Made to Love (3 page)

He smiled then, showing off his perfectly
white teeth.  And dimples. 

This beautiful man had dimples. 

He was quite literally, without question, the
most gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes on. 

“I had an interview.  Today.   For a job
here.  I was just leaving--” I broke off, resisting the urge to fan myself. 
Nice.  He asks me if I’m enjoying my day and I give him a play by play.  I
leaned over and pushed the already brightly lit “L”.  We couldn’t possibly be
moving. 

“Ahh, an interview.  With who?” he asked.

“Um, Isaac Reynolds,” I replied, as if he
knew who Isaac Reynolds was. “There is a position open on his marketing team.

He raised his eye brows and nodded as the
elevator stopped at the lobby,
finally
, and held out his hand to allow
me to walk out before him.

“Well, good luck.  I hope they call you,” he
said as he stopped by the security desk.   I ducked my head in a half nod, and
with a shy smile, exited the building.

Nathan

“George,” I murmured, watching her through
the lobby windows as she hailed a cab.  Her long, dark hair flowed behind her,
caught in a breeze, and I admired the curve of her back as she raised her hand.

“Yes, Mr. Preston?” The security officer
replied.

“Who is the woman that had an interview
today, with Isaac?” I questioned.  I continued watching as she climbed into a
cab and it pulled away.  I couldn’t explain why the lobby seemed suddenly
darker.  And I, more alone.  I turned to George, waiting expectantly as he
queried the log book in front of him.

 “Sir, that was Reagan Andrews,” George
answered.

I gave a curt nod of thanks and headed back
to the elevators, and to my original destination.  My fearless father was on
one of his warpaths, and I needed to get some files for review before
briefing.  As I rode the elevator, I took out my Blackberry and dialed HR.  

“Marie,” I said, without preamble.  “Nathan
Preston.  I need any information you have on Reagan Andrews, immediately.”  I
scrolled through my contacts and quickly dialed another number, refusing to
think about what I was doing.  “Isaac.  We need to talk.  I’m heading up to my
office; meet me there in ten.”

Reagan Andrews . . . who are you?

Reagan

I was ten years old before I realized
something wasn’t quite right with my mom, and that there was no way she had
that many ‘brothers’.  It was Charlie who finally enlightened my young mind. 
Mom was a crack whore who spread her legs for anyone willing to climb between
them, as long as they paid to feed her habit.  His words, not mine.  At ten, I
had a hard time reconciling the woman who loved to dress up, laugh and dance
with me in the living room as someone who was paid for sex—something my young
mind was still a little fuzzy about.  A prostitute.  .  .a whore.  Again, Charles’s
words, not mine.

 It couldn’t be true, not really, but what
other explanation was there for the parade of men that consistently darkened
our door?  Or for the times my mom would stop dancing to just sit in the middle
of the floor, staring off at some unseen thing in the distance, her lips moving
silently as if in prayer, or she was talking to herself.  Why didn’t she do all
the normal mom things, like clean our house, fix dinner, or help with our homework? 
I was getting older, and Charlie promised none of these men would ever have an
opportunity to turn their attention my way.  He wouldn’t let them.  But then,
my brother left town the following year and was never seen again.  Empty
promises.

I was finishing up spaghetti when Brooke came
in from work.  “Hey, something smells delicious!  Have you heard anything yet?”
She asked as she took off her shoes and hung up her purse by the front door. 

“It’s spaghetti.  I figured I would cook
tonight.  And I won’t hear for a few weeks, remember?” I told her as I set out
plates on the table.

“Girl, I don’t know how you remain so calm. 
I am dying . . . just
dying
!  You will get the job.  I know it.”

I said nothing as I turned off the stove.  I
wish I had half of her confidence. 

“I mean seriously.  Can you imagine working
in the same building?  We could do lunch and I could introduce you to all the
hot guys, speaking of which. . .”

Brooke’s chatter faded at the mention of ‘hot
guys’.  My face flushed at the thought of the one hot guy I had met today, but
hadn’t told her about.  I had no idea who he was.  Employee?  Client?  Or like
me, a hopeful candidate?  I didn’t even know if I would ever see him again, but
if Brooke could find him and make introductions, and then I would happily pour
her coffee and pick up her dry cleaning for the rest of my life. 
A bit
much, don’t you think? 
I shook my head at myself.

“How was Gabby’s website, was it as bad as
Paul made it sound?” Brooke’s question broke into my reverie.  

I blinked, and then began dishing out our
plates.  “Worse, but I’ll get it back up and running for her.  At least the
basics, anyway.”

Brooke closed her eyes in appreciation after
taking her first bite.  “God, girl . . . this is fantastic!  I’ve landed a
roomie who can cook; score for me!  I am lucky if I don’t burn my toast.”

I smiled. “Helen’s a great cook.  I may have
picked up a few things here and there,” I teased. 

                “Well, thank God for Helen!  Did she make it
back okay?”  Brooke asked between bites.

“She did; she texted me this afternoon,” I finished
my wine and leaned back in my chair.  I was antsy, but couldn’t explain why.  I
knew I had at least two weeks before I would hear anything about the job, and
that I should continue the hunt, but I didn’t want to.  I wanted to work at
Elite Design.  It was going to be a very long two weeks.

Brooke began picking up the plates. “You
cooked, I’ll clean.  And by that I mean I will wash every dish by hand if
you’ll just agree to be the cook of this household from here on out, ” she
dead-panned. 

I held up two fingers in oath and made the
silent promise.  Cooking was easy, and something I enjoyed.  And, until I found
steady income, was something I needed to do a lot more of.  Just then, I heard
my cell phone ring.  “That’s probably Helen checking on me.”

I went to the living room and picked my phone
up from the ottoman.  Not Helen; it was a number I didn’t recognize.  “Hello,”
I answered.

“Hello, Miss Andrews?” the male voice asked. 
I recognized that deep voice and my stomach tightened.   “This is Isaac Reynolds.  
I’m sorry to be calling you so late, but I wanted to catch you before my flight
tomorrow morning.” Isaac said.

“Yeah, um . . . no, it’s fine.”  I walked
back into the kitchen and
pointed to the phone. 
Isaac,
I
mouthed.  Brooke’s eyes widened and she began jumping up and down.  I ignored
her as I turned to stare out the window.  “Mr. Reynolds, it’s okay.  Thank you
for calling,” I continued.

“I would like to formally offer you a
position on my team.  Can you come in tomorrow at eight am to fill out some
paper work for HR?  I’ll be out of the country for several weeks, but my
assistant will show you around and get you acclimated with everyone while I’m
gone,” Isaac explained. 

I was stunned.  “Seriously?  I got the job?”  Brooke
threw me an air high-five, and pumped her fist in the air.   

“Yes.  Turns out our other applicants weren’t
as qualified and I really need to get this position filled, sooner rather than
later.  I take it you are still interested?” Isaac asked.

“Of course.”  Still interested?  Hell, yes I
was still interested!  Brooke appeared at my side, waving her hands in my face
and leaning in, attempting to hear the conversation.  I waved her off and
stepped closer to the window.  My heart was pounding.  Seriously, what happened
to “I won’t know for a few more weeks?” 

“I can be there at eight, no problem,” I
choked out.

“Great.  Now, you won’t officially start
until Wednesday; HR’s got to finalize the paperwork still.  But like I said,
they’ll show you around a bit tomorrow and get you settled in. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you so much,” I gushed as I hung up.

“I told you!” Brooke was clearly beside
herself.

I was a little dazed.  Things were moving
very fast; was it really just last week that I had picked myself up and
relocated?  And now here I was with this lucrative job offer; not just any job,
but one that I wanted . . . really, truly wanted.  It was a bit much to take
in.  “This is weird, right?  I mean, I thought he had other applicants.  And he
said it would be a few weeks.  Isn’t that weird?”

“Honey, let’s not overthink things, k? 
Obviously you wowed the pants of him, as I knew you would.  Besides, I told
you; men cannot resist that southern belle charm.”   Brooke linked her arm in
mine and pulled me toward my room.  “Now, what are you going to wear for your
first big day?”

“Well, technically that is not until
Wednesday—you’re right.  I need to find something to wear.”  I flung myself
down on the bed and watched as Brooke began rifling through my closet. 

“I’ll have to take you to my favorite resale
shop; it’s where I get all my stuff at.  Love it!  We could get you entirely
new Wall-Street-worthy wardrobe dirt cheap.  Hey, what about this?  I love the
vintage look.”

I looked over and found Brooke holding up a
black and yellow dress.  My breath caught as I rushed over and took the
hanger.  “No, not that.  I can’t; it’s not mine.”  I shoved the dress into the
back of the closet, ignoring the confused looked on Brooke’s face.

“Not yours?  Then why—“

“Look, it’s no big deal.  I just can’t wear
it.  Here, what about this?”  I held up a pale pink silk blouse, signaling my
refusal to discuss it further.  The last thing I needed now was a heart to
heart about my crack addict mom. 

Brooke stared at me a moment longer, then
seemed to acknowledge my desire to change the subject.  She held up the blouse,
with a smile.  “Got any grey pants?”

Nathan

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, then glanced
back down at the reports I was reviewing.  I had been at the office since five
am, and now, at seven-thirty, I was getting antsy.  I gave up and tossed the
reports aside and leaned back in my chair. 

I knew I had made a bold move yesterday. 
Isaac had not been pleased with my instruction initially, but it had not taken
much to persuade him to my way of thinking.  Miss Andrews was fully, if not
over-qualified for the job.  So really, at the end of the day, his hiring her
would be in the best interest of this organization, and isn’t that what it was
really all about?  He had wanted to continue the pretense of at least
completing the remaining interviews, but what would be the point?  It would be
insensitive to provide continued false hope to these other candidates, and I
considered it our duty to let them know now so they could take this time to
seek employment elsewhere.  Like I said, it hadn’t taken much. 

Ah, Miss Reagan Andrews.  I had been taken
with her as soon as the elevator doors had opened, and there she stood.  I
hated to sound this ridiculous, even to myself, but it was as if she had taken
my breath away.  Literally.  She was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t even that
that had first captured my attention.  She looked. . . .Haunted, alone.  Her
fragility, her beauty. ..It called to me.  It was apparent the moment she spoke
that she was not from this area; she obviously didn’t know me from Adam and
therefore hadn’t been trying to secure a marriage proposal mere minutes after
meeting me.  She was different; unique.  And I’d be lying to myself if I said I
wasn’t attracted to her.  That went without saying.  And a vast knowledge of
women allowed me to know she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t felt the same
attraction. 

Look, it wasn’t like I was conceited.  Nor
would I consider myself a man-whore either, although a few of my exes would adamantly
disagree.  But female companionship came easily to me; it always had.  My face
alone ensured I never had to spend a Saturday night alone if I didn’t want to,
and my last name and father’s money didn’t hurt either. 

This was one of the reasons Miss Andrews
appealed to me.  She appeared completely oblivious to who I was, my last name
and my money.  It was refreshing.

Not the face, though.  No, definitely not
oblivious to the face.  I was sure of that.  

I had instructed George to let me know the minute
she arrived this morning.  A bit of a stalker move, but there were perks to
being the boss’s son.   My phone lit up. 

“Mr. Preston, I just showed Miss Andrews into
the HR office” George advised. 

“Thanks, George,” I replied, and then hung
up.  I sighed, and resumed my relaxed position in my chair as I contemplated my
next move.

Reagan

“Be sure to stop by security tomorrow
morning.  George will have your badge waiting for you.  That will get you
anywhere in the building, with the exception of the thirteenth floor.  We are
on a bi-weekly payday system; checks are issued every other Friday.  You will
be eligible for insurance benefits in ninety days, and will be issued a company
laptop and Blackberry hopefully by the end of the week.  I think that covers
everything.” Heather, the perky HR representative, smiled up at me.  “Any
questions?”

I was a bit overwhelmed.  I had arrived
promptly at 7:45 this morning, and had been filling out tax forms,  
confidentiality statements and security access agreements since.  I had even
been subjected to a short employee orientation film that detailed Elite’s
history.  I decided five minutes in that it wasn’t designed so much as to
provide pertinent information for new hires than it was to highlight the vast
and colorful career of owner and CEO, Roger Preston, and took the time to text
Helen and give her an update.  Heather had then taken me to get my picture
taken for my badge, which I hoped turned out better than my last driver’s
license one.  Especially since I apparently had to wear it clipped to my shirt
at all times. “No I’m good thank you,” I finally said.

“Great.  Let’s get you upstairs, then. 
Bailey Cooper will show you around; he’s Mr. Reynolds assistant. 
Congratulations, Miss Andrews, this is a great company to work for.” Heather
led the way to the elevators and I pressed the button for the eighth floor. 
This is it.  No turning back.  I squelched my nerves and pasted a smile on my
face as I stepped from the elevator.

Bailey Cooper was a young, energetic fireball. 
Literally.  With shaggy, copper red hair and freckles, and wire rimmed glasses
that I was sure were for vanity reasons only, he radiated confidence with a
smile that seemed to light his entire face.  He immediately put me at ease. 

“Miss Andrews, welcome to my humble abode,”
he quipped as he shook my hand.

“Thank you.  Please, call me Reagan,” I
replied. 

“Of course!  And by all means, call me
Bailey, or B, as many of the miscreants up here are inclined to do.  My father
was Mr. Cooper, and honey?  I am nothing like my father.” Bailey grinned.  “So
I know you don’t start officially until tomorrow, which means I can’t
technically give you any work.  But I did get you set up with an office.”
Bailey started walking and I followed.

My office was located on an outer wall, not
too far from his, Bailey explained, and I was glad to see had a large window
overlooking the street below.  It wasn’t large, and the cherry wood desk took
up much of the floor space, but it was mine.  My first real office.  I smiled
as I mentally pictured making it my own; a few pictures of Helen on the desk,
maybe a plant or two.  Until I remembered no plant had ever survived under my
care.  Okay, so maybe just some pictures. 

Bailey’s voice broke into my thoughts.  “IT
should have your email account set up by tomorrow morning, although our team
communicates a lot via instant messaging and text.  Come on, I’ll take you to
Grand Central.” 

Grand Central turned out to be the area in
the center of the department that housed a large conference table.  The area
was open on three sides, and framed by three large TV screens mounted on the
only wall space available.  “This is where the team meets at least once a week;
sometimes more if Isaac’s feeling overeager.”  He checked his watch.  “Matter
of fact, we have a meeting in a few, which gives me the opportunity to
introduce you to the rest of the team.  There are seventeen of us at this
location.”

“This location?  There is more than one?” I
questioned.  I was surprised this hadn’t been mentioned in my discussions with
HR, or in the “Roger-Preston-is-King” video I had been shown.  Then again, I
had kinda zoned out on that one so perhaps it had. 

“Oh yes.  We have an office in Boston, two in
Cali, and a location in Europe just opened last year,” Bailey advised.

I stood with my mouth open.  “I didn’t
realize that.  Wow!” I was impressed.

“Yes, Elite is everything but small,” Bailey
winked at me with a laugh. 

We were interrupted during his high praise of
the coffee cart that came around every two hours, and carried the most
delectable strawberry scones, by the arrival of the first few members of the
team.  Bailey indicated I should sit to his left and I fidgeted nervously in my
seat as I watched the team slowly assemble for their morning meeting.  Curious
glances were cast my way, but no one asked who I was, and Bailey didn’t offer
the information.  I got the impression by the slight smile on his face that he
enjoyed their curiosity. 

“Good morning, people,” Bailey began, calling
the meeting to order.  He was immediately all business.  “As you know, Isaac is
away for at least the next three weeks.  And as you also know, he did leave
detailed instructions for each of you in your email.”  This was met with good
natured groaning and laughter from several of the team.  “Yeah, yeah, I get
it.  He’s gone, but I’m not.  So any questions about your instructions see me
and I’ll get them answered.  Mark, I have your flight plans for Alaska and your
itinerary.  The IT department there will meet you on site so you can get
started.” Bailey directed his attention to a dark-haired guy sitting across
from us, furiously typing notes on his iPad.  Apparently this was Mark.  “Those
of you in the meeting on Friday, be prepared.  Mr. Preston will be there and if
we make Isaac look bad, heads will roll.”  He laughed, but I didn’t think he
was joking.  “Danielle, make sure the power point is accurate and up to date.”

“Okay, guys.  Any questions?  No?  Well,
since I can tell by your greedy faces that you’re dying to know who this beauty
is sitting to my left, without further ado I present to you the newest member
of our team:  Miss Reagan Andrews.” My cheeks flamed. 

Beauty?  As if I didn’t feel awkward enough. 
Bailey grinned widely at me.  I glanced around the table as Bailey instructed
them to do roundtable introductions.  There was no way I was remembering the
seventeen names and job functions that were rattled off to me, but I smiled at
each person as they gave their information.  Maybe Bailey would give me a cheat
sheet. 

“Reagan will be starting out on some new
projects that are coming up, under the direction of Isaac.  I’ll be calling
upon a few of you to show her the ropes over the next few days.  Don’t
embarrass me,” he joked. 

The meeting adjourned, teams members began
making their way back to their offices, while a few remained to welcome me to
the team.  Bailey turned to a blonde, sporting oversized framed glasses and
bright red lipstick.  “Reagan, this is Angela.  We’re done here until tomorrow,
but feel free to sit with her for an hour or so today.  She can show you what
she’s working on.  See you tomorrow.”  With that, he shook my hand, grabbed a
coffee from the passing cart and headed in the opposite direction, already on
his phone. 

“Does he ever stop?” I asked as I watched him
disappear into his office. 

Angela smiled at me.  “No.  Never stops,
never sleeps.  I’ve been known to get texts from B at three am.  True story,”
she laughed.  “Do you have some time to meet today, or do you need to go?”

I checked my phone.  It was just after noon,
and Brooke had made me promise to wait and eat lunch with her at one.  “Sure. 
That would be fine.”

By the time one o’clock rolled around, I was
mentally exhausted.  There was so much to learn! I hadn’t realized that Elite
Design was involved in so many different things.  I thanked Angela for her time
and headed downstairs to meet Brooke.  She didn’t appear to be in the lobby
when I exited the elevator so I walked to one of the sitting areas to wait for
her. 

“Hello again,” a male voice said from behind
me. 

I turned to see the man I had met on the
elevator yesterday standing behind me in all his delicious glory.  As
impossible as it sounded, he was even more gorgeous than I remembered.  He
looked relaxed in black dress pants and a white button up. 

“Hi,” I croaked out.  He had to work here,
right?  My heart leaped in glee at the thought.

“I take it the interview went well, then?” He
asked. 

I nodded.  “It did.  I officially start
tomorrow.” I said.

He smiled, tilting his head to the side, as
he continued to stare at me.  “Congratulations.   I’m sure you’ll fit in great
here.” 

“You say that like you know.  Do you work
here, too?” 
Please say yes
.

“I do,” he answered with a short nod of his
head.  “I’m Nathan.”  He held his hand out to shake mine.  His grip was strong,
his skin soft and warm.  And of course, goose bumps erupted across my arm, and
butterflies took flight in my stomach.  I would not mind these hands touching
me on a regular basis. 
Good God, Reagan.  Get a freaking grip!

I cleared my throat.  “Reagan.  My name is
Reagan Andrews.”  I reached up with my free hand to smooth my hair.  Nathan
still held my other one, his thumb tracing small circles on my wrist.  My knees
felt shaky. 

Seriously.  I could not understand the
attraction I felt for this man.  It wasn’t like me to become so flustered over
the opposite sex.  Sexual attraction was not foreign to me, and I’d had my
share of misguided bar hookups and late night booty calls. There had even been those
rare occasions where I’d made the effort to actually date someone.  But I
wasn’t the cuddly type.  Huge public displays of affection were not my thing,
and God forbid, I didn’t like to be held.  This was something I made clear up
front with anyone I became involved with.  I slept with you, and you didn’t
call me for three days?  Not a problem.  Just because I was attracted to
someone, didn’t mean I wanted them monopolizing all my time.  You would think I
was every man’s dream, but surprisingly there were guys who were put off by
this.   This may explain why I hadn’t really dated anyone in well over six
months. 

But this?  This intense attraction was
unchartered territory.  Apparently, my dry spell had gone on longer than I
cared to admit, and my body was letting me know enough was enough.

As if realizing what he was doing, he quickly
dropped my hand.  I smiled awkwardly at him. “Well, I am meeting a friend for
lunch.  It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.  I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 
He nodded with a smile, turned in the opposite direction and rounded the corner
out of sight.  I pressed a hand against my flaming cheeks and took a deep
breath as I heard Brooke call my name.