BRANDON'S WAY

Marisa grasped the door in one hand, looking up at him. Her emotions shown in her eyes, he could see the aching need in them. Then just as quickly it was gone and anger flickered in those pale green eyes. He went to speak and she slammed the door shut, hard and fast.

Brandon stood there stunned then furious. Grabbing the knob, he shoved the door open. Marisa spun around, her shock mirroring his own when she slammed the door in his face.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, taking the headpiece off and tossing it on the desk along with the phone clip.

He stormed into the room undeterred by her cutting glare. “Mom was worried about you and she -”

“Mom? You mean mom as in my mother?”

Brandon tossed the black Stetson he held onto the desk. “That’s exactly who I’m talking about.”

Marisa flew across the room to stand nose to nose with him, though forced to stretch and stand on her tiptoes to do so…still coming up short. “You lost the right to call her Mom ten years ago.”

“No, Marisa, you lost the right. You’re the one who left, remember?”

Her eyes widened at his words. “I left you, not my mom.”

“No, you ran,” he shot back at her. “You ran from all of us. Where were you when your mother needed your help?”

She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “I didn’t know.”

He smiled sardonically. “Well, now you do. Things are rough, Marisa. Are you going to run away instead of facing your troubles? Or, are you going to hide in here and bury yourself in your work so you won’t have to face the world?”

Her hazel eyes flashed daggers and it amazed him that he wanted to hurt her - hurt her as she did him. He wanted to make her angry to feed his own pain and anger. 

“I don’t know, maybe we should ask Connie Matthews about it,” she retorted.

Brandon knew that card was coming, but it was still a slap in the face. Her words dripped with accusation.

Marisa left the day before their wedding thinking he’d cheated on her with Connie, when he’d been faithful during their entire relationship. It hurt. It hurt like hell when she’d run and didn’t believe in him. Granted, the situation looked bad, very bad. But if she’d stayed she’d have seen it wasn’t what it appeared.

He clenched his teeth, fresh rage boiling as the memory surfaced, furious at the words she threw in his face. His hands balled at his sides as he looked her in the eye, speaking with tight restraint. “I never slept with Connie and if you had given me a chance, given us a chance, you would have realized it.”

Marisa reared back, her face registering shock. “You actually expect me to buy that story. You were in bed together, in her arms, both of you in nothing but your underwear.”

Grabbing his hat and placing it on his head, he turned toward the door. Stopping in the doorway, Brandon looked back. “I don’t know what I expected, Marisa, but I thought you loved me enough to trust me and at least hear me out. But no, you ran. You’ve been running for ten years and I would have never thought that about you when we were together.” He paused looking down the hall toward the kitchen before returning his dark gaze back to her. “Your mom wants you to come eat lunch. She worries about you.”

Without another word he walked away, his footsteps fading until she heard the distinct sound of the porch door slamming shut. Leaning against the desk, Marisa fought against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She worked to control her breathing, her hand fisting over the sharp pain in her heart. The rhythm of her heart pounded hard beneath her clenched fist.

Brandon could still take her breath away.

His long black hair hung loose to the middle of his back. His cheekbones were high, sculpted, nose straight with slightly flaring nostrils, full sensuous lips, and his eyes were dark as onyx. They still managed to grab her, claim her…brand her as his.

His chest was broader, his body lean, hard and defined beneath the tight fitting, black t-shirt. His hips tapered down to long, muscular legs, the faded jeans molded to his shape perfectly. Her spirit ached for him, but his betrayal weighed heavier on her heart.

Looking up at the ceiling, she blinked rapidly. She was strong, independent. She didn’t need him or any man to make her happy, especially one who cheated on her. 

Pushing away from the desk, she walked toward the door. She was so enraged with Brandon and so on fire for him at the same time it made her even angrier. With that in mind, she walked out of the study toward the front of the house.

Her determined strides took her through the living room. Her mother jumped up from her sewing, smiling. “Hi hon -”

Marisa rushed past her and out the front door. Her feet stomped across the porch then she hurried across the drive toward the stables, where she found him cleaning out one of the stalls. With fists clenched and heart pounding, she walked up to him. He whirled around in surprise then she shoved his chest hard, with all her might.

He fell backwards into the pile of hay. His eyes flew up and clashed with hers. She pointed down at him. “Don’t ever act high and mighty to me, Brandon. Don’t think to tell me who, what, or how I should be or even used to be. You lost your say over my life, about anything pertaining to me long ago.”

He went to rise, but she shoved again, hard, knocking him back down in her angry tirade. His hand snaked out, wrapping around hers and dragged her to the pile of hay with him.

Marisa screamed in outrage. It was the only way to stifle the gasp of pleasure that tore through her body as his long frame covered hers, pinning her to the itchy straw. His hard body pushed into hers. She fought the urge to bring her legs around his so he fit against her throbbing juncture. Instead, she shoved against his chest to put distance between them, but he grabbed her hands and roughly pulled them above her head. 

“Get. Off. Me,” she managed to grit out.

“Are you going to calm down so I can let you up?” he asked through clenched teeth. They were perfectly white and even, stark against his dark skin, snapping together in his anger.

“I knew this was a mistake coming back.”

“Well, it’s about time you did come home. Your mom has needed you for a long time.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, what about you? Had he needed her at all? Had he missed her? But she didn’t speak, only stared up at him, letting herself fall into his dark gaze. For a moment she saw warmth in his eyes, desire. She went soft beneath him and she wanted his lips on hers. For him to somehow make the past disappear and love her again, but that was impossible. 

“Get off of me,” she said again, but softer this time, unable to shield the hint of sadness.

His sigh brushed at the softer side of her heart, but she ignored it. Slowly, he released her hands, and rose. Leaning down, he offered to help her stand, but she refused, slapping his hand away. “I don’t need your help.”

“What do you need, Marisa?” he asked, on a hint of sarcasm yet there was a gentleness in his tone, in his eyes.

She stopped from picking the hay off her clothes. What did she need? What? She had everything she could possibly want in life, a penthouse in New York City, a successful fiancé and her own successful career. So, what was missing?

She looked at Brandon who seemed to be waiting patiently for her answer. He leaned against the wooden rail of the stall, staring down at her. His whole posture was laid back, but the tension in his arms, the way the muscles would bunch, belied his emotion. Her eyes met his again and Marisa fought for strength. All she needed was the memory of that day, Brandon in his boxer’s and Connie in her pretty bra and panties…his look of bewilderment at being caught.

Marisa’s mouth tightened into a firm line and her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in a haughty gesture. “Nothing. I don’t need anything, especially from you.” She turned and walked away.

Marisa returns to the one place she’s made every effort to leave behind and comes face to face with the one person she’s been running from all this time…Brandon. They are both bitter and horns lock right away, but the desire raging between them will not be denied.

Brandon wants Marisa to come home for good, but Marisa has a fiancé’ back in New York and a successful career. She’s terrified to leave the only things she’s ever known and take a chance on the love she never really left behind. Marisa must face who she’s become, be the daughter she once was, and discover if she’s truly strong enough to give Brandon what he wants...Brandon’s Way.