In The Arms of a Donovan: A Sexy BBW Billionaire Family Series Romance (The Donovans Book 13) (15 page)

“I don’t like your cooking,” Albert said to Brandon’s retreating back.

That made two of them, but Brandon didn’t feel like broaching that subject. He wasn’t the best cook, hence the reason he had a food service on contract. Problem was, he hadn’t had an opportunity to give them a call and re-route the service to his father’s address and to make it for two instead of one. He’d been so busy working on his own cases at the investment company and trying to keep his hand in Donovan Oilwell at the same time, that it had slipped his mind. First thing tomorrow morning, he reminded himself as he walked down the stairs. That was the first call he was going to make.

His cell phone rang in his pocket as if his thoughts had reached out into the cosmos to send him a reminder.

“Hello?” he answered as he came to the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi, Brandon,” she said. “It’s me, um, Amber. Well, I had a meeting in Miami a couple days ago and I thought that maybe, before I returned home, that I’d just…ah, that I could stop by and visit you.”

Brandon felt instant relief wash over him. He literally stopped moving, his feet still on the last step and smiled. “A visit from you would be great,” he told her. Seeing her was more needed than Brandon had realized.

“When were you thinking of coming?” he asked.

“Um, I’m at the airport now. If you’re not busy, you could perhaps, come and pick me up?”

She didn’t even have to ask. In the next second Brandon was telling her he was on his way. He left the house, climbing into his car in record time and headed for the airport without even telling Albert that dinner would be slightly delayed.

Chapter 12

“What the hell?” Brandon yelled as he stepped closer to Amber only to have something jump out of one of her bags.

“Oh!” Amber gasped.

He caught whatever the hell it was in one hand and was just about to toss it to the ground when Amber grabbed his wrist.

“That’s Essie,” she said before chuckling.

Essie?

The ball of fur that was right now squirming in his grasp and making a godawful sickly barking sound had a name?

“She’s my dog,” Amber told him and then reached over to take Essie from Brandon’s grip. “See. She’s harmless and adorable.”

Brandon stared down at the black and tan fur ball and frowned. “That’s a dog?”

“Yes, it is,” Amber continued. She was tucking the dog into a bag and pulling the zipper partially closed. “She’s a Teacup Yorkie. And she’s harmless so you can stop looking like you thought she was going to bite your face off.”

She was still laughing when Brandon began to shake his head. He didn’t find the attack from the handful of hair humorous at all.

“Who buys a dog that small? Hell, how does a dog even get to be that small? And it’s really called a ‘teacup’?”

“Yes,” she said, moving closer to him as someone hurried around her. “They’re a growing breed.”

He clasped his hands on her shoulders, loving the feel of touching her again. God, he’d missed her. Brandon had never missed anyone, but his mother, before.

“Apparently they’re not growing tall enough,” he quipped and led her down the sidewalk and through the parking lot to where he’d left the car.

Once he had her suitcases in the trunk, leaving the bag with the miniature loudmouth in the passenger seat with her, Brandon climbed into the driver’s side of his matte silver BMW M5. She was just clicking her seatbelt in place when he heard the noisy little animal moving around in the bag.

“Is that all it does? Make noise?” he asked, with a frown as he looked over to see that she’d placed the dog carrier on the console between their seats.

“She keeps me company. I hated having to leave her during the promotional tour but it was just going to be too hectic running all over the world with her in tow,” she told him. “When everybody else goes away, Essie is always there for me. So I couldn’t leave her this time.”

Brandon didn’t have anyone, or anything like that. When everybody went away in his life, they just went away, and he was alone. A sobering thought, he figured as he started the car and maneuvered his way out of the lot.

“So you didn’t say what you were doing in Miami,” he said once they were on the highway.

“I had a meeting with a chemist and a marketing company,” she told him.

“Really? For what? Does this have something to do with the Foundation?”

“No. This is a little project I’ve been working on for a while. Now that I’ve had a chance to bank most of the paychecks and bonuses from working for the Foundation and the last photo shoots I did in the past months, I can finally start working on this idea.”

“I’d love to hear more about it,” he said and turned a corner.

“It’s just a thought my sister and I had when we were little girls. We both loved to play in my mother’s make-up and jewelry. Her lotions used to smell so good and we loved playing in her shoes, we thought we were in heaven.” She laughed.

Brandon smiled at the sound.

“My oldest sister Rita is the one who taught me how to apply eyeshadow without going blind. Delta knows everything about clothes and Fiona, she’s the hair guru. We’re all girly-girls, as my brother always says. So when I started modeling and making some really good money I suggested the three of us open our own cosmetics company. Delta’s always thinking so she had lots of questions and things she wanted to iron out first, but she was on board. Fiona loved the idea. Rita said we’d all invest the same amount so it would be ours equally, but I’ll be the face of the company.”

“Since you have such a terrific face and because the public is already familiar with it,” Brandon finished for her. “That’s a good plan.”

When he looked over she was smiling at him and his chest swelled.

“You should write down some of this stuff, I’m sure it will come in handy for men all over the world,” she told him.

“I’m not making it up or trying to impress you,” he told her seriously. “I just say whatever comes to my mind when I’m with you.”

It was true and it was false at the same time. Brandon had never been the impulsive one. Everything he did and said, he thought about first, he’d had to since he always felt as if he’d had to try just a little bit harder than the other men in his family. Whenever he thought about approaching a woman he analyzed his probability of success the same way he’d analyze an investment for a client. And when that didn’t go as he’d hoped, Brandon already had his exit strategy rehearsed. Be prepared, but go with the flow. That had been his motto. Until he’d met Amber.

“Oh really? So this is you not trying. Well, then I’m afraid for the next woman you really try to impress,” she said lightly.

“Don’t get me wrong, if my words impress you, I’ll keep talking for hours,” he told her, trying for the same light mood she had because he had no idea why his thoughts were taking such a serious turn where she was concerned.

When she didn’t respond right away Brandon looked over at her. She was staring out the window.

“Sometimes the words are all there is,” she said quietly.

“You’re absolutely right,” Brandon said. “That’s why people should always choose their words carefully.”

Amber shook her head. “People should choose everything carefully.”

He agreed, but didn’t say so.

“Why are you here?” Brandon asked after a short silence. “Why did you decide to come visit me?”

She reached a hand into the dog carrier, to pet the little noise box, Brandon supposed.

“I’d been talking about you a lot in the last week, I figured I should at least see you again to try and figure out why you’d managed to get stuck in my head, when I’d sworn that wasn’t a good idea from the start.”

An honest answer, Brandon thought. Damn honest and more than a little appealing to him since he’d been trying to figure out why he felt like he needed to keep reaching out to her as well.

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Brandon told her. “I’ve been thinking about you far more than I thought I would.”

“Exactly,” she said. “It’s weird, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I think so,” he replied.

Weird that he’d met this extraordinary woman by chance on a business cruise and that he’d been unable to get her out of his head. Even stranger that this woman had been thinking non-stop about him too.

“I can go to a hotel,” she said when they’d traveled a few blocks without speaking. “If you just recommend a good one. I know I should have thought about that ahead of time, but this trip was really a last minute thing.”

“You can stay with me,” he said, gripping and then lessening his hold on the steering wheel as he drove. “I mean, I’m staying with my father right now because he’s just getting out of the hospital. There are five bedrooms in the house so there’s no reason why you can’t stay in one of them.”

“Oh my goodness, you should have told me. If I’d known your dad was sick I wouldn’t have come,” she said.

Brandon shook his head. “It’s not a problem. He’s doing better, he just needs to get some serious rest for a couple of weeks. I’ve been working from an office at the house so I can keep my eye on him. While you’re here he’ll have two pair of eyes on him.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” she continued. “I’ll just call a taxi and a hotel when we get to your dad’s place.”

Brandon reached a hand over the console and was rewarded with more doggie yipping that he promptly ignored and took Amber’s hand in his. “Are you afraid I’ll bite if you stay?”

She looked down at their entwined fingers and grinned when Essie poked her head up through the opening of the bag.

“I’m not afraid of getting bit if you aren’t,” she said just before Brandon pulled his hand from hers to swipe at Essie.

The dog continued to protest while Amber laughed.

“You two are going to become the best of friends,” she said.

“I doubt that,” Brandon replied and was about to suggest they find a good dog sitter until she returned to Chicago, but the sight of flashing lights stopped him.

He’d just turned onto the street where his father lived. About a quarter mile down the road was the turn-off to the driveway of the house. That entire length was lined with police cars and fire trucks.

“What’s going on here?” Amber asked.

“I don’t know,” Brandon said as he slowed down because the police cars were blocking a clear path up the street.

“Looks like whatever happened was at that house up there on the hill,” she said.

That house, Brandon thought, was his father’s.

He stopped the car, jumping out with his keys still in the ignition and ran towards the house. He wasn’t sure but he thought Amber called his name and maybe he heard that damn dog barking again, but he didn’t know and he didn’t turn back to see. He kept moving toward the house, toward his father. Until strong hands pushed at his chest, knocking him a few steps back.

“Whoa, buddy. Where do you think you’re going?” an officer asked him.

“That’s my house,” Brandon said. “My father’s in there!”

Brandon headed forward once more, but the cop held him back. “Nobody’s going in there right now.”

“Where’s my father?”

“Who the hell is this?” another cop asked when he approached.

“Says this is his house,” the first cop told the second one, his tone every bit as snide as his look.

“It
is
my house,” Brandon stated once more.

The cops continued to stare at him, not believing a word he was saying. Already certain the cops were probably thinking that a black man couldn’t own a multi-million dollar house unless he was wearing gold teeth and chains and busting out rap lyrics, or selling drugs for some huge cartel, Brandon frowned. He held on to his temper as well, slowly reaching behind his back to get his wallet. Two years ago Albert had updated his will. During that time he’d also insisted that the children’s names be added to the deed of this house and the building that had been purchased long ago where his mother’s book store still stood. So while Brandon’s ID had the address of his apartment on it, there was no one in this town that didn’t know of Donovan Oilwell. His name should be enough to let them know who he was and that he definitely had a legal interest here.

“Whoa there fella,” the first cop said as he reached for his gun and pointed it directly at Brandon’s head.

No knee shot for him.

“I’m just reaching for my ID,” Brandon told him, but kept his eye on the man with the gun.

“Turn around,” the other cop said angrily as he gripped Brandon’s shoulders and pushed him in the other direction.

Brandon wanted to plant his fist in the cop’s face but realized that now definitely was not the time for this type of altercation. He felt the cop reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He also heard the slow expel of breath when the guy most likely read his driver’s license. Brandon turned around just in time to see Amber running up beside him.

“Like I said, I need to find my father,” he said, this time in a tone with absolutely no respect for the assholes who decided now was the time for racial profiling.

“Your father’s down that way with the medics,” cop number 2 said, offering Brandon’s wallet back to him, but not bothering to extend an apology.

“What happened?” Amber asked, immediately coming to Brandon’s side and touching a hand to his arm. “Should I call someone for you?”

Her cell phone was in her hand, the screen already lit. Brandon figured she’d been ready to record the altercation with the police. It was a damn shame that this was the state of the world now, where civilians had to tape everything in order to protect their civil rights.

“Talk to someone down there,” the first cop said, full of attitude as he turned and walked away.

Cop number 2 shrugged his shoulders and told them, “Bomb squad’s up at the house right now. They’re sweeping the property. Nobody can go in right now. Lead detective is down there getting a statement from your father.”

“Thanks a lot,” Brandon said with disgust as he walked away from the cop.

When they were a few steps away he said to Amber, “Give me your phone.”

“What? Oh, yeah, you need to call your sister and brother,” she was saying as she handed her phone to him.

“No. I want to text myself the badge numbers of those two assholes so I’ll have them when I file my official report first thing tomorrow morning.”

She didn’t say anything while he sent the text. She hadn’t even asked why he hadn’t used his own phone to store the information. His phone was in his pocket but with all that was happening he’d simply remembered seeing hers in her hand and asked for it.

Albert was sitting on a bed inside an ambulance. There was a man dressed in a dark suit kneeling in front of him, a notepad and pen in hand. Another uniformed officer was standing right beside the open doors of the vehicle as if he actually thought a sixty-two-year-old man who’d suffered a heart attack a week ago was going to make a run for it.