Chapter Eight

Brandy

It was almost two years ago and yet I remembered it like it was yesterday.

Having just been stood up, I was looking to drown my sorrows in alcohol, but I found something far more delicious, far more intoxicating. There was something so broken about this man, something that was so pained, it made me want to kiss it and make it all better.

He kissed me, taking my lips captive, and I kissed him back with more desire than I'd felt in a long time, and I never wanted to stop.

I nearly closed my eyes and moaned just thinking about it. I didn't need to close my eyes, though, to remember the way it felt to have his lips on mine. The way he stirred things inside me.

He brushed his thumb over my lip and I was hot with desire. "Let's get out of here, Wyatt Ryder."

I wasn't sure where we were going or for how long, but I didn't care. In that moment I was sure I would've followed him anywhere.

He ended up taking me home, back to my place, a small apartment in Coral Gables that I shared with an old college friend. That was before either one of us got real, paying jobs. She was out, so it was just the two of us.

I had such fantasies the whole drive over, imagining what it would be like to be with this man, to have him fill me. I wanted every inch of him and I was sure he wanted me, too.

"Where do you keep the coffee?" he asked me instead when we got inside, setting out to make us a pot.

Coffee, I wondered, why? I was ready for a night of passion and he wanted to make coffee? Figuring it would eventually lead up to what I really wanted—to have him in my bed, I helped him make it, barely standing up on my own two feet so exhausted from the emotions of my day and the alcohol. It wasn't enough to make me drunk, but definitely sleepy, an effect drinking always had on me.

Sinking down on my couch, I slipped my shoes off and pulled my feet under me, hoping he'd come and sit close. He did. I reached out and wrapped my hands around his arm, pulling him closer. He smelt like he'd been in the woods, homey and masculine all at once. I pulled him closer and he brought his lips down on mine. The taste of whisky still lingered on his lips.

"Wyatt," I moaned as his hands worked my bra, praying he'd move faster, but he didn't. He took his time before he backed off, his hands falling down to his lap.

I stared into his eyes and saw a war raging within. It was like he was at odds with what he wanted do and what he felt he should do.

I tilted my head and closed my eyes. "I don't understand. What just happened?" If this had been any other man, I was pretty sure he would already be rolling a condom on, eager to get inside me.

Wyatt didn't make a move, though, just whispered, "Let's slow down."

I inhaled deeply, savoring his scent, holding onto the memory of his touch as he slid back more and reached for his coffee cup.

I quirked a brow and waited for him to change his mind, to realize this was crazy and that if that kiss was any indication of what tonight held, neither of us were going to be going slow.

Instead, he said, "It's getting late. I should be going."

"No!" I shouted, reaching forward as if I could stop him if I wanted to. "Please, stay with me. At least stay with me here on the couch." I wasn't sure what good it'd do, but I was hoping that in the morning, if he was still around, we could talk. There was so much I wanted to know about him, but it was so late and my eyes were suddenly too heavy for me to force them to stay open any longer.

He nodded. "I really should be going." He looked at me, his eyes intense before his expression grew softer. "Why don't you get some sleep?" he asked as he sat back and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me for the evening, having never felt so safe, so secure in my whole life, even with a perfect stranger so close by.

I woke up in the morning alone, to an empty couch in an empty apartment. And a note. Of course, there was a note.

I'm no good for you.

That was all it said. Five little words that left such a mark on my heart, forever changing my soul.

What made him think that was true, I wondered even to this very day.

"Dee," I heard Laurel calling my name loudly. I shook my head, hoping it rid me of the memories that came flooding back to me. "What gives?" she repeated. "Do you two know each other? This is Wyatt. He's a partner at the security firm Jorge called. This is Geoff, his associate," she said, turning to an imposing man standing to her side. "They're going to be working for me now."

Eyes wide, I nodded and swallowed hard. Everything in me told me to turn around and leave, to just get out of here and forget any of this ever happened. But this was my job and Laurel's safety was at risk so I didn't have much of a choice. I had to stay and face the past that was creeping into my present. "Yes, I know Wyatt, but that's not the point. Sorry. I didn't mean to cause such an interruption. You can catch me up later. Please, go on," I gestured to the men.

But even as I tried my hardest to look at everyone in the room, I couldn't seem to peel my eyes away from one man in particular, Wyatt, who held my attention captive. Something told me nothing good could come out of this, but it looked like I didn't have much of a say in the matter. I was never going drinking again, I mused.

He smiled, just barely, before returning, "It's no problem. I was actually going to step out." Turning to Laurel and Jorge, he went on, "Geoff will be here today. I'll be in touch with more details, as I said."

"Thank you," Laurel said, coming up to shake his hand before he slipped from her penthouse the way I'd come in.

No way. No way was he going to leave just like that, not again. Not like he did that morning, without a word. I couldn't let those doors slide closed. I just couldn't. So I lifted my arm and held back the doors. "Wait!" I announced. "I forgot something in my car," I said looking back at Laurel. "I'll be right back."

Wyatt had his gaze fixed on me as I stepped into the elevator with him. Just the way I remembered him, he was stoic, serious. The butterflies in my stomach were reawakened. It'd been a long time since they'd come around.

He didn't say anything, not that he had to, and I probably should've done a better job at hiding my reaction to seeing him, but I couldn't help myself. "I can't believe it's you," I said stupidly, as if we didn't already establish that.

"I must say, I never expected to see you, either," he confessed taking a step back.

As if we were connected, like two magnets, I stepped forward. Not by much, but enough to share space with him, even in the small confines of the elevator. There was something about this man that, even back at the bar all those months ago, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Then, like a knife to my gut, he asked, "Is this going to be a problem?"

Shocked, I swallowed hard, my attraction taking a backseat as I wondered how he could ask me that. "I can be professional."

"Good."

"Of course. I mean, duh, it's not like anything happened." Which was unfortunate, but that was a train of thought for another time. "Of course, it's fine. No problem here," I prattled on like a fool. "Is this going to be a problem for you?"

The corners of his mouth, that beautiful mouth of his, turned up. His eyes, the color of the ocean, turned dark and I wondered what he was thinking before he said, "Not at all."

"Good," I said, giving his comment right back to him. "Then we shouldn't have a problem here because I certainly am not bothered by seeing you or the prospect of working closely and seeing more of you and you're not at all bothered with doing the same, so splendid, amazing, really. We'll just coexist." We'll just coexist? I mentally groaned and wished I could slap my own forehead right now. Why couldn't I just leave it with that one simple word—good?

He cocked a brow and grinned slightly before clearing his throat. "We already established that."

I raised my hand up and gave him a thumbs up. What was wrong with me, I thought, this was ridiculous.

Wyatt was just a man.

He was just a very handsome man.

And I had a boyfriend.

I closed my eyes momentarily and waited for the elevator doors to open to the lobby. This was the last time I was going to put myself in this situation.

Never again.

From now on, Wyatt was to be nothing more than someone I worked with to solve a problem—Laurel's problem.