Page 3 of In the Heir (Westerly Billionaire 1)
Brett wondered what else she did in the heat of the moment. He stepped away from her and fought his automatic response to her. Noticing the sad expression on Spencer’s face was enough to kill his boner. What the hell am I thinking?
He watched his brother lead Alisha out of his office for the second time and fought the urge to call her back. Shit.
Her words rang in his head: “What kind of monster are you?”
Apparently, the kind who wants to fuck my brother’s fiancée.
Brett let out the breath he’d been holding in without realizing it. He wasn’t an impulsive man when it came to women. He certainly wasn’t the type that would ever consider anyone who belonged to someone else.
Still, he couldn’t get the image of her charging up to him out of his head. There had been a fire in her eyes that he’d found exciting despite how clearly off-limits she was. He didn’t want to think about how kissable she’d looked with her cheeks flushed in anger or the bounce of her gorgeous breasts as she’d walked off in a huff.
He closed the door to his office, told Gina to hold his calls, and made himself a scotch on the rocks. Only after he’d downed the double shot did he allow himself to remember how good Alisha’s hand had felt in his. He inhaled and remembered the scent of her as she challenged him: sweet flowers and a kick of spice.
He hated how easily she’d made him want her.
Worse, there had been an answering hunger in her. He’d seen it in her eyes. That’s trouble I don’t need. I should put her out of my head, but I need to know exactly what type of woman she is.
So I can help Spencer.
Putting his glass down, he returned to his desk and called his secretary. “Gina, get me a full background check on Alisha Coventry.” He didn’t say more. He knew he didn’t have to. Gina was that good.
A few hours later, he was reading through a digital file on Alisha. Police reports about domestic abuse. Modest career. Long association with his family.
Does Spencer love her?
Why is she marrying Spencer? Does she see him as a meal ticket? I’m not an expert on love, but my gut tells me that woman is not in love. She couldn’t look at me the way she did and be serious about my brother.
Or maybe women are all the same.
Nothing would ever erase Brett’s memory of hiding behind a chair while his father and mother fought for the last time. The proud Dereck Westerly had been reduced to a pleading, tearful man, promising to do anything if his wife would stay. He said he’d forgive her infidelity. He would forgive her anything, if she would only stay. It was the only time Brett ever saw weakness in his father, and Brett’s love for his mother had withered that day. She’d dismissed his father and said she was leaving with the children. She claimed she needed to build a life away from him to be happy.
Happy?
What the fuck was that? Stephanie Westerly had deserted her marriage, broken up her family, to be happy. His father, on the other hand, had proved how life should be. Focused. Driven. Successful. Pursuing happiness had caused his youngest brother to believe he had to appease an old lady by marrying in haste. That will never be me. I don’t need anyone at my side.
Maintaining the financial security of the family. Ambition. Affluence. That was what mattered. Life wasn’t about being happy.
Chapter Two
Scrubbing her hands in the classroom sink, Alisha tried unsuccessfully to remove the orange paint from beneath one of her nails. What a week. By five thirty the atmosphere was peaceful. From the moment her first student arrived in the morning until the last one was handed off to a parent, the day flew by. There was always a shoe to tie, a nose to wipe, or a frustrated little one to guide toward success. Keeping twenty-five kindergarten students not only productive but also inspired was not easy, yet it was satisfying.
Alisha had known she wanted to be a teacher from as far back as she could remember, and early childhood was what she’d chosen to focus on. The little ones came in as babies and, if she did her job correctly, left as confident students. Every school year ended with a sigh of relief and a short period of mourning because each class found a way into her heart.
This year would be even more of a roller coaster since she and Spencer were getting married. Possibly very soon, if their conversation on the way home the night before was anything to go by. She’d originally expressed a preference to have the ceremony in a month when school let out for the summer, but after meeting Brett, she completely understood why Spencer would want to do it sooner. The whole pretense would be done faster, Spencer could get his money, and life would go back to normal.
Alisha turned off the water, dried her hands, and gathered what she needed to take home. What an arrogant asshole. No wonder his siblings want nothing to do with him.
She made a disgusted sound as she remembered how he’d spoken to Spencer. During the ride home she’d asked Spencer why he bothered to go see him.
Spencer had shrugged and said, “A part of me always hopes it’ll be different. It never is. He’s a clone of Dad.”
Alisha shuddered at that thought. If that was true, it wasn’t hard to see why Stephanie Westerly had left her husband. People thought money bought happiness, but Stephanie was proof it didn’t. She’d walked away from a life of luxury and leisure and had chosen to raise her children on her nurse’s salary. Her second husband, Mark, had shared her simple philosophy and they’d made their home a happy one.
Stephanie loved her children. And Mark had been the father none of them had ever had. He’d never been too busy to talk. He even attended every one of Alisha’s soccer games and sat with his stepchildren while they did their homework.
His illness, then death, eight years earlier had left a hole in their lives, but Alisha liked to think he lived on in all of them. Whenever Alisha was confused, she asked herself what Mark would have done.
He wouldn’t have told Brett off. He would have found something about him to like.
But I’m only human.
Sorry, Mark. It had to be said. As Alisha tossed her bags into her blue Honda Civic, she admitted something to herself that she’d spent the prior night denying. It felt good, too.
Really good.
She paused before starting up her car as her thoughts wandered back to the man who caused her fitful night of sleep. She’d woken unable to remember the details of her dream but bothered that he appeared in it.
H
e was undeniably an attractive man. Tall and dark-haired, with incredible blue eyes. Add wealth into the mix and Alisha doubted many women turned him down. That wasn’t what had stuck with Alisha, though.
No, it was his presence. Male confidence. Power. A hint of danger.
My type only in movies and books. In reality, a nice man is a more practical choice every time.
Her phone rang, interrupting her inner dialogue. She answered via her hands-free Bluetooth setup in the car. “Hello?”
“Are you just leaving now?” Rachelle asked.
“I had to clean up. We painted the papier-mâché covers for Mother’s Day books today.”
“The ones that are also picture frames? How did they come out?”
“Like something only mothers could love, but I get so many nice letters about them each year that I keep making them.”
“Are you still meeting me at the gym at seven?”
“Absolutely. I just need to run home, eat something, and change.”
“Yoga?”
Alisha groaned. Having a skinny best friend was sometimes a physical challenge. Rachelle loved to twist herself up into a variety of poses Alisha’s body didn’t fold into. Not that she was fat, but Alisha wasn’t delicately built, either. She could run a marathon—in theory. Some people were blessed with fast metabolisms. Alisha was either gaining or losing weight every day of her life. She did her best, though, to eat healthily and exercise often. Summer was approaching and although she would never feel comfortable in a bikini, she would at least be bathing-suit ready. “Sure. Maybe meditation will help.”
“Bad day?” Rachelle asked, instantly concerned. She was a first grade teacher, so she could empathize, and Alisha missed the days when they taught at the same school.
There was no way Alisha was going to admit to Rachelle that she was disappointed in herself for being attracted to Rachelle’s oldest brother. “Just a long one.”
