I could do condom commercials.
She hurried to the cashier and paid for her items.
Now I need new underwear, a bathing suit, and a few dresses. Hopefully, I can buy those without making a spectacle of myself.
Back in her car, she started the engine and said, “Brett Westerly, get out of my head. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Not that I’m totally sure what that is anymore. I know one thing: I shouldn’t leave without talking to Rachelle. She dialed the number.
“Hello?” Rachelle said as she answered.
“It’s me.”
“I know.”
“How are you? How is everyone else?”
“You were right.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My mother is still upset. Nicolette is in shock. Spencer isn’t talking to anyone. All in all, it’s pretty bad.”
“Do you need—”
“Are you seeing Brett?”
Wham. The question hit Alisha like a punch. “No. We talk sometimes. That’s it.”
“Is that the truth?”
Since fantasies don’t count, and I’ve told him I wouldn’t go out with him, yes. “Why would I lie to you? When have I ever lied to you?”
Rachelle sighed. “Never. It’s just that he said some things that made it sound like . . . Alisha, my family is fall
ing apart over here. I feel like one more tap and we’ll shatter. Please, stay away from Brett. Spencer is already hurting enough.”
Her request was a painful slap that sent Alisha momentarily off-balance. Apart from agreeing to go along with a scam to help Spencer receive his inheritance early, why am I the pariah here? I was helping him. How did I end up as the outsider? Alisha started to feel angry. And it showed as she said, “So stay away from you, your mother, your sister, the brother you’re close to, and the brother you never talk to. In general, just stay away.”
“Alisha, that’s not what I’m saying—”
“No, I get it.” She gripped the steering wheel. “You know what? It’s fine. I’m going away for a week. If you want to talk when I get back, call me.” Alisha hung up the phone and threw it on the seat next to her.
Two more days until the cruise.
Just two more days.
Feels like forever.
Organizing his office and global teams so all would run smoothly while he stepped away for a week kept him busy enough that his day passed quickly. When he finally looked up from his computer, after answering the last of his e-mails, the sun had already set.
He stood, stretched, and walked to the window of his office. The Boston skyline at night was impressive, but he was lost in thought.
He’d never needed to pursue a woman, so it was difficult to judge how he was doing. Alisha had liked his gift enough to thank him for it. He’d expected her to agree to have dinner with him. His plan was to take her on a couple of dates, the last of which ended with her spending the night at his place, and then surprise her with the fact that he was going away with her. Her refusal made his booking the suite adjoining hers a little less romantic and a little more stalkerish.
She’s interested. I can’t be wrong about that. What did she say? Sleeping with me was the only way she could make things worse?
Because she feels guilty about something that wasn’t her fault. His family was imploding, but it wasn’t by her hand. There has to be a way to make her see that.
To make everyone see that.
So far, he wasn’t impressed with how his family was handling the fallout from the other day. His father was in stoic denial that anything significant had happened. His grandmother saw the event only in terms of how it affected her. Eric’s return was delayed by an unavoidable filming issue. His mother and younger siblings had circled their wagons as if they’d somehow been threatened. And Spencer was doing his best to follow in their father’s footsteps, by hiding at work.
Really, how could sleeping with me make anything worse? It’s already a shitfest.
“I told you he’d be here,” Victor Andrade’s voice boomed through the doorway even before he entered it.
Brett turned from the window and groaned. Victor and his brother, Alessandro, were his father’s age and friends of the family, but they’d chosen the wrong time to visit. “Gentlemen.”
Alessandro crossed the office and hugged Brett. “Is that any way to greet family?”
Brett had never been, and would never be, someone who hugged other men, but these two old coots had broken him down over the last thirty-two years. There was no family tree that linked the Westerlys to the Andrades, but that fact was lost on them. Their mother had been a good friend of his grandmother’s and that was enough by their definition. Victor was next, with a loud backslapping embrace that always left Brett wondering if muggers used the same technique to disorient their victims.
When Victor stepped back, he was beaming with pride. “I still picture you hiding behind the couch in diapers, but you look good in your father’s office.”
Brett shook his head at the image.
“You’re embarrassing him, Victor,” Alessandro said, as if Brett needed his support. “He’s a man now.”
“What can I do for you two?” Brett asked. The Andrades were like a summer storm. There was no avoiding them; all one could do was buckle down and hope they didn’t last long.
Victor made himself at home in one of the chairs in front of Brett’s desk as Alessandro followed suit in the other. “We’re here to see how you’re doing,” Victor said.
“Just checking in,” Alessandro added.
“My grandmother called you,” Brett said dryly.
Alessandro shrugged. “She worries.”
Brett sat on the front edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “She’d have less to worry about if you kept more of your advice to yourself.”
The brothers exchanged a pained look. Alessandro waved an expressive hand in the air. “Love is always the answer.”
Victor slapped a hand on his thigh. “Unless it involves your brother’s fiancée. What is this nonsense we’re hearing about you squabbling over the same woman?”
Brett looked skyward for assistance but received none. When he looked down, they were still there. “I’m not discussing this with you.”
“He doesn’t look guilty,” Victor said.
Alessandro rubbed his chin as he studied Brett. “So Delinda was right, and it wasn’t a real engagement?”
Brett said nothing.
Victor went back to waving his hands as he spoke. “You have to admire Spencer for finding a fiancée that fast, even if it wasn’t for real.”
“Delinda says she’s a spitfire. My Elise is never afraid to say what she wants. I love that in a woman.” Alessandro’s expression turned dreamy.
Brett closed his eyes and counted to ten. There were few people he tapped into his patience reserve for, but Victor and Alessandro had always been good to his family, good to him. Loyalty like that gave them a special place in his heart. Still, he didn’t want to imagine either of them with their wives. He shuddered. “I hate to cut this visit short, but it’s been a long day and I’m beat.”
Neither man moved to leave.
“So tell us about this Alisha Coventry,” Alessandro said.
Never going to happen. Brett pushed off the desk. If he walked out of the office, they might follow him.
They didn’t.
From the other room he heard Victor make a tsk-tsk sound. “He thinks we’re too old to remember what he’s going through.”
“Or that he knows women better than we do.”
“Who understands women better than men who have been happily married for over thirty years?” Victor chided. “Our résumés speak for themselves. What’s your track record, Brett?”
Brett walked back into his office. The Andrade storm was not yet abating. “Although I appreciate your concern, I don’t need your help.”
Alessandro smiled. “We’ve heard that before.”
Nodding, Victor said, “We sure have. How do you feel about this woman?”
Brett kept his silence, which did nothing to break their stride. Alessandro leaned forward in his seat and spread one hand in the air, then the other as he spoke. “Are you at the pop-the-question or the make-up-after-the-breakup stage?”
“Neither,” Brett answered abruptly.
Victor said, “He doesn’t look excited or nervous enough to be about to propose.”
Alessandro shook his head in confusion. “He’s not sad, so he’s not fighting with her.”
Victor’s eyes rounded, and he slapped his knee. “She turned him down. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Brett sat in the empty chair across from them. Their slow torture techniques should be registered with the government.
Alessandro’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “She did? This is worse than I thought.”
There was an irony to his claim that Brett couldn’t let pass. “Worse than when you thought I was stealing Spencer’s fiancée?”
“We never really believed that,” Victor said. “We’ve known you your whole life. You’re a good boy. That’s why we’re here. We want to see you happy.”
“Who is ever really fucking happy?” Brett countered.
Victor frowned. “I am.” He looked to his brother. “Alessandro, are you?”
&nbs
p; “I have my health, a beautiful wife, grandchildren, and good people who are family through love if not through blood. What do I have to be unhappy about?”
This wasn’t the first time Victor and Alessandro had shared their view of the world with him, but it was the first time Brett didn’t dismiss it as utter bullshit. They weren’t feeding a teenage boy an unrealistic version of life in an attempt to cheer him up. They genuinely were that fucking happy.
“Nothing, apparently.” If they were comparing personal lives, theirs were, in fact, better than his. What did he have to lose? “You’re right. She turned me down.”
Alessandro clapped his hands together. “So? What did you do?”
“I sent her luggage.”
Victor made a face. Alessandro waved him off and encouraged Brett to continue. “Maybe it’s not so bad. Was it full of jewelry? Flowers? Expensive dresses? Did you include an invitation she couldn’t resist?”
“No,” Brett said and began to wonder if he’d missed the mark with his gift. “It had flowers on it, so I told her to consider them the first flowers I gave her.”
Seesawing his hand back and forth, Victor said, “That’s not horrible. But luggage?”
“She’s leaving on a cruise on Sunday.”
“That you bought for her?” Victor continued his interview as Alessandro sat back and listened intently.
“No.”
“That you’re going on together?”
“No. Yes. It’s complicated.”
Alessandro cut in, “I have a feeling you need to start from the beginning for us to be able to help you.”
“I don’t need—”
“You do, Brett. You gave her luggage,” Victor said blandly.
Touché, old man.
Touché.
Brett got up and poured them all a glass of scotch. Then he sat back down and began to tell them about the time Alisha walked into his office.
Chapter Twelve
The next day Alisha was on her way home from leaving the engagement ring, tucked into a handwritten apology, with Spencer’s secretary. She didn’t know if he’d actually not been there or if he simply hadn’t wanted to see her, but either way it was over. She couldn’t go back in time and stop him from hearing the truth about his parentage, but she did let him know how much she regretted the way he’d learned about it. She wished she could have spared him that.