“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
Chris finally turns back to me then her eyes flicker to Alec. Her smile is brilliant, like she just now noticed he’s with me. “I’m sorry. I’m so rude! I’m Chris, Chris Wells, Sam’s sister.”
“Chris and Sam?” He directs his question to me, cocking his brow again. I’m beginning to love that gesture. It says so much without him actually having to say a thing. He turns back to Chris. “Alec Brand,” he says, inclining his head slightly. The action is almost regal. It suits him, making me wonder about his life. I haven’t even gotten that far in my head. And it’s not as though I don’t care; I’m insanely curious about the real life Mason. It’s just that, so far, my brain seems to stop working when he’s around.
“Yes, I remember,” Chris replies, still smiling broadly.
Alec nods. “Ah, the coffee shop. Right,” he says, his smile a mere curve of the lips. Pleasant yet bland. I feel a little thrill that he’s not flirting and doesn’t seem to be instantly enamored of her like most men. Most of them lose their wits completely when she smiles.
But not Alec. In fact, he seems almost oblivious to her beauty and charm, a fact that makes me like him that much more. It also makes me that much more intrigued.
I wonder that he doesn’t seem surprised at the lack of family resemblance. Our coloring, our features, our build—nothing is even slightly similar. We couldn’t be more different. He seems not to have noticed, and if he did, must not think anything of it. It’ll be interesting to see if he’s equally blasé about the differences between me and my parents.
“A drink?” Alec asks.
“Yes, please. I’ll have a rum and Coke.”
He nods once and turns to Chris. “Would you like a refill?”
“Rum and Coke for me, too, please,” Chris says, holding up her half empty glass.
With another nod, he moves away toward the bar. I worry my bottom lip with my teeth as I watch him go.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Chris asks. “Are you trying to find a way to sabotage yourself, just like you always do?”
I turn a frown on her. “I don’t sabotage myself.”
“Yes, you do. You let your past screw up your present all the time!”
“No I don’t.”
Chris shakes her head. “We’ll see.”
“Just because I prefer not to subject myself or anyone else to certain…shortcomings, that does not mean I’m letting my past screw up my present. It simply means that I can use wisdom and discretion.”
“Well, I’m glad that, for the moment, you’re turning off ‘wisdom and discretion’.”
I glance toward Alec again. He’s walking back toward us with two drinks in one big hand and one in the other. “Boy did I ever,” I say softly.
“Well,” Chris begins, taking one of the drinks from Alec’s hand when he extends it toward her. “I suppose I ought to go rescue Greg. He’s been captured and is currently being held against his will.” She tips her head to indicate a group of blue-haired elderly ladies encircling one handsome, blond Greg on the other side of the room. “Don’t you know he’s got some powerful pheromones to penetrate that kind of cobweb.”
I grin. I’ve long since given up on trying to curb Chris’s colorful commentary.
She turns to Alec. “It was great seeing you again, Alec.”
“The pleasure was mine,” he says politely.
“I hope to see you again,” she adds pointedly. I feel my face go up in flames. “You know, Sam here is pretty irresistible.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
I hold my breath, hoping she’ll stop there. Chris has a nasty habit of embarrassing me.
Alec glances at me, his expression unfathomable. “I get that feeling.”
Chris’s face splits into a broad smile. Her eyes flicker to me and I know what she’s thinking. I wait anxiously, praying she’ll hold her tongue.
“Well,” she begins. My heart stops. “I’m off to play heroine.” Chris winks at me and I exhale.
Crisis averted.
As she walks away, Alec turns toward me. “What did you think she was going to say?”
“Pardon?”
“You held your breath. What did you think she was going to say?”
I stammer for a moment, a bit disconcerted by his perceptiveness. It gives me a little thrill that he’s paying such close attention to me that he can hear me breathing. “I, uh, she, um. With Chris, it’s hard to tell.”
“Were you afraid she’d divulge some deep, dark secret?”
I would say that I don’t have any, but I’d be lying. And I’m a terrible liar. Instead, I go with silence.
“A woman with secrets. I’m even more intrigued,” he says softly, his eyes dropping from my eyes to my mouth. “Maybe I can work my magic on those lips of yours, make them open up a bit.”
My lips tingle as if he were actually touching them. Or kissing them.
“Alec Brand,” a voice booms from the right, breaking the spell of the moment. “Glad you could make it.”
“Glad you could make it”? He was already invited?
A white-haired bear-of-a-man stops in front of us, clamping one meaty hand on Alec‘s shoulder and grasping his hand with the other. The man’s chest is barreled and his face is red as he huffs breathlessly. He looks like a walking advertisement for a heart attack.
“Dr. Simmons, it’s good to see you.”
Dr. Simmons smiles and pumps Alec’s hand, his eyes drifting over to settle on me. They twinkle with mischief.
“Ah, now I see the trick to getting the elusive Mr. Brand out for the night. Put a beautiful woman on his arm.”
“What won’t a man do for a night with a beautiful woman?” Alec says amicably, smiling blandly at the doctor.
“A good question, my boy.” The doctor laughs heartily, as though Alec just made a great joke.
“Dr. Simmons, meet Ms. Samantha Jansen.”
“A pleasure, my dear.”
I smile politely and nod. “Sir.”
Dr. Simmons turns back to Alec. “Helps with the boredom, am I right?” He elbows Alec in the ribs and laughs an inordinately boisterous laugh again. “I’m sure you’ve been to your share of these things, what with your father being in the business.”
Alec nods, but says nothing. I wait anxiously for the good doctor to reveal another tidbit about Alec Brand. When he doesn’t, I make an inquiry, trying to keep it as light and nonchalant as possible.
“Your father’s in medicine?” I ask.
Before Alec can answer, Dr. Simmons chimes in. “Oh yes. One of the most brilliant minds in the field.”
I nod, tucking away the tiny piece of information in the pitifully empty mental file labeled Alec Brand.
“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Dr. Simmons,” Alec says abruptly as he places his hand in the small of my back. “Samantha, shall we?”
I’m puzzled by his curt response to Dr. Simmons. Puzzled, but very curious. Does he not want his business associate giving away any more details of his life? Does he not like him for some reason? Why the hasty departure?
Rather than ask any questions, I nod and smile politely at Dr. Simmons.
“It was nice to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise,” he says in his gruff voice, seeming a bit more subdued now. If I had to guess, Dr. Simmons is probably accustomed to people sucking up to him. Although Alec was polite, he certainly wasn’t unduly impressed or too keen on making more conversation with the doctor. Just another facet of Alec’s personality that reminds me of Mason.
Stop doing that, I chastise as Alec guides me off in the opposite direction.
I’m distracted by the voice in my head, so the question gets out before I can stop it. “So your father is in medicine?”
“Yes,” he replies.
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before then. My father is a neurosurgeon.”
Alec doesn’t even glance down at me as he answers. He just keeps moving us through the crowd, his answers still short and clipped.
“My father is out west.”
“Oh. So you’re not from around here?”
“No.”
“But you work here now, right?”
“I have an office here, yes.”
“What kind of office?”
“Consulting.”
He doesn’t hesitate to give me the answer, so I don’t doubt that it’s true. But it only serves to spawn more questions.
Consulting? What kind of consulting? It must be something in the medical field for him to be at a function like this. That or he’s some kind of rich big-wig donator. That’s not entirely out of the question considering that he has a tailor-made tuxedo on hand and he drives a Range Rover.
The questions keep coming, but at least they stay inside my head. I get the feeling by the firm set of his mouth that he isn’t enjoying my interrogation nearly as much as I am.
“What k—”
Alec comes to a sudden stop and turns toward me.
“This really isn’t necessary, you know.”
“What isn’t necessary?”
“Knowing every detail of each other’s life. I already know everything I need to know about you for what I have in mind. I don’t want you to be confused about what’s going to happen between us.” I’m disappointed that he doesn’t want to know me and doesn’t want me to know him, but I don’t have time to consider it before he takes a step toward me. “The things I’m going to do to you, the things I’m going to show you have nothing to do with your job or your family or where you spend your time. It’s just about you. And me. And all the pleasure we can give each other.”
There’s fire in his eyes. And fire in my belly. There’s no denying that he kindles a reaction in me.
In addition to the excitement he makes me feel, however, there’s dread and unease. Anxiety. Yes, I feel a nervousness about stepping into the unknown, but I also feel an old, familiar fear clawing its way up, the fear that this will end just like all the others—badly.
But it’s not too late. I can stop it. I can spare myself the pain and humiliation, the devastation of my reality. All I have to do is walk away from this man, from what I see in his eyes.
It sounds so simple. And it might be. If he were anybody but Mason. My Mason, come to life. Whether it’s the right decision or the healthy decision for me remains to be seen. Maybe this could be a breakthrough. Maybe this could be a setback. I have no way of knowing.
Maybe that’s a question for someone who’s paid to see things objectively.
For the first time since Chris badgered me into therapy, I’m seeing a possible use for the advice of a professional.
“I’m not trying to scare you away. I just want you going into this with the right mindset. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret it,” he says earnestly as he reaches up to take a curl from my shoulder. He brings it to his nose and inhales before he lays it against my chest, the backs of his fingers barely brushing the curve of my breast. Chills shoot down my arm and my nipple puckers, a silent vote on behalf of my body. “And trust me when I say, I’m a very determined man.”
I’d all but forgotten the rest of the room when a familiar voice calls my name from somewhere over my left shoulder. I turn toward the woman I consider to be my real mother.
Her smile is quick and bright inside her mocha face, and her dark brown eyes are wide with delight. “Samantha! I knew you’d make it.” I see her eyes dart to Alec before she kisses my cheeks and hugs me to her. She whispers in my ear, “I’m so glad you’re not alone, baby girl.” When she leans back, she winks at me and then turns her attention to Alec. “Who is your friend?”
“Mom, this is Alec Brand. Alec, this is my mother, Deandra Johnson.”
“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure,” Alec says with a nod, his smile warm and polite.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Mom says. Her thick Southern accent is evident in the dropped R, making the word sound like pleashuh, and the fact that each word is drawn out to twice its normal length.
“Sammy,” Dad says as he steps up behind my foster mother, interrupting the conversation. “There’s my girl.”
He reaches around to envelope me in his arms, arms that seem to shrink each time I see him. I feel a pang in the vicinity of my heart. It’s so hard to watch age claim him.
“Dad, I’d like you to meet Alec Brand,” I say when he releases me. “Alec, this is my father, Andre Johnson.”
Alec extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Alec says, shaking my father’s hand and nodding at my mother. “I’m familiar with your work, sir. Your reputation precedes you.”
I watch as the two men quietly size up each other. I’m not surprised to find that Alec is impressed by my father; most people are. What does surprise me is his comfort level with it. I’m beginning to think Alec is never intimidated, that he’s accustomed to doing all the intimidating himself.
Along that vein, what surprises me most is the look of respect and approval that comes over Dad’s aging, dark brown face. While he’s an extremely kind man and always polite, I haven’t often seen him genuinely impressed. Yet it seems in two minutes, Alec has managed it. It only makes him that much more appealing, and he’s already dangerously fascinating to me.
“What is it that you do, Mr. Brand?” Dad asks curiously. It seems that Alec can sink his claws into practically anyone with ease.