Made to Love (4 page)

Nathan

I returned to my office, unsatisfied with my
run in with Reagan, and sporting an arousal that bordered on painful.  It had
been pure happenstance that I had been returning from a lunch meeting and had
seen her walking across the lobby.  She was just as beautiful as I had
remembered her to be.

I realized it was crazy, perhaps even rubbing
shoulders with insane, to become so enamored of a girl I had just met yesterday
and had spoken to only twice.  While I had no problem getting a woman—or women,
occasionally—to share my bed, I never showed more than mild interest unless a
woman took it upon herself to play hard to get.  This wasn’t often.  But even
then, the challenge soon wore off and so did my interest. 

But this girl. . . .She captivated me.  She
was different, and proposed a new challenge, something I was in sore need of as
of late. 

I shifted in my chair, thinking about her
“friend” she was meeting for lunch.  God, I hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend.  I had
not spotted a ring when I had checked yesterday, so I doubted she was married. 
Given the fact she was beautiful, the chances she had a boyfriend were high.  I
mentally waved my hand in dismissal.  Details.  They’d never stopped me before.

                I swiveled my chair around to stare out the
window.  I had a to-do list a mile long, but knew I would get nothing done with
this still raging hard on.  And I knew that wouldn’t go away unless I could
stop thinking about her.  Which didn’t appear to be happening anytime soon. 

My door swung open.  Only one person in this
entire corporation ever entered my office without being announced.  I felt my
body soften.  Nothing ruined a good mood like a visit from dear old Dad.

“Nathanial, we have a problem,” my father
announced without preamble.  “The Blackstone job isn’t finished yet.  We have
an end of the week deadline and I’m told Frank is three weeks out from being
completed.”

I slowly turned back around and faced my
father.  One look at his navy blue three piece Armani suit, his silver hair
perfectly styled and in place, his Rolex peeking from under his diamond cuffed
shirt, and you knew Roger Preston was a man of money.  He stood before my desk,
his dark eyes snapping.  I leaned back in my chair, amused that my father, a
man who prided himself on being strong and sophisticated was visibly upset over
something I had handled that very morning.  Apparently he hadn’t gotten the
memo.

“Good afternoon, Dad.  Glorious weather we’re
having, isn’t it?” I answered in response, fueling my father’s anger, as I knew
it would.

“Cut the crap, Nathaniel.  You hired that
amateur; I expect you to fix this and get me results that aren’t going to land
us in the poor house!” Roger barked as his face got red. 

“Being the number one architect in the nation
hardly counts as amateur,” I mused.  I was goading him, but couldn’t help
myself.  “Frank is right on schedule, actually.  I spoke to Jerry Blackstone
this morning, and he made a few last minute changes.  The soft opening will be
pushed back.  He knew this was a possibility going in, and that there would be
price to pay.  He’s paid it.”  I stood and moved to the mini bar at the far
side of my office and took out two glasses.  “The situation was handled hours
ago, and your financial future remains secure.  Relax.” I poured two fingers of
brandy and handed a glass to my father, who took it with a sigh.

“You could have told me this was handled as
soon as you had done so.  Your communication skills leave much to be desired. 
I thought when you came back from Boston you would be more on top of things.”
Roger finished his drink in two quick gulps and sat the glass hard on the
table. 

“Just because you are the last to know
doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of business.  And I don’t believe you have any
complaints with how I ran the Boston office.”  A familiar curl of anger furled
low in my stomach.  I had broken my back for this company; something my father
too often pretended ignorance of.  He glared at me, not wanting to admit I was
right.  We stood there in a silent standoff for a moment more before the
tension seemed to leave his shoulders and they relaxed. 

“Fine, I’m glad it’s taken care of.  And I
don’t care how big this Frank Hall character is, he works for my company. My
name and reputation is on the line.  There better not be any more setbacks, or
I’ll see to it he never works in this city again.”  He turned on his heel and
headed for the door.  “Oh, your mother is planning a party at the summer house
this weekend.  You’re expected to attend so don’t make plans.”

My mom and her parties.  I wondered if she
would even be aware of this one this time around.  “Ok, I’ll be there,” I
promised.  An idea formed in my mind.  “I might be bringing a date.  I’ll call
mom later to let her know.”

“Whatever.  Just make sure this fling of
yours is dressed respectable.  God knows, we don’t need a repeat of last time.”
With that, Roger stalked out of my office, slamming the door behind him.

Reagan

The next two days flew by in a blur.  My
badge photo turned hadn’t turned out half bad, although, as Bailey informed me,
the wearing it on your person at all times was something HR told everyone, but
very few actually complied.  Like a driver’s license, it was one of those ‘no
one has to actually see it, but you better have it when asked’ types of
things.  Bailey had also given me the low down on the inaccessible thirteenth
floor.  This was where Roger Preston’s offices were located.  In the six years
Bailey had been employed at Elite, the thirteenth floor still remained a
mystery. 

His praise of the coffee cart had been spot
on, and I found more pleasure that I should have in grabbing a mocha cappuccino
and yogurt every morning right outside my office.  Who knew a former barista
from Texas would end up getting coffee delivered practically to her door; a
door that happened to be to an office in one of the most prestigious firms in
New York?  It was all in the little things.

I was finding more familiarity with the
‘layout of the land’ (as Bailey called it), and was pretty sure I could pass a
who’s who quiz about the department.  I had shadowed several members of the team
over the last few days, and had even been asked to provide some input on a new
marketing campaign for a client.  Brooke bought me a plant for my office, which
she said required little maintenance, so hopefully I wouldn’t kill it. All in
all, I was settling in.

I hadn’t seen Nathan since Tuesday, although
not for lack of trying.  I wasn’t sure what department he worked in, but was
hesitant to ask around.  Somehow, I didn’t think asking if anyone knew the
delicious male specimen called Nathan would get me very far.  And really,
that’s all I had to go on.  My numerous trips to the lobby throughout the day
had yielded nothing, and there had been no more surprise encounters on the
elevator.  Which was just as well, I supposed.  I didn’t discount my luck in being
here, and wanted to make sure I proved I was worthy of it.  My mind turned to
mush when he was around, so it was probably best I not be distracted.   Hey, it
sounded good every time I repeated it to myself, after yet another failed
attempt to ‘run into him’ in the lobby. 

Today was Friday.  I had been asked to sit in
on the meeting with Roger Preston, and I was nervous.  I had yet to even catch
a glimpse of the man in the last two days.  Brooke had been up at the
butt-crack of dawn to finalize preparations, and to ensure things were just the
way Mr. Preston required them to be.  You would think the President himself was
going to be in that conference room.  It was more than a little daunting. 

I was sitting with Danielle and Bailey, in
what I would call a college lecture hall rather than a conference room, when I
saw Brooke enter.  She was followed by two Korean men, and lastly, Roger.  He
looked just as intimidating and scary as I’d imagined, and I had no idea how
Brooke had dealt with him for the last few years.  After giving a curt nod to
the group assembled, he dove right into the heart of things.

“Mr. Cooper, what do you have for us,” he
asked abruptly, motioning for Bailey to come up front.   Bailey stood, smoothed
down his suit jacket, as he and Danielle walked to the podium.  They spent the
next several minutes showing profits received from last month’s marketing
events and promotions, as well as revenue taken in from the online sales from
two hotels and a casino.  The numbers were astounding, and I felt my eyes widen
with each slide Danielle pulled up.  This was serious cash; I slid my gaze to
Roger Preston.  His face revealed nothing.  The man was hearing that his
company had just raked in millions in the last few months, and we could have
been discussing the weather for all the emotion he portrayed. 

“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” he commented once
Bailey and Danielle had completed their presentation and returned to their
seats.  “Now, who do you have working on the Johnson and Johnson account? 
Their site has been down since they signed three months ago.” Mr. Preston read
over a report, waiting for an answer.

“Mr. Preston, Mr. Reynolds has assigned
Reagan Andrews to that account. He’ll be working with her on this when he gets
back in a few weeks,” Bailey replied.

My head shot up as I caught Brooke look over
at me.

“I need something before then.  Get Isaac on
the phone immediately.  Who is this Reagan Andrews? Is she here?” Roger scanned
the room and I felt myself sink down a little in my chair.
God, this was
embarrassing. 
Brooke quietly left the room, I assumed to get Isaac on the
phone, and Bailey directed Mr. Preston’s attention to me with a wave of his
hand.  

“Mr. Preston, Miss Reagan Andrews,” he
introduced us, and I resisted the impulse to crawl under the table.  Roger
Preston shot me a look over the rims of his glasses, but wasn’t given the
opportunity to speak further as Brooke re-entered the room. 

“Mr. Preston, Mr. Reynolds is on line two”
she said, pressing a series of buttons on one of many remotes lining a side
table.  A television monitor lit up, and I saw Isaac fill the screen.

“Isaac, tell me where we are at with
J&J?” Roger asked, by way of greeting. 

“I just spoke with the head of their IT this
morning.  He’s ok with waiting until I finish up here.  We will be meeting to
show them outlines once I return,” Isaac answered.

“I have a touch base on this project
scheduled for Tuesday.  I need a rough draft of any changes by Monday.  Get
Miss Andrews on it,” Roger looked at me and I looked from him to Isaac.

“Will do, sir. Reagan, I’ll be in touch this
evening.  Bailey will provide you with the account files before you leave
today.” Isaac instructed. 

Bailey nodded in the affirmative, and the
call ended. 
Wait a minute. .what had just happened here?
 Less than
fifteen minutes into this meeting—my first with Roger Preston, the great and
powerful—and I had somehow been tasked with creating a rough draft for a client
I knew nothing about, to be presented to a man that semi-terrified me.  I
looked over to Brooke for support, but she was completely engrossed in taking
notes as Roger continued to bark out orders.  Without looking at me, Bailey
reached over and patted my hand. 

Welcome to Corporate America.

Nathan

I stared at Reagan as she took down some
notes following the call with Isaac.  I could tell by the rigid set of her
shoulders that she was nervous as hell, and my father, talking about her and
not to her, in that condescending tone of his wasn’t helping.  Damn the man,
and his need to always be in control!  

I had slipped quietly in back of the
conference room, hoping to remain unseen.  The last thing I needed was for my
father to notice my presence, and demand to know the cause.  While I was an
integral part of this organization, much to my father’s chagrin, I was not in
the habit of inserting myself into meetings unannounced and uninvited, and my
father knew it.  So having to smooth talk my way into a reason for being here
was something I was hoping to avoid. 

I wouldn’t even be here, had it not been for
George letting me know where she was.  I hadn’t seen Miss Andrews in three
days.  I had been called to the Boston office shortly after our last encounter
in the lobby and had only arrived back in town this morning.  I had lasted
twenty minutes in the building before I caved and went in search of George. 
For being a simple security guard, the man had the low down on all the hottest
happenings in the building.  He also had access to all employee calendars,
which meant he could easily tell where Reagan was throughout the day, which was
the only information I cared about.  My need to see her was becoming more than
a minor problem.

I had determined during my Boston getaway
that the only solution to this problem, as I saw it, was to get that girl into
my bed pronto, by whatever means necessary.  I knew that if I stripped away the
mystery that surrounded her, (and stripped her, literally, of course) she would
become just as commonplace as the countless others before her and I could go
back to meaningless hook ups from the occasional booty calls, who understood
what they were getting when they chose to share my bed. 

That’s all I needed.  To tap that and move
on. 

I was sure of it.  I refused to consider the
alternative.

But I had to tread lightly of course.  I
couldn’t just barge into her office and demand her presence at my condo, stark
naked, at nine p.m. sharp.  My father would have my head, not to mention the
lawsuit.  She was an employee and I was the boss’s son, after all. Sexual
harassment and all that.

So it was with surprised pleasure that I
discovered, from George, of course, that Miss Reagan Andrews was apparently
close to Dad’s assistant, Brooke Wade.  I’d met her a few times; and knew that
being in the position she was in, both figuratively and literally, it would be
easy enough to secure her invite to my mother’s party.  I knew this was my
ticket to ensure Reagan would be there as well. 

I continued to stare as Bailey Cooper reached
over and touched her hand.  My eyes narrowed as I watched, waiting to see if
there was any further contact or any kind of unspoken sentiment between them. 
I was pretty certain Mr. Cooper played for the other team, but I was leaving
nothing to chance.  I quickly left the room, and headed toward the lobby.

It was time George and I had another chat.