Page 15 of In the Heir (Westerly Billionaire 1)
Talk to you later, Spence
Later, Al
Brett held the door of Alisha’s home open, but Dr. Earl didn’t move to exit through it. He stood there, looking as if he wanted to say something. When he finally spoke, it was in a tone that sounded more fatherly than professional. “I’ve known your family a long time, Brett. Most of my career, in fact.”
“That’s why I knew I could call you about this.”
“Who is she engaged to?”
Brett flexed his shoulders. “A man she doesn’t love.”
The doctor put a hand on Brett’s arm. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He studied Brett’s face for a moment. “Then you’d better do something about that. I hate to advise on so little information, but I can tell by the way you look at her that you’ll be one miserable son of a bitch if you let her get away.”
Brett closed the door after the doctor left and leaned against it. As usual, Dr. Earl was spot-on with his diagnosis. After pushing off the door, Brett paced Alisha’s small living room. The truth about Spencer and Alisha’s engagement was a game changer.
All Spencer wants is his inheritance.
Alisha wants to help the family who was kind to her during her troubled childhood.
No fucking way does this end with the two of them getting married.
As he headed back to Alisha, he heard the door of her bedroom close, followed by the sound of the shower turning on. It was impossible not to imagine how she would look, naked and luscious beneath the spray. That’s all it took for his body to become fully excited. He groaned, walked back to the living room, and read e-mails on his phone in an attempt to distract himself.
Eventually it worked. He calmed, lost track of the time, and only noticed that the sun had set when he looked up and the room was dark. Alisha’s room was silent again. Brett stood and stretched.
Most likely she’d fallen asleep after her shower, but he couldn’t be sure. How could he leave without knowing if she was safe in her bed or had collapsed in her shower? He opened her bedroom door and called her name.
No answer.
He stepped inside the dark room. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the outline of her on her bed, cuddled beneath her comforter. He stepped closer and marveled at her natural beauty. With no makeup and hair still damp from the shower, she effortlessly took his breath away.
He told himself to leave, but instead he sat on the edge of her bed and laid a hand across her forehead. It was finally cool to the touch.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Brett?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for staying.”
The simplicity of her gratitude moved him. He wanted to tell her there wasn’t a limit to what he would do for her, but neither of them was ready for such declarations. He touched her hair. “It’s still wet,” he said in gentle reprimand.
Her eyes met his.
If only she wasn’t sick.
If only he wasn’t Spencer’s brother.
Despite the circumstances, their attraction for each other was present, a slow steady beat in the background. “I meant to dry it, but I was tired. I thought I could lay down for a minute.”
He stood, turned on her bedroom lamp, walked to the bathroom, and returned with her hair dryer. After plugging it into the outlet she had by her bed, he said, “Sit up and turn around.”
“You are not blow-drying my hair.”
Another man might have accepted that answer, but in the time it had taken to retrieve her hair dryer, he’d indulged in a full fantasy of how much he’d enjoy running his hands through her hair. “Sit up.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Your tone of voice alone makes me want to say no.”
His heart thudded in his chest. “Funny, the way you look at me makes me want to hear you say yes.”
Suddenly, she was all eyes. She sat up and pulled her knees protectively to her chest. “You should go.”
He placed the hair dryer on the bedside table. “Don’t marry Spencer. I understand why you want to. You think it’s the only way to help him. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why I did.”
He sat on the bed beside her. “I do.” He picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth, and gently kissed the inside of her wrist. Her pulse beat wildly against his lips. “It’s this.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I’ve already decided I can’t go through with the wedding, but I can’t do this, either.” She removed her hand from his. “Spencer would never forgive me. He’d think I chose you over him. He’s been in competition with you his whole life. I couldn’t do that to him.”
“What about what you want?” he growled softly.
She went back to hugging her legs. “You asked me once if I loved Spencer and I said yes. I wasn’t lying. I do love him . . . like a brother. His happiness is important to me, just as it should be to you. We can’t do this. I won’t do this. I’m sorry.”
His pride kicked in and he stood. “I hope he is as loyal to you as you are to him. We’ll find out as soon as you tell him no.” He hated the uncertainty his words brought to her eyes. He wanted to crawl into the bed and ask her to forgive him, but that wasn’t yet an option. Before walking out of her bedroom, he paused. What kind of an ass hurts a woman like her? She has more decency in her pinkie than I’ve ever had. “Do you need anything before I go?”
She shook her head and looked away.
Brett told himself to leave but couldn’t. He thought about the first time he met her and how she had stayed true to his initial impression of her. Money couldn’t buy her. Desire came second to her principles. He hadn’t thought people like her existed.
She was the kind of woman Brett would want to marry, if he believed in marriage. And what do I do? I insult her. I try to pay her off. Then, to top it all off, all I can think about is sleeping with her, regardless of how my brother feels or how sick she is.
She was a decent person, and he didn’t know how to walk away from how she made him feel. It was more than a physical attraction. He felt good when he was with her—hopeful. At a time in his life when he wasn’t sure what he believed in anymore, he believed in her.
She met his eyes again. “Thank you, Brett. For staying with me when I was sick. No one has ever done that.”
Brett’s generosity had never extended beyond his family, but he would have spent a week at her bedside if she needed him to. He nodded once in acknowledgment of her comment and left. As a man, as well as a child, he was used to getting what he wanted. He’d known how to win in almost every situation he’d ever been put in.
Except this one.
Every problem had a solution.
With determination, every obstacle fell away.
There was a way to have Alisha without hurting Spencer.
And he would find it.
Chapter Eight
Alisha woke late after a fitful night of sleep that had nothing to do with the virus that had plagued her the day before. She trudged to the
bathroom and made a face at how her hair had dried into a wild mess. She looked pale, but felt a hundred times better. I don’t even want to think about how I must have looked yesterday.
Pink filled her cheeks as she remembered the kiss Brett had given her wrist. Despite feeling weak from her fever, her body had tingled from that brief touch. She’d wanted nothing more than to pull his face to hers and finally taste those strong lips of his.
Why couldn’t he be the asshole Spencer said he was? This would all be easy.
Brett didn’t hide that he was used to things going his way, but he didn’t push her. In fact, he was unexpectedly tender at times.
No one in her entire life had ever cared for her the way he did. Not her mother. Definitely not her father. Alisha went back through the boyfriends she’d had since high school. Not one had made her feel the way Brett did. Of course, he was the polar opposite of what she’d always thought she wanted in a man. She’d never wanted a powerful man in her life.
She hadn’t realized until then that she’d always chosen men she thought she could control. She’d even dated a man in college who had cried every time they watched sad movies together. At the time, Alisha had told herself his emotionalism meant he would be more sensitive to her needs, but that wasn’t the case. He’d seen every disagreement they had, every bump in their shared road, in terms of how it made him feel.
Brett listens to me, goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay.
And the way he looks at me—like I’m already his.
Oh yes.
He’s there for me even when I tell him he doesn’t have to be.
Stubborn about what he wants, and he wants me.
Why?
Because I stood up to him? Refused to be bought?
It can’t be because I told his grandmother off.
Or because I look good when I’m sick. How many times did he say I looked awful?
I hardly know him, but I feel like I do.
What’s this connection we have? It’s more than lust.
Although, that is certainly there.
She flushed.
I wish I could say yes to you, Brett, but I still have to find a way to say no to Spencer.
