Deceived (26 page)

No
, she thought.
They hadn’t made love. It was casual sex.
It shouldn’t feel so earth-shattering. Maybe it wouldn’t have, if the day itself had been better, if she hadn’t already felt like her life was upside down.

Brandon knocked.

Casual sex
, she reminded herself.
Be casual about it
.

He asked, through the door, “Are you all right?”

She stepped out. He was almost dressed, but his shirt was unbuttoned. She tried to give him a smile as he handed her clothes to her, but her smile didn’t quite make it to her lips. “I wish we could stay on this jet.”

Serious green eyes held her gaze. “Me too.”

As she slipped into the sundress, he reached for her, lifted her hair, tied the halter tie, then planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck. A hard bump of turbulence separated them. The pilot announced that if they didn’t already have their seat belts on, now would be a good time. They finished dressing, then returned to the table in the forward compartment and fastened their seat belts.

He kissed her. A sweet kiss, on the lips. Then once again, deeper.

Yes
, she thought, as he wrapped his strong arms around her.
This is what I need. This. I need this.
He made her feel centered. Casual, she reminded herself. Act casual.

As the jet rolled to a stop, she had a moment of uncertainty. “How do I act as though nothing happened?”

He frowned. “Wait. Casual doesn’t mean that you have to act like nothing happened.

“Not with you,” she said, gesturing with her chin to the cockpit, “with the pilots. I know they heard me.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure they could have, but do you really care what they think?”

She stared at him, wondering if he was joking. “I was raised to care about what everyone thinks.”

He chuckled. “Do your composure thing. Stand up, shoulders back, your lips straight, and your eyes direct. Like when you were sitting across the interview table from me, when Joe was interrogating me. Act aloof, as though you’re above it all.”

She laughed. “I didn’t, and don’t, act like that.”

“You did and you do.” His serious expression was transformed by a delicious, wicked smile. “But now that I’ve been inside of you, and listened to you scream my name as you come, I know better.”

She tried not to blush as the cockpit door opened. They unfastened their seat belts and stood. The pilot who had greeted her earlier stepped out and nodded to them. Taylor squared her shoulders, put her chin up, and prayed that he hadn’t heard her scream.

Chapter Fifteen

Before they stepped out of the jet, Brandon pulled Taylor to the side. In a nod to her sense of decorum, he made sure that both pilots were out of sight, and then bent his forehead to hers. Hazel-green eyes gazed into his as he kissed her, deeply.

At some point he’d realized that it wasn’t simply that he wanted to have sex with her. He wanted all of her. Her mind, body, and everything about her, especially that low purr that was a verbal invitation to slide inside of her. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the hem of her sundress and moved his hand to the inside of her leg. She sighed into his mouth as he lifted the dress and traced a line up her thigh.

“Well, well, well. You really are busy these days.”

Son of a bitch.

Brandon broke the kiss and took his hands off of Taylor, as he turned towards Sebastian. At six feet five, Sebastian was an inch taller than him, and he had managed to climb the jet’s boarding ladder without Brandon hearing him. Every female who worked for Brandon told Brandon that Sebastian was a gorgeous hunk of a man. He had dark brown wavy hair, a sculpted body, and dimples in both cheeks that made him perpetually boyish. Even Amy, who only had eyes for Brandon, would become mush when Sebastian worked his charms. Now, Sebastian had a shit-eating grin, and his blue eyes had a head start on laughter that Brandon didn’t want to hear.

“Sebastian Connelly,” Brandon said, stepping away from Taylor, “this is Taylor Bartholomew.”

Taylor’s cheeks were flushed with red, yet she drew a deep breath, smoothed her dress with her right hand, her hair with her left, and squared her shoulders. After only a second’s hesitation, she extended a hand to Sebastian. “Hello.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Taylor. Pete gave me your schedule.” Sebastian explained to Brandon, and when Brandon got a close look at his friend, he realized that the laughter had faded from his eyes and, in its place, there was worry. “I coordinated my arrival time with yours so that you could give me a ride. Didn’t you see my jet when you landed?”

“I was busy,” Brandon said.

“You should look happier to see me,” Sebastian said. “After all, I dropped everything to fly here and meet my godson.”

“Who said anything about you being his godfather?” Brandon gestured for Sebastian to lead the way, then led Taylor down the stairs.

Once in the car, Sebastian sat in the back seat and stared at Brandon in the rearview mirror. Blue eyes, filled with unasked questions, held Brandon’s gaze. His friend didn’t attempt chit-chat, and Sebastian’s quiet manner as Brandon drove across town, to the Garden District, made him uncomfortable. Sebastian was usually only quiet when when he was seriously worried. He was miked, as always, to Black Raven’s home office. A tiny telephone, almost invisible, was hooked to his ear. It was controlled by buttons on his watch band. As they drove, he received at least three phone calls that Brandon counted. He answered questions with short, almost cryptic, one-word answers, and at one point he simply said, “Ragno. Talk to me.”

Taylor was quiet. She wore her sunglasses. Every now and then she glanced at Brandon, but with her calm, outward composure, and those damn shades, he had no idea what she was thinking. She pulled her phone out of her purse, and, out of the corner of his eye, he watched her type a text. On Saint Charles Avenue, she turned to look at her father’s mansion. It was five minutes to six. Men in black pants and white shirts were unloading catering trucks in the side driveway. A white canopy covered a red-carpeted path that led from the sidewalk to the front door. The wrought iron archway that welcomed guests was decorated with greens and white flowers. A New Orleans Police Department horse trailer was in front of the house, indicating that mounted police officers would be providing security.

Taylor made a phone call. “Clara, the valet stand is too close to the Saint Charles corner. There will be a traffic jam.” As Taylor gave instructions, she turned to get a better view of the house.

Brandon glanced in the rearview mirror, and saw that Sebastian watched as Taylor assessed the mansion. Sebastian locked eyes on Brandon. Sebastian mouthed a silent,
what the fuck
?

Taylor, still on the phone, asked, “Are there any problems?” She listened. After a pause, she added, “No.” Taylor glanced at her phone and pressed a button. “Oh. Yes. He did. Twice.” She sighed. “I’ll call him. I’ll be there in under an hour. Call me if you need anything.”

Brandon walked Taylor to her door, then lifted her sunglasses so that he could see her eyes. Her gaze was weary, as though she was processing too much. “One minute, two minutes, three.”

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“The night will be over before you know it,” he kissed her forehead. “If you need a friendly voice, call me.”

***

Taylor’s body ached from her afternoon with Brandon, and she craved a steaming, hot bath. Before she stripped and stepped into the tub, she dialed her father, who answered with, “I’ve tried to call you.”

“I know,” she said, “sorry. I’m having phone issues.”

“Claude won’t be here tonight.” Her father’s disapproval was evident in his tone. She shut her eyes. Of course Claude wasn’t going to be there. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since Collette’s death. It was only natural for him to need time away from HBW duties. George continued, “So you need to help with business contacts. I need you here early so that I can give you names.”

Taylor glanced at the clock. It was ten after six. “I’ll be there by seven.” She could make it there then, but she needed plenty of help. Carolyn knocked, then stepped into the bathroom. Taylor stripped and pulled her hair on top of her head in a tight ponytail, then looped the end of it so that it formed a bun. She didn’t have time for her hair to get wet. She turned, caught a glimpse of her body in the mirror, and met Carolyn’s wide-open eyes.

“Well, my goodness,” Carolyn said as she and Taylor both got an eye full of small bruises, left by Brandon’s thumbs, as he had gripped her hips. She turned, slightly. His fingertips had left bruises on her butt. Her left breast, inside of the nipple, had teeth marks and tiny suction bruises that seemed to darken as she stood there. More light teeth marks were on her right breast.

“Oh, no,” Taylor said, warm with sudden embarrassment.

“We can cover all of that with clothes,” Carolyn said. She stepped closer to examine the side of Taylor’s neck. “But that bruise is going to require a lot of concealer, and your hair cannot go up tonight. I only hope the make-up doesn’t rub off on the neck of that dress. It’s low in the front, but high in the back.” Carolyn studied Taylor’s face. “Good Lord. You even have stubble burn on your chin. It’s faint, now, but as the night wears on, it’s going to smart. You’re going to have to reapply concealer at the party. Now hurry. Get in the shower. There’s not time for a bath. Make the shower cold. Warm water will make those bruises turn darker.”

“I didn’t realize he was leaving marks,” Taylor mumbled, stepping into the cold shower, lathering, then stepping out. Bundled in a terry cloth robe, she sat at the make-up counter.

Carolyn studied Taylor’s eyes, and gave a slow, knowing nod. “You’re okay, right?”

Taylor nodded, “It was wonderful.” She tried to stifle the need to cry, but when she drew a deep breath, fat tears started to fall.

Carolyn held Taylor’s gaze in the mirror. “If it was wonderful, why are you crying?”

“I think I’m in love.” The words came out even before Taylor had formed the thought. Carolyn’s brow furrowed with concern. “I swear it’s not only because we had sex, but, my God, it was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Well, of course not. Honey, you’d never had sex before. Great sex is well,” Carolyn blushed, “it’s great. There’s nothing else like it.”

Taylor shook her head. “This isn’t just about the sex. He’s amazing. Strong-willed. Smart. Stoic. He’s witty and tough, but he’s caring and considerate. He makes me feel as though I’m important to him. He studies me, as though he can’t get enough of me. He sees
me
. Not a Bartholomew. No one,” she frowned, “aside from you, and Andi, and Collette,” fresh tears started as she said Collette’s name, “no man has ever made me feel like they would think the world of me, even if I wasn’t named Taylor Marlowe Bartholomew.”

“If he makes you feel so wonderful,” Carolyn asked, “why are you crying?”

Taylor explained the circumstances of Brandon’s wife’s death, how he almost killed himself with grief, and how he couldn’t talk about his wife, or her death, even five years later. “He’ll never love me. He won’t let himself.”

Carolyn shook her head. “I would think that a man who once loved a woman that much wants to love again.”

“I know. That’s what scares me. Because even if I could convince him to love me,” Taylor drew a deep breath, “I shouldn’t, because I’d be leading him on. We would never have a future. My father would never, ever accept him, for many, many reasons.” Taylor’s shoulders shook, and tears started flowing again. “I shouldn’t have made love to him. I can’t be casual about it and I can’t move on, as Andi would say. It was,” she paused, “so much more than a one-time thing. It felt like the beginning of something. Only there will never be anything there, because of my last name.”

“Well, you are more than your last name. From what you’ve said, this man seems to know that,” Carolyn said, “and one day, you’re going to have to stand up to your father, otherwise he’ll push you and push you until you’re a shell of yourself. I don’t know if this man is the reason to do it, but for now, Taylor, honey, please compose yourself. When your father couldn’t get you on your cell, he called the house phone twice. He is in quite a mood. You need to get ready and go. Now.”

***

When Brandon returned to the car, he found that Sebastian had moved to the front seat.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Brandon had a good idea what Sebastian was talking about, and he didn’t want to hear it. His thoughts were too muddled, his senses too raw.

“Drop it.”

“You said Bartholomew when you introduced me to her, but it didn’t occur to me that she was
that
Bartholomew.” Sebastian knew Brandon’s family history and, because Sebastian had been raised in the outskirts of New Orleans and still spent time in the city, he knew of the continued prominence of the Bartholomew family. “She’s a blue-blooded heiress, for God’s sake. Besides that,” he narrowed his eyes as he studied Brandon, “she looks young.”

“You don’t get to weigh in on my choice of women,” Brandon said. “Have you had any kind of meaningful relationship with a woman in the last, um, decade?”

“Don’t make this about me. You’re the one whose personal life is in a state of upheaval right now.”

“At least I have a personal life.”

“Fuck you too,” Sebastian said, his tone serious. “So answer my question. What the hell are you doing falling in love with an heiress with the last name of Bartholomew?”

“I’m not in love,” Brandon said as he drove. “Lust, maybe. Love? No.”

“You were gazing into her eyes…”

Brandon’s stomach twisted. “You almost caught us in the act, asshole.”

“You didn’t hear me walking up the freaking stairs, and I wasn’t trying to be quiet.”

“So I was looking into her eyes,” he shrugged, “big deal.”

“After being with her from Dallas to New Orleans, you didn’t have enough? Nobody
gazes
like that unless they’re in love. In the car, you kept glancing at her. I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since Amy.”

“Leave Amy out of this. It isn’t love. I just met Taylor. On Thursday, to be exact. Two days ago,” Brandon said.

“So?” Sebastian retorted.

Aww hell.
Brandon didn’t want to hear what he knew was coming. He floored the accelerator, jumped past traffic, then veered into the exit lane, as he glanced at Sebastian in time to see his friend shrug and shake his head.

“You told me you were going to marry Amy after your first date, which occurred within twelve hours of meeting her,” Sebastian said. “You and Amy never spent a night apart after your second date, which was the night after your first date. Amy reciprocated, at least.”

Brandon tried to tell himself that he wasn’t pissed, but Sebastian had finally gotten to him. He pulled into his neighborhood, forced himself to do the speed limit, then drew a deep breath and asked, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t fall often, Brandon, but when you do, you fall hard,” Sebastian said, “and I can’t freaking tell how this woman feels about you. Once her goddamn blush faded, she was cooler than ice.”

Brandon shrugged. “So she’s a challenge.”

“Hah. I knew it. You are in love.”

“Change the goddamn subject, Sebastian,” Brandon said.

“How do you know her, anyway?”

Sebastian wasn’t going to stop. Brandon couldn’t start talking about how he knew Taylor, though, without giving details about Lisa. They sat in the garage, with the door open, and the air conditioning running, for another fifteen minutes. Brandon concluded with their trip to Dallas and told him what Rorsch had said.