“I don’t know,” Jordan mumbled.
After one too many glasses of champagne, he could see the horniness all over her, and his cock was throbbing to get closer. But he wasn’t planning on touching her, at least not tonight. He was more concerned with how innocent she seemed, when he knew for a fact that women never were. Which caused him to wonder, what was she hiding?
“Tell me about you. Something. Anything. You must have done something rebellious at least once.” Brandon smiled. “Make me feel better about myself, please?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Jordan, you can’t be serious. Come on, you can’t tell me you have an unsoiled reputation. No running out to get tattoos or piercings as a teenager?”
Jordan stared at him for a few seconds, her expression impassive as she shook her head. “My dad passed away when I was thirteen, and my brother went to the same high school as me, so guys barely had the nerve to even come near me.”
She was being genuine. She was simply too good for him. “Sorry about your dad,” he said.
Giving him a faint smile, she nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.
He wanted to know more about her, and he had no fucking idea why. “We have stuff to do after this.”
She examined him. “What kind of stuff?”
“Not that kind of stuff, silly. I already told you I’m not touching you. I’m not that guy, at least not for the most part.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Oh, Jordan, don’t get your panties in a knot. I assure you, my needs are well taken care of.”
She scowled at first, but eventually agreed to go with him to do the “stuff” after some good, live-your-life-to-the-fullest persuasion tactics.
As they left the table, Brandon was relieved to see her walking smoothly. The champagne seemed to have only affected her in the form of giggles, which broke free every few seconds as they stood outside the restaurant, waiting for the valet to bring his car around.
When they’d settled into his car, he drove to the gas station and bought a few packages of toilet paper. Afterward, he brought her back to the mall to change cars, so they could take hers instead of his and have a lower profile. Again, he somehow persuaded her—either that or the champagne had relaxed her. Either way, he was enjoying this easier-to-convince version of her.
“I’m letting you drive my car; at least tell me where we’re going,” Jordan said.
“Shhh . . . It’s a surprise.” He put his finger to his lips. “Nice car, by the way. Very economical.”
“Hey,” Jordan pouted.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop getting your panties in a knot? It’s a compliment,” he said, glancing at her before turning his attention back to the road.
As they approached their destination, he shut the car off at the neighboring house, which darkened everything around them, except for the streetlights a few yards away.
“I don’t know if I can trust you, Brandon. I swear, if you get me arrested—”
“We met each other’s family, and they know you’re with me. Are we having trust issues again?” he joked.
“You’re not funny, and I’m telling your mother if you get me into trouble.”
“Since it’s dark in here and I need you to know what’s happening, I just rolled my eyes. Now, let’s focus, girl, because you need to be ready to teepee.” Brandon took one of the toilet paper rolls out of the plastic and dropped it in her lap.
“Are you kidding?” Jordan crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s no way. You’re on your own.”
“Oh, don’t be a chicken. Have some fun! I’m doing this for you. Call it me helping out your reputation. It’ll be fun, I promise. Besides, I know who lives here.”
It was Kelly’s house, but Jordan didn’t need to know that, because he didn’t care about Kelly or their past. Tonight was about Jordan. His vision adjusted to the dark, allowing him to see as she shook her head, then smiled.
“Fine. Let’s do it before I change my mind,” she said, getting out of the car.
Brandon grinned. He liked this. He liked her.
After accomplishing their teepee mission, they stood back and admired the unfurled toilet paper covering the trees and some plants. A light flickered on inside of the house.
“Shit! Let’s go,” Brandon whispered.
They darted back to the car, jumped in their seats, and drove off, laughing in unison at the sudden rush. This had triggered what he’d been trying to get to all night: the rebel in Jordan. He’d known it was in there somewhere.
After a forty-five-minute drive north to Jordan’s place, Brandon walked with her to an upstairs apartment. She sighed as she reached the top of the stairs. “I can’t believe I did that tonight. It felt good in a bad way. I should be ashamed, but it made me happy.”
Brandon laughed. “Let’s think of it this way: it’s easily removable unless it gets wet.” Though he didn’t want the night to end, he added, “I guess I should call a cab.”
“But I want to do more. Should we end the night so soon?” Jordan asked, eyes pleading.
“We shouldn’t. If you’re up for it, we could get a drink—maybe just a soda since you’re apparently a lightweight. Do they have dive bars around here?”
“Yes! I’ve seen one a few blocks away, and I may be a lightweight, but as you can see, I’m still walking. Gosh, I haven’t been to a dive bar since college.”
“Really, what have you been doing with your life?” Brandon laughed.
“Exactly! Starting tonight, that’s changing. I’m no longer the cautious girl, afraid of a little fun. I’m free to—” She threw her hands up. “Actually, can I change my shoes first? And then I’m free!” She twirled around, her golden hair flowing over her shoulders.
Brandon nodded, then shook his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The urge to drag her into his arms and kiss her like she’d never been kissed was right in line with his cock’s reaction, making it nearly impossible to behave.
He walked with her into a sophisticated yet cozy apartment where a cream-colored sofa centered the living room space. His eyes followed Jordan as she kicked off her heels. His mind skewed to impropriety as she walked barefoot across the carpet toward the kitchen. And upon getting a semi in his pants, he realized everything in her apartment would lead back to sexy thoughts of her, even the scent of her lingering perfume.
He leaned against a wall near the kitchen’s entrance. “Why do you live in an apartment instead of a house or condo?”
“Because I’m a single, twenty-seven year old.” She smiled. “It’s crossed my mind that I need to buy a place soon. I just don’t know what I want. A condo would be less lonely, I think. Anyway, no more serious talk. Let’s ride this endless night into bliss.”
She waved a stainless-steel shaker at him. “Would you like a shot?”
Brandon grinned in pure awe of how sexy she was. “Really? That’s the road we’re heading down tonight? Who’s going to drive?”
She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Taxi at the end of the night? Go big or go home, right? And most nights I go home, so . . .”
Surprise washed over him at her complete change from the tense woman he’d picked up only a few hours ago. Scratching his chin, he admitted, “I suddenly feel like a bad influence.”
She walked to the fridge, removed an ice cube tray from the freezer, and popped a few cubes into the metal container. Afterward, she added sweet and sour, lime juice, and vodka to the mix.
“I wasn’t always so put together.”
His interest piqued. “Oh really? What was life like before you were put together?”
“I was a bartender in college.”
“What?” Brandon grinned, visualizing Jordan in little shorts behind a bar. It didn’t seem like something she’d do, and he knew why; at some point in the night, he’d placed her on a pedestal—something he hadn’t done since Hailey.
Ice clanked in the container as she shook it, and when she poured, green liquid flowed into the four shot glasses she’d lined up on the counter.
“I lasted for about two weeks, but I did it. With a smile on my face . . . most of the time.” She held out a shot glass.
He walked to the counter and accepted it. “That sounds a bit more accurate. I’d probably drink anything you gave me, but tell me you learned enough to make this shot drinkable?”
She blushed and picked up her own glass. “Guess you’ll find out.” Inhaling, she asked, “What should we toast to?”
“Good times and memories,” Brandon replied, clinking his glass to hers before swallowing the liquid that was practically juice. He could take a million of them and not feel a thing.
“To endless nights and freedom,” Jordan said, clinking her glass to his for the next round.
“Are you sure they’re shots? I may have to hire you to be my personal bartender from now on.”
She grabbed her purse. “Don’t be silly. You couldn’t afford me.”
“Baby, I can afford anything,” Brandon countered. Did she not know who he was?
“Except the things without a price tag.” Jordan winked, twisting the key in the lock to secure her apartment. “Now, are you ready to get your ass whooped in some pool and darts?”
“Oh, bring it on. I don’t usually play with amateurs, but I’ll make an exception tonight.” He headed down the stairs in front of her.
“And here I thought you were a gentleman.” Jordan chuckled.
“Well, I am, but I’m also the king of shit talking,” he said. “Also, I’m trying really hard to pretend I’m not terrified of you falling down these stairs. You might just be pretending you’re fine. I don’t know for sure that you are.”
She didn’t reply, just hurried to sit inside the car when he opened the door for her.
He threw his jacket in the back seat and unbuttoned a few more of his shirt buttons. He could feel her gaze on him. “What? It’s only fair I get comfortable, too.”
She’d been doing it all night, and each time it sent an all-access invitation to his throbbing member.
Patience.
Control.
You promised her, he reminded himself.
“Yes, of course,” came Jordan’s timid response. As they took off, a pop song came on the radio, and she proceeded to dance in her seat.
Brandon laughed. “Are you sure it was just bartending? There was no stage, or—”
“Shut up, not funny. Great job, though, you ruined the moment. I have a feeling that’s something you’re good at.”
She folded her arms across her chest and he cackled at her pout. “You get so upset. I don’t know why, but I fucking love it.”
Brandon sat toying with his pen in class. Two days later, he was incapable of keeping the unexpected fun night he’d had with Jordan out of his mind. She intrigued him and was fun to be around, even after their rocky start. And after their night had ended in the wee hours of Sunday morning, he still hadn’t been ready to part ways with her. It was so fucking strange for him, he was beginning to question whether he was still armored. He felt her in ways he hadn’t felt a woman in a long time.
Jordan’s honey eyes and dimples came to mind, and the thought made him smile. She was so excited about staining her reputation and had an innocence he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he wanted to. And just like that, he was back to square one. Same as when he’d just laid eyes on her, he had to have her.
Saturday night hadn’t been a date, and if he did ask her out, he didn’t want her to reject him. If she got to know him better, it’s possible she would agree to a real date. They’d had fun together; that had to count for something.
“Don’t forget your homework, the discussion board, and read chapters twelve and thirteen,” the professor announced, ending the class. “I’ll see you next Monday.”
Brandon still wasn’t a big fan of school because he still sucked at it—among the reasons he’d joined the military right out of high school—but learning more about architecture would help him dominate another part of the real estate industry. Thankfully his mind thrived in business transactions, even if it didn’t on college papers and exams.
He drove to his father’s office at the airport, but once there, he paced back and forth. The secretary told him his father had been gone for two hours, and there wasn’t much to do. But his dad had a delegation problem, so Brandon stood in when asked, like he had been this afternoon; everything else he handled at his investment firm’s office.
Brandon looked at the mounted television in the office. His father kept recordings of all their company’s publicity. He picked up the remote and sat on the sofa, reminiscing about when everything had begun to fall into place. Clicking the remote, he skimmed through the videos until he found his favorite.
As he pushed play, the television broadcaster’s voice echoed in the office. “This is fascinating. No one saw this coming, but how could they? Sky Fast started with just a twenty-year-old man and his father. I spoke with Mr. Kuvat earlier today, and he said their success came from many long hours, mixed with a little luck and a lot of blessings . . .
“Although Daniel Kuvat’s years as an airline pilot did allow him to connect with potential investors for their startup, their client list has increased rapidly, which he believes has a lot to do with his son and partner, Brandon. Young Kuvat is quite the charmer. Have you seen him?” An enlarged picture of Brandon filled the screen. “Look at that smile, and ladies, in case you’re wondering, this twenty-seven-year-old billionaire is indeed single . . .”
Brandon paused to assess. Three years later, life was still good, but not complete. While he was thriving and growing professionally, his personal life felt stagnant. He couldn’t get past his feeling that women were ultimately all the same—or worse, that there was something that made them all the same to him. That he wasn’t worth true honesty and devotion . . .
“. . . With a reputation for great service, Sky Fast now owns one of the largest fleets of charter jet aircraft . . .”
Switching off the television, he decided to call Jordan. She at least kept him entertained and intrigued. They’d been texting, but it had been more than a day since he’d heard her voice, and he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Hello?” Jordan’s soft voice vibrated through the phone, and his cock stirred.
Damn, the effect she had on him.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, walking to the window.
Nibbling on his bottom lip, he looked through the blinds at his jet sitting on the runway. It was the best investment he’d ever made. Not only did it produce income, but it held many memories for him and his friends.
“Good. How about you?” she asked.
“Good. But back to your text, you said you were planning to party Friday night?”
“Yeah. I think I’ve been low key for long enough. Thanks again for reintroducing me to what I’ve been missing. You can take all the credit this time.”
“If anything, I should be thanking you for putting up with me,” Brandon said, taking a seat again on the sofa and raising his legs up on the coffee table.
“It’s okay. You actually weren’t so bad. How’s your mom?”
“She’s good. Already asking about you.”
Jordan chuckled. “Oh no, so is my mom. Parents. They worry too much.”
“Weird. It’s like we have more civilized conversations over the phone or through texting.”
Jordan laughed. “Maybe it’s because seeing your face makes me angry.”
“Yeah, that’s not it. You like my face.” Brandon smiled, then his eyebrows drew together. “Wait, you were joking, right?”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll find out when I see your face again.”
Jordan giggled, and Brandon imagined her dimpled cheeks.
“Is that your way of saying you want to see me again?” At the pause on the other end, he added, “Never mind then.”
“No, it’s not that. I have to go. I have another call.”
“Okay, but you should clear your schedule for this weekend,” Brandon said before hanging up.
Just then his father walked through the door and caught him smiling to himself. “What are you up to now?” Thirty-years-old, and his dad could still tell he was up to something by looking at him.
Brandon picked up the textbook he’d brought along to read. “Nothing.”
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” His father smirked. “You like her.”
Brandon’s grin widened. “What? Since when do you care about the girls I talk to?”
“You haven’t introduced us to anyone else in years, so that could be it.”
Brandon bit his lip. “She’s a friend. But yeah, I like her.”
Just walking among the busybodies in the mall was draining, but he couldn’t let that distract him. As soon as he walked into Jordan’s store, he went straight to the counter and asked for the manager.
“Is there something I could help you with?” the woman behind the counter asked, tucking her brown hair behind her ear. Bright pink lipstick lined her lips, oval glasses covered her eyes, and a white top with a name tag on the right side of her chest said, Charlie, Assistant Manager.
“No, thank you. I need to speak to Jordan,” Brandon said, leaving no room for further questions.
“Just a moment.” The phone slipped out of her hand when she picked it up. “What’s your name?”
“Brandon.”
He smiled as Jordan appeared in a gray, body-hugging pantsuit. She wore heels again with her hair pinned up in a tight bun. He breathed in before handing her a pink rose and an envelope. She smiled—not what he’d expected after their previous encounters. Maybe she’d decided to like his face after all.
“Flowers for me this time?” she asked, gazing up at him.
“I deserve that.”
He grew nervous as she smelled the full bud. He never got nervous around women, but it seemed to be a common issue when Jordan was present. He drew in a deeper breath. In his peripheral vision, he could see the assistant manager staring at them. Since they stood a couple feet away from the counter, he lowered his voice. “I liked hanging out with you, and I was hoping you would join me again this weekend.”
“Depends. What’s in the envelope?” she asked as she lifted the white flap. “Holy! Are you serious?”
He couldn’t tell if it was a good surprise or a bad one. It was an upfront gesture, but it was only for two days, nothing too crazy.
Join me this weekend in Miami
Yes, Yes, or Yes
“I know I haven’t known you that long, but it’s not a big deal,” he said quickly. “I do it all the time, and I would like you to join me, so you can do it with me. Uh, not do it with me—I didn’t mean, like, do it, do it.” Jordan’s eyes widened, and he inhaled. “I’m going to shut up now. I promise I won’t touch you. It’s just as friends.”
Why did you make that promise? He needed to touch her, not promise to torture himself to death with blue balls.
“Are you crazy? I’ve never just taken off. I can’t. I have responsibilities. I have a business to run and a fashion show this week! A trip like this takes weeks of planning. Did you already purchase the tickets? Please don’t tell me you did.”
She doesn’t know. Has she really been putting up with me all this time without knowing who I am? Fuck, I like her even more now. I probably shouldn’t take my jet, now that I have her like this. I want her to like me for me, not for all the other shit.
Brandon sighed. “Do you like me?” That was one way to find out, though it wouldn’t matter if she’d already Googled him.
“I don’t know! I haven’t been sitting around thinking about my feelings.”
“Fine. Do you like hanging out with me, then?” He cocked his head, daring her to deny him the truth.
But she actually took a moment to think about it. What was wrong with this woman? He was a catch. Fuck, wasn’t he?
“Yes, maybe.”
He could work with that. “So, come hang out with me.”
She shook her head, and Brandon ran his hand through his hair. “I thought this would be easier, that you’d even be excited.”
“Why would you think that? This is so irresponsible. It hasn’t even been a week since I met you. Brandon, this is crazy.”
He sighed. “It will be fun. Think of it as making up for the good times you’ve been missing. I’m trying to help a new friend out. Give me some credit.” He gave her an enchanting smile. “My friends are going to be there, and you’ll have your own room. It’ll be an unforgettable experience. Sounds like the perfect opportunity to celebrate after your fashion show,” he said, pointing to the sign displayed behind the counter.
“Was this some way you were planning to sweep me off my feet?”
She sounded sarcastic, but this was Jordan. If he’d made this offer to any of the girls on his past or present fuck list, they would already be on their knees in front of him.
“I’ll take the rose,” she said, putting the note back in the envelope and handing it over. “But I can’t accept this.”
“Keep it. I’ll have my secretary email you the tickets.”
“Brandon—”
“Bye, Jordan.” He gave her the sexiest smile he could muster and hurried out the door before she could say anything else. Because when all else failed, who could say no to his smile?