Stepbrother Reunion: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Read online

  When I asked him when that would be he told me "sometime in March."

  MARCH?! That was 6 months from now! I was not going to support him for another 6 months while he continued to rack up a credit card bill that I couldn't afford. Why March?!

  But he'd just shrugged me off and said that's when it was scheduled for and that if I didn't like it, I could leave. He wouldn't tell me about this project either. Just that it was something the group had been working on for awhile and that it was "very important."

  I waited at the private airstrip outside of town wondering what I was going to do.

  It was clear that Rob and I had long ago gone separate ways, but with all my worries about debts and finding a job, I hadn't noticed. I should have been looking for a studio apartment weeks ago.

  While I was searching apartment listings on my phone, I heard a deep voice booming from across the outdoor lot where I was waiting.

  "Leanna? Little Lele? HOLY SHIT!" I looked up just in time to have my face smashed against the hardest chest I've ever felt as strong arms wrapped around me, picking me up and twirling me around.

  I'd barely had time to focus on the man who was now crushing me against him in a massive bear hug, it was Tristan Powell. Founder of Outdoor Recreation Incorporated, world adventurer extraordinaire, my boss, and.... my stepbrother?

  I was gasping for air and trying to bat at his broad shoulders with my trapped hands, begging for him to put me down so I could breathe and make sense of what was happening.

  Once back on my feet, waiting for the world to stop spinning around me, I looked up into the tanned, smiling face with the clear blue eyes that sparkled down at me. His hair was a deep brown floppy mess that might have started out combed neatly back from his forehead but now hung in waves around a face that was lit up by his huge grin.

  I couldn't believe I hadn't recognized him in the photos that adorned the halls of the offices, but then none of them were close ups of his face. They were all action shots showing off what a badass our boss was. But sure enough, up close and in person, there was no denying that this man was the scrawny teenager I had known as "Michael" and had briefly called my brother.

  "Lele!" He beamed down at me from his 6'2" height as he held me at arm's length by the shoulders, "I can't believe the luck!" He wrapped me in his arms again for another enthusiastic hug. A lot of things were racing through my mind. I was still thinking about the apartment issue, I was desperately trying to recall everything I could remember from the 4 and half years that Michael-- err, Tristan, I guess-- had been my stepbrother, but every time he held me close all I could focus on was the smell of his cologne, the heat of his skin, the hardness of his chest against my cheek and the feeling of absolute safety being held in those strong arms.

  I felt myself starting to blush. It was so obvious that Tristan was thrilled to be reunited with his baby sister while I found myself wondering what he looked like naked.

  I mentally scolded myself. It was hard to think of him as my brother. He'd only lived with us a few years and I don't really remember it very clearly. I was still a little girl.

  Obviously Tristan felt differently about me but then, he was a few years old than me. He probably remembered me much better.

  He was still laughing and hugging me and jabbering excitedly when the pilot came to tell us the plane was ready. Michael-- I mean Tristan-- grabbed my bag in one hand and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders, holding me close against him on the way to the plane as though he was worried I might escape.

  Once we were situated in the plane and the pilot had the door shut and had started taxiing down the runway toward take off, Tristan turned to me and demanded that I catch him up on everything that had happened in the last 11 years since we'd last seen each other.

  I was sitting across from him and found myself staring at him harder than was probably appropriate. The boy from my memory was short and skinny with a long pony tail. He was always dirty and usually stealing my stuff. He had certainly grown up. And how.

  "Tristan? What happened to Michael?" It was probably the thing that I found most confusing.

  "Tristan is my first name, Lee, I just hated it when I was growing up. All the other kids teased me about it all the time so I went by Michael till I was...I dunno...17? 18? About the time I started adventuring. Turns out, girls think it's a sexy name." He gave me a little wink to go with the conspiratorial tone, "What about you? What have you been up to? How did you end up working for me and I didn't even know it?!"

  I explained college, my degree choice, my life's dream, my student loans and my need to get a job. It all came tumbling out so fast I was practically panting by the time I finished the story. Or maybe it was the sight of him, the smell of him, if only he didn't still think of me as his sister! I couldn't help but notice I'd left out all the parts about Rob.

  "What about a boyfriend? Husband? I don't see a ring?" He leaned forward and tapped my hand where it was resting on the top of my thigh.

  "Uhh," Damn! Figures he'd ask. Where was I going to start? "I guess not anymore." I smiled weakly.

  "Not anymore what? Like how?"

  I decided to lay it out as well as I understood it myself, "...so I guess we're not really a couple anymore. Now that I think about it, I don't really think we've been a couple for awhile now.

  "I was looking for apartments when you walked up."

  He smiled as he looked at me. His demeanor changed slightly. He sat back in his chair and studied me, more thoughtful with a little smirk on the corner of his lips. I wondered what he was thinking.

  "So you decided to become a conservationist?" His tone was more business like now, serious, "I'm surprised you haven't found work in your field whatwith the environment being so trendy right now."

  It sounded like he was making fun of me. Suddenly I stopped thinking about how hot he was, about how many women in the office swooned over him and what they'd give to be where I was at that moment. I wasn't sitting in a tiny plane with my long-lost step brother, or with a rich world adventurer mega hunk. I had the full attention of Tristan Powell-- sponsor of several polluting, earth-destroying events. Tristan Powell, who was the primary sponsor of the upcoming cross-continental race from Rio to Vegas. The inaugural race was scheduled to begin just after Carnival in February, leaving Rio de Janeiro and ending in Las Vegas a few weeks later. It was supposed to eclipse the Dakar Rally in length, difficulty, participation-- and press. Not to mention environmental impact.

  In my circles, a major concern was that the race would require navigation through the Darien Gap, a very sensitive ecological area.

  So far the Gap hadn't been developed. It served as a sort of "green belt" between North and South America. Most travelers crossing the gap had their vehicles transported via air or sea but there had been some people who had managed to cross the dense jungle, mostly in off road vehicles with support.

  A lot of environmentalists were trying to stop the upcoming rally for fear of the impact to this delicate area and its indigenous cultures.

  Here was my chance to bend Michael's ear-- I mean Tristan. Maybe I could use our past relationship, and his obvious enthusiasm for our reunion, to make a stronger impression on him than a bunch of angry letters from strangers had managed so far.

  "Michael-- I mean, um, Tristan," I straightened my posture, "Speaking of my interest in conservation, you know, ORI's sponsorship of the upcoming Rio-Vegas Rally is a concern of mine."

  Tristan raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? It is? Please explain your concerns." His tone was cautious but also hinted that he had heard it all before.

  I sighed and decided to drop the professional environmentalist attitude and try to just appeal to him on a personal level, "Well, you know all those motorcycles and cars and trucks and stuff have to go through the Darien Gap. I mean-- how are you planning on handling that? It's going to be an environmental nightmare. That kind of impact is going to take centuries to recover from, and from what I understand you're planning
on sponsoring this event on a yearly basis?

  "I get that you're all into all these out door sports and maybe you aren't too concerned with how they affect the planet, but you have to at least realize what kind of long term damage this event will have on the native people?

  "If nothing else, you should appreciate the affect the fallout will have on ORI's bottom line. It's going to end up being a press nightmare for you.

  "You can't let all those giant trucks go through the jungle!" I was getting kind of worked up about it now. It was time to shut up and breathe. I ended on an exasperated note and threw my hands up in the air, my face wrinkled in an expression of pleading desperation.

  Tristan looked at me thoughtfully for a long time before he replied.

  "That was certainly not the typical phraseology I deal with." His smile was polite, no where near the broad grin it had been when he first saw me. "And while I appreciate your passion for the subject, I have to wonder-- have you actually researched the proposed route and rules of the rally?"

  I looked down at my hands fiddling in my lap. I had to admit that I had not done much reading on the project beyond a few articles in my newsgroups and, of course, a lot of ranting from Rob's point of view.

  "OK then, Lee." Tristan's voice was patient but firm, "I am thrilled to find you after all these years." He gave me that big smile again, his eyes twinkling at me like he had unearthed a treasure. It made me feel special. "I don't have a lot of requirements of the people who work for my company. You don't have to approve of all the company's philosophies or support all the events we are involved in. But I do have some basic expectations that my team members educate themselves on those subjects before they take a side.

  "Before you lecture me on how I am handling my event, you should know how I intend to handle my event."

  I nodded my understanding as he looked at me sternly. "OK." I replied, "Please educate me. How do you intend to handle your event so as to address my-- and my colleagues-- concerns about the potentially disastrous environmental impact?" I hoped I sounded as sure of my position as he did of his.

  Everything about Tristan screamed self-assuredness. Despite his billionaire playboy casualness, with the tanned skin, the playfully unkempt hair, the chiseled features and muscled physique that had put him high on a lot of womens' "most wanted" lists, he spoke with confidence and authority in a way that indicated intelligence beyond his years. It was intimidating. The way he held me in his gaze while he basically told me I didn't know what I was talking about was insulting and at the same time, captivating.

  I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking. I wanted to hear his side. I wanted him to explain it to me. Preferably in whispered tones, very close to my ear, while his lips nuzzled my throat and his hands did some of their famous adventuring... over my body.

  I shook off the naughty thoughts that kept creeping into my head. This was not the time or place...or man.

  ***

  The winter retreat was a lot of fun, I learned how to choose the right size snow shoes to disperse my body weight so that I would float on top of the soft powder instead of sinking in up to my thighs. I learned why cross country skiing is considered such good exercise-- and why it would not become my preferred winter sport. I even learned how to operate a snowmobile. Fuel efficient 4-strokes that have lower emissions per passenger than most cars on city streets, and little electric models that I hadn't even known existed.

  Tristan-- I was getting used to calling him Tristan-- spent a lot of time with me, teaching me about the different products and sports and getting plenty of good laughs watching me fall on my butt in the deep snow before coming to my repeated rescue.

  I also learned a lot about Outdoor Recreation. My former stepbrother turned out to be quite conservation minded afterall. He believed it was important to find a healthy balance between environmental impact and maintaining accessibility for a wide array of controversial outdoor sports.

  He's a big proponent of responsible land (and water) use, insisting that it was important to focus on responsible land use rather than all out bans which would only lead us into technological laziness and prevent development of new ideas.

  As for the big rally-raid that was coming up in a few months, I learned a lot about that too. I learned how these types of events boost local economies. I learned how the entry fee for each class was going to be donated to projects along the route to help the areas the race would move through, and about the restrictions being imposed on the higher impact classes such as the so-called "trophy trucks."

  Tristan personally explained that the Darien Gap was of utmost concern to the project as well. He had ordered multiple environmental impact studies during the planning of the event-- which he'd been working on for quite awhile now.

  None of the contestants were allowed to navigate the Gap directly. Even though various people had attempted-- and even succeeded in some cases-- to cross the Gap through the jungle in the past, the Rio/Vegas Rally specifically forbade it. All vehicles would be ferried from Cartegena to Panama by the rally coordinators.

  Tristan had been working with some other sponsors to provide specialized ferries equipped with high-efficiency, clean diesel engines that would run on bio-diesel fuel. The boats were actually being donated to a local outfit that already provided ferry passage across the Gap, so even after the race they would be able to offer low-impact voyages for travelers. The donation would also boost local economy and help out some small family businesses.

  It was all very impressive.

  Of course, nothing is perfect and Tristan understood that. "Sure, uninventing the internal combustion engine would be the ideal solution," he shared with me one evening as we relaxed after a private dinner in his cabin, "but it's hardly realistic." He took a sip of wine, "Besides, look at all the good things internal combustion has done for us. We've been able to develop transportation methods that can carry goods to the farthest reaches of the world in a short time frame. We can deliver fresh fruits and vegetables from regions where they are in season to places where they aren't. The average person now has a reasonable ability to travel to see amazing places in the world.

  "Most of the people who cry the loudest about saving the planet are the ones who know the least about how it's being impacted." He narrowed his eyes at me, accusing but teasing. "For instance, you're ex-boyfriend. Rob, was it?"

  Over the last few days, we'd spent a lot of time together. I'd told him all about Rob, as well as pretty much everything else about myself, "He sounds pretty typical. He's busy calling me the Devil-- but does he even know anything about my company other than we sell snowmobiles?"

  I had to admit I didn't think he did. Up until a few days ago, I didn't even know there was such a thing as an electric snowmobile. I felt pretty stupid for developing my opinion before knowing more of the facts. That was exactly what I didn't respect about Rob.

  "Leanna." Tristan was giving me that look again, the one that made me go all gooey inside as his eyes bored into my soul and made me feel like he was reading my mind. "Do you remember when Dad and your mom were married? Do you remember us living together at all?"

  I nodded hesitantly, "Kinda. I remember your dad pretty well." I smiled, "Tyson kinda reminds me of your dad."

  Tristan smiled too, "Yeah. He does, doesn't he? But do you remember me? Us?"

  I furrowed my brow and set my wineglass on the little coffee table that sat in front of the sofa we were sitting on. I was sitting sideways, my back leaning against the padded armrest of the cowhide upholstery with my knees bent against the sofa back, my feet on the cushion. Tristan sat opposite me, also sideways, one long leg stretched out so his stockinged foot tickled my ankle, his other foot on the floor.

  I slowly shook my head from side to side, "Not really. I remember you, of course. I remember you as Michael. But I don't really remember spending much time together. Why?"

  Tristan moved forward, coming toward me. My heart began to flutter like a swarm of panicked mot
hs were trying to escape its confines suddenly. He placed his hands on my knees, his eyes locked on mine.

  Was I still breathing? I couldn't tell.

  "You don't remember your promise?" He smiled softly.

  I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I swallowed hard, my eyes unable to move from his stare, "No?"

  "You promised you would marry me." His smile could melt the polar ice caps. His voice was low and soft, it washed over me, his hands moving slowly from my knees over my thighs.

  He seemed to expect an answer, but I wasn't sure what the question was. "I did?" I giggled a little, not sure what he expected of me.

  "I know you were just a little girl." He gave me a lopsided grin, "But you were my first love, Lee. I thought we were going to grow up and live happily ever after and be together forever. I didn't care if our parents were married, it didn't matter to me. I always knew you were the perfect girl for me." His chin was resting lightly on my knees and his hands had slipped down to where the tops of my thighs were pressed against my abdomen.

  "I was so mad at Dad when he moved us out of state. I lost your email address and I couldn't find you online anywhere. You know I started hiking to get past how mad I was about losing you. It took a long time for me to get over being mad at our parents for breaking up and taking me away from you." His voice was a low whisper now, taking on a husky quality that sent hot, thick, waves tumbling through my body down to the core of my being. All I could feel was the heat where his hands were resting on my thighs, and the heat just a little farther down, where my body ached to feel his touch.

  I stammered a little. I felt like I needed to say something but I didn't know what. It seemed ridiculous to offer to marry him now. I'd only really known him for a week, but I was certainly willing to consider it for the future. If he would just move a little closer. Just let me taste the wine on his lips. Let me feel his breath against my cheek. Let me touch those soft waves of dark hair as they tumbled against my face.