Besotted (Beguiling Bachelors Book 4) Page 8

  The man was a brilliant lawyer, a hard-driving hockey player with a sharp brain and a rock solid body. He wasn’t overly tall but he had a several inches on Regan. He was broad-shouldered and narrow hipped. She loved his stride, the way his long arms and legs swung easily, reminding her more of a dancer than an athlete. He could sit still for long periods of time, giving nothing away, a real asset when he was in negotiations. He never fidgeted, always appearing in control – which he usually was.

  He exuded confidence and was completely disarming when he revealed a true smile, not that self-deprecating smirk he automatically presented, or the slight tilt up of his lips. No, a real smile could bring Regan to her knees. When he tilted his head slightly to the left and let his sensuous lips expose his perfect teeth, his eyes would crinkle and one tooth would just nibble on a corner of his lips, and she was a goner. His dimples, large but not deep, would be on full display and that roguish twinkle would light up his eyes. Then she would remember every moment they shared over the years, every laugh, every touch, every kiss. When he really smiled, Regan could not resist him.

  If their server or the women staring at them from nearby tables, were any indication, it was obvious other women could not resist him either. They only saw his good looks and his confidence, the width of his shoulders beneath his expensive, custom suit. They could sense his allure while they guessed at his wealth, wondered about his personality, but she knew; he had the whole package.

  He was inundated with women handing him their phone numbers. Even today, despite Regan’s presence, a leggy beauty in a short dress stopped to hand him her card. Regan flashed her a dirty look, but what could she do or say when she was involved with Brandon? It was gratifying when Tyler ripped the card in half, tossed it on his plate and let the server carry it away.

  “You will never change your father’s mind about women, but I know he is fully aware of your ability. He knows you have increased revenues and fueled LHRE’s expansion, even if he doesn’t say so,” Tyler pulled Regan back to the conversation and away from the danger zone where her memories were headed.

  “Yes, but it would be nice to hear it once in a while.”

  “Well, I am happy to tell you that you belong at the helm, and that I believe we are going to be a powerhouse couple – team I mean. No one will be able to compete.”

  “I think you are right, Tyler,” Regan agreed, ignoring his slip of the tongue. “It is going to be fantastic to look at things with your fresh perspective.”

  “There we go, talking business again. I am determined not to do that while we are sitting here. Tell me about Missy and the kids, I have not seen them in ages.”

  Regan bragged about her nieces, flashed pictures like the doting aunt she was then shared the latest on her mother’s charities. It felt like before Brandon, before Tyler’s displays of jealousy, when she believed she had Tyler firmly in the friend column and was comfortable with him there.

  She asked about his older brother. It was a sore subject and one he usually was reticent to discuss. Tyler struggled to feel worthy in his parents’ eyes compared to Denton, who was four years his senior. They had been close as children, but the comparisons had been relentless and their summer together in Europe had finally driven them apart.

  “Denny is good,” he told her now, with no animosity evident. “Denny is always good. He’s wintering in Florida with his family, but he is hard at work. His eldest will be looking at prep schools next year, then college. It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “He married young, though, right out of graduate school.”

  “True, and he has sure put the pressure on me to marry and have kids. My mother never stops talking about it.”

  Regan nodded her head in agreement. “Mine either.” They both fell silent. Regan always thought she would marry Tyler and have a family quickly as well and he knew it.

  Regan took a breath and plunged back in. Who knew that simple discussions about family could conceal so many conversational landmines. “How is Denny’s work going?”

  “Great. He feels he is on the verge of a breakthrough.”

  “He always says that.” They shared a laugh at the truth of her statement.

  Denton Winthrop was a famous cancer research doctor and head of a small biotech company affiliated with the University of Chicago Medical School.

  “If anyone can cure cancer, you know it will be Denny. At least my father thinks so.”

  “Most of the world thinks so, Tyler,” Regan added softly. She wished she could take the words back immediately. She understood the rivalry between the brothers. She had observed it first hand.

  Throughout their childhoods, Tyler’s father had lavished his attention and praise almost exclusively on Denny. While most children worried that their parents loved their siblings more, in Tyler’s case it appeared to be true. Emmett Winthrop had doted on his eldest son to the detriment of Tyler and Regan believed that situation had pushed Tyler to pretend a bravado he didn’t feel until his confidence caught up with him after law school. But she knew it had left scars, too.

  “Let’s change the subject,” Tyler suggested with a small self-deprecating laugh. “How did the Howe Museum fundraiser turn out?”

  “You were there, you know it was a sell-out.”

  “I meant how did they do financially?” he clarified.

  “Oh, sorry, of course. They beat all of their goals which was fantastic. The family was very happy and the trustees ecstatic.”

  “That’s great. I am so pleased for Steven and Missy. They worked like dogs on this one. Speaking of benefits, you and I are still on for the Rita Hayworth ball next month, right? Would you rather I bow out so you can bring your senator?”

  “Would you stop calling him mine, please?”

  “But he is yours, Regan. Otherwise, why would I even be here right now?” Tyler looked away, fiddling with his silverware. “You’re happy right? This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  There it was, unavoidable now that Tyler had asked a direct question. Regan found herself uncharacteristically tongue tied and suddenly paid careful attention to her halibut and risotto. After taking a moment, perhaps expecting a response that she didn’t offer, Tyler put his finger under her chin, tilting her gaze until it met his. “You know you can always talk to me, Ree. About anything. If you’re not sure about all this…” he let the thought trail off.

  “Of course we are still going together to the fund raiser,” Regan prattled, avoiding the question of her happiness. “We made these plans ages ago, and being together makes more sense then ever.” Tyler’s eyebrow shot up in surprise at her statement. Regan blushed. “What I mean is that we will be at the LHRE table and now that you are heading LHRE it only makes sense for us to attend together. I am sure Brandon will understand.”

  “Are you? I am not so sure,” Tyler mumbled under his breath. “If he does, he’s a fool. I know I wouldn’t be happy, if it were me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tyler

  “You have to stop calling me here. I can’t keep doing this,” Tyler ground out through gritted teeth into his cellphone. Standing in the newly furnished office, listening to his voice reverberate off the hard surfaces, he prayed the space was soundproof. If Regan caught a whiff of his conversation, all deals would be off.

  “I told you I am in a new profession, remember? I just got here and it would be nice to keep my position more than a couple of weeks. You are asking me to risk everything.” He paused to listen to the speaker. “Maybe you don’t care, but I do.”

  Surprisingly, Tyler was excited to be leading LHRE for the next year or two. After only two weeks, he was in charge and full of ideas for ways to move the business forward. Of course, working closely with Regan, even from a distance, was an enticing benefit. They had enjoyed a blissful week working side by side and then he suffered an agonizing week while she was in DC. At least when she was gone, he didn’t have to worry about these damn phone calls.

  “Right, like I t
old you, I have left Lyons Tech, so I can’t help you. Not that I would have anyway.” Anyone standing twenty feet away would have heard the shouting coming through the phone and Tyler had to hold it away from his ear for a moment. “I am not lying. Call over there, they will confirm it. Go find another patsy.”

  The caller spoke at length while Tyler listened attentively. Eventually, there was a break in the diatribe and Tyler replied. “I can’t do that and you know it. Your demands are ridiculous.”

  Hearing the response, Tyler sank into his office chair, the color draining from his face.

  “That’s crazy. You know we’ll get caught. Do you want to take that risk?”

  More shouting caused Tyler to hold the phone away again, but he continued listening, scribbling notes on the pad in front of him.

  “Yes, I heard you. Yes, I understand. I don’t think I can help you, I really don’t. No matter what, this has to stop. Enough is enough and this is way out of my league. I am running out of options here. You are being unrealistic.” Tyler tried to keep his voice level, but strong. He needed to get his point across without showing the fear gripping every molecule of his body.

  More shouting ensued. Tyler rose to his feet in response, and began shouting in return. So much for not showing emotion. “I mean it. This is the last time. This is no idle threat. It was one thing when it was just me, but this is out of the question.” More shouting came from the other person. “You sure as hell aren’t going to get me to help you with Wyatt. Even if I still worked there, the answer would be no.”

  The caller obviously calmed down and Tyler retook his seat, lowering his voice as well. “Where? Why do you care where? You just need to know it’s not Lyons Tech Solutions.”

  “You don’t…” the caller interrupted Tyler. “You don’t…” he tried again. “You don’t need to know. It’s not relevant.” He started to hang up the phone, but something the caller said stopped him, hand in midair and Tyler listened attentively.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he breathed, clearly shaken. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The caller said one last sentence and hung up. Tyler was holding the phone to his ear, listening to silence, his heart racing, his blood chilled.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Tyler finally mumbled, hurling his cell against the wall, It left a dent in the sheetrock before falling to the Berber carpeting. He sank lower in the chair and dropped his head into his hands, defeated. “What the hell am I going to do?”

  He sat for a solid minute before walking over to pick up the phone. He moved like an old man, or a humbled one. He checked the phone and seeing that it still worked, dialed a number.

  “Mother,” he said without preamble, “it’s time to bring Father into this mess.” He listened to his mother’s response. “I wouldn’t if I could I avoid it. No, no, I am absolutely sure. I have no other choice.”

  His mother said something that caused Tyler to pause as he nervously paced the carpet from wall to window. In a small, insecure voice he asked, “Do you think he will help?”

  Chapter Ten

  Regan

  “What the hell are you wearing?” Tyler barked at Regan.

  “Marchesa,” she replied calmly. “Do you like it?”

  “Don’t play this game with me, Regan. You look indecent.”

  “Tyler, you sound like my father. Or Ivy, which is worse.”

  “You would never have worn that if your father or your brother were attending, and you know it.”

  “But they aren’t here, so come dance with me.” She turned her back and strolled away on ridiculously high heels, a triumphant smile on her face, listening to Tyler trying to control his angry breathing.

  She was determined to get an honest reading tonight. She knew Tyler. He would do everything possible to keep his emotions in check. Regan was determined to do everything possible to get under his skin.

  They had done beautifully driving the 20 minutes to the Rita Hayworth Gala. She had discussed current events and political tidbits that she had gleaned from her new congressional friends. Tyler had kept his side of the conversation solely about business.

  But as she had known would happen, Tyler couldn’t control his reaction when he helped her remove her coat. The dress was barely there, a knee-length dress of nude, layered lace. The bottom looked like a Disney concoction except it was sheer, displaying most of her thighs.

  That was nothing compared to the top. The top was nothing more than a sheer corset covered in lace. The stays were visible along with a lot of skin.

  Selecting the dress had been tough. She loved that Tyler would see so much, but she worried that so would everyone else. Her nipples were hidden, but just barely.

  Tyler’s reaction was worth every agonizing moment. She had made the right decision. Regan watched as Tyler’s mouth went dry. He lost his tongue, his manners and control over his erection. He was worse than a randy teenage boy, and unable to hide it.

  When Tyler caught up with the quickly disappearing Regan all he could ask was “Can you dance in those shoes?”

  “Let’s find out,” came Regan’s snappy retort.

  Tyler seized two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing server, handing one to Regan and gulping down the other, moving to the vicinity of the dance floor. Their progress was slowed several times by business people, politicians and philanthropists seeking their time, their connections, their advice or their money. Both Regan and Tyler were astute at handing requests and moving away quickly having made no promises.

  Then she was in his arms. He was holding her slightly too close. Regan let her slim body go soft in his arms, let Tyler run his hands over her warm skin. “You feel like velvet,” he whispered as he danced slowly around the room, running his hands over her arms, back and shoulders. When she rested her head against his chest he placed a whisper of a kiss on the top of her head, so soft that she feared she imagined it.

  “We dance well together, don’t we, even in these shoes?” she teased him when the song ended and they moved to mingle with the crowds. “Tell me again why we don’t do it more.”

  “Because of your senator?” Was that an accusation or a question in his voice?

  “Really, Tyler, you want to have that conversation here and now?” Regan was emboldened by the look in his eye, the way he had held her, that soft brush of his lips. “How long did you really think I would wait for you?”

  Fortunately, they were interrupted by their host the Executive Director of the Alzheimer’s Association. LHRE was a big supporter of the cause. Talk about bad timing. Regan had been planning to have a serious talk with Tyler about their relationship, but she thought they would do it privately. Now she had put it out there; would he take the bait?

  Time was passing them by. Regan needed Tyler to act now or she needed to move on with Brandon. Tyler had been the boy for her, and she still believed he could be the man for her, but for some reason, he did not see her in that light. If this dress didn’t do it, nothing would.

  “Hey Jerk,” she had hollered to him across the playground the first time she had ever seen him. He was tongue-tied and clumsy around the young Regan, but she was brash and confident in pigtails with two skinned knees. She walked over, her hands cupped in front of her, said “I’m Regan. Here.” and gently placed a frog in his hands. She flashed him a proud smile, “I caught it myself, in the pond.” Tyler smiled, took the frog, and gave her a tiny kiss on the cheek. Then he was gone and she was a goner.

  Since that day, their lives had come together and separated. Before she accepted a job In Washington and the advances of another man, Tyler needed to step up or actually say it was over in words.

  “Let’s not discuss it now,” Tyler ended the conversation, spoke quickly with the director and relinquished her only briefly to another donor. Taking Regan back in his arms, he swept her on to the dance floor. They moved in time to the music, eyes locked, in a world of their own.

  “I could dance with you all night,” he whispered, his br
eath warm on her ear, “and never let go.”

  Before she could reply, had she chosen to, the emcee announced dinner. Speeches and polite table talk took over the evening. With little effort, Tyler and Regan transitioned. The moment on the dance floor gave way to business.

  They put their heads together thoughout the evening, to discuss how they would approach potential clients, who would take the lead, who would say what.

  “Okay, so we have a game plan,” he said to her, a determined air about him, reviewing their business strategy once more.

  “You make this so much easier than working the crowd alone,” Regan freely admitted. “I am glad you are here, Tyler. You are so good at putting our big clients at ease.”

  “I’m glad, too,” he mumbled with a smoldering look leaving no doubt of his meaning. Could he see the play of emotions on her face? She was so pleased and so confused. Did he want her? Was he just teasing? Would he rope her in only to push her away again? She was playing with fire and needed to stop unless he would commit to their future.

  Regan turned her focus to the needs of LHRE instead of her own. She and Tyler were a strong sales team, even playing good cop, bad cop once or twice, with outstanding results that gained LHRE a previously reluctant new client before the end of dinner.

  Later, when they again huddled close, this time over the list of items up for auction, Tyler was back in control, keeping things friendly, laughing and teasing Regan over her choices. She didn’t care about the items. She was all about raising needed dollars for the charity. She bid recklessly on theater and sports tickets, dinners and brunches and even high-performance driver’s training. She had no idea what she would do with any of it, if she was the successful bidder.

  Tyler’s cellphone vibrated incessantly, until Regan finally suggested he read the texts and deal with whomever was so demanding.

  “Is everything ok? Sounds like an emergency to me.”