His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (15 page)

“Come on. Let’s get to work.” He pressed his lips to hers, branding her with a hard, unyielding kiss. Then he opened the door and stepped out of the car. He glanced up and down the street, his eyes watchful as he waited for Brynn to hop out.

When she exited, Brynn studied the neighboring buildings. Downtown had been in decline for years, but money had been pouring into Fremont Street, just a couple blocks away—bars, restaurants, taverns. However, this area was still lagging behind.

“What’s your plan?” she asked.

“I’ve bought several lots. Fremont is saturated with bars, but not apartments or condos. I want to tap into that market.” He led her inside the defunct office building.

In the lobby, a short man with a florid complexion waited for them.

“Brynn, this is Pete Anderson, my foreman. Let’s show Brynn the lay of the land.”

As Pete reached forward to shake her hand, the buttons marching down his protruding belly threatened to revolt and pop off his shirt. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Iain, this place needs a ton of work. I’m talking at least thirty million for the high-end buyers you want to attract. At least. And that’s just the inside. I haven’t even looked at the other two sites yet.”

Iain nodded. “One at a time, yeah?”

Brynn’s brows shot skyward. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Which is why I’m looking for investment partners.”

He walked past Pete, farther into the darkened interior. From the outside, Brynn could tell the building had seen its heyday sometime in the late sixties or early seventies, though the wallpaper and carpeting had been upgraded in the eighties, as evidenced by the shades of mauve. The entire place smelled funky—smoke, stale air, and mustiness.

Iain turned to her. “Ready?”

She avoided eye contact. He acted so normal, as if she hadn’t just been on her knees a few moments ago or told him her deepest secret. Iain concentrated entirely on business. How he could compartmentalize like that baffled her.

Since the electricity in the building had been turned off, the elevator was out of commission. Pete handed them each flashlights, and Iain led the way up the stairs. Brynn followed him, with Pete bringing up the rear. On the second floor, Iain carefully picked his way through the construction detritus. This entire floor had been gutted, the walls knocked down to studs and the floor stripped to concrete. Iain kicked a couple of five-gallon buckets out of his path and tossed a trowel into one corner.

He walked a wide circle around the room, his light moving over the massive space. Brynn could tell he was assessing, calculating, forming ideas. “What do you see, Brynn?”

“An ancient building in need of a massive cash infusion.”

“True.” He stopped near the window and set down the flashlight before removing plywood from the frame. A small amount of light punctured the darkness. “Come here.” He crooked his index finger. As she stood even with him, he cupped her shoulders. The glass had been broken, and Brynn was careful not to stand close to the jagged shards still in place. “Now what do you see?”

Across the street was another old—by Vegas standards anyway—medical building. Next to it was a string of small businesses, including an auto body shop. “You tell me,” she said.

“That building is going to be a gallery. See up the street? That’s going to be a cinema. And over there, a row of boutiques. This place won’t look the same in five years. In ten, it will be an established neighborhood.”

“How can you be so sure? Just because the city is pouring money into planting a few trees and making a bike path doesn’t mean it will be a success.”

“Oh, it will be. I have no doubts on that score.”

“You’re a visionary.”

His brows lifted a fraction as he gazed down at her. “I’m practical. Doesn’t take a genius to see this is the next wave of development. Fremont is just the beginning.”

“What if you can’t draw people to the downtown area? What if they want to party here, but not actually live so close to the bars?”

“That’s a valid concern, Mr. Chapman.” Pete’s knees creaked as he bent down to pick up a petrified paintbrush.

“Oi. You’re giving your opinion freely—why?”

Iain cut people off, demanded respect, but offered little in return. How could she trust a man like this? Short answer: Brynn wasn’t sure she could.

She placed her body between Iain and his foreman, letting her inner mediator take over. Having grown up with Allie and Monica, it was second nature. “I’m sure Pete is voicing his concern because he cares about you and your business.”

“That and I want to get paid,” Pete said.

Iain scoffed and thawed a bit. “We all want to get paid, mate. I understand your concerns, and for what it’s worth, Marc shares them. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few, yeah?”

Pete tipped his head to Brynn, untucked his hand from the pocket of his baggy jeans, and left.

“I think you’ve forgotten your motto already.” Brynn turned back to the window. “So why does Marc think this is a bad idea?”

“Like Pete said, it’s going to be expensive. This is the first renovation of many. It’s definitely risky. If we can’t get outside funding, we’ll have most of our capital tied up for years to come, which will make it difficult to invest in other business opportunities.”

“But you said you had investors lined up.”

He rolled his lips inward. “I said I’m looking for investors. I don’t have them lined up. Yet.” He abruptly bent to grab his light, then strode to the middle of the room. “But look at this place. This area is ripe for the picking. We can put our stamp here.”

“Marc is your brake pedal.”

“Pardon?”

Brynn kind of liked confusing him. It was a delightful change of pace, keeping him on his toes instead of the other way around. “He’s your devil’s advocate guy.”

“Brake pedal. I quite like that. That’s exactly what he is.”

“Marc thinks this building is a money pit, right?”

Iain dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“You see the future in it.”

Again, he nodded.

“Who’s right?”

“I am. Or rather, I will be, eventually. We went over this yesterday. Marc is a clever bloke. I don’t always take his advice, but I value it.”

“And yet you’re equal partners?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why do
you
get the final say? Shouldn’t Marc’s opinion carry as much weight?”

“He trusts me. He gives me the control, just like you did last night.”

Brynn fought her brain’s need to rewind back to that highly erotic event. It was difficult, but she managed—barely. “Maybe Marc is your anti-Iain.”

“Blimey fucking hell,” he mumbled. “What does that mean?”

“He points out all the negatives and that gives you a place to put any doubts you might be feeling. He’s the yin to your yang.”

“He’s just bloody good at his job and loyal to boot. Besides, he does the day-to-day bit with the office workers. If I had to be in charge of all that, it would do me head in. He and I each have our strengths.”

“But do you value his opinion?”

“Of course I do. I just don’t always agree with it.”

Brynn smiled. “You don’t always agree with him, but you give him the courtesy of hearing him out. You value him because he’s an important member of your team.”

“Oh God, here we go.”

“I think your office could use a morale boost. Your employees need to get comfortable with you, Iain. They need to see that you care about them. Appoint employee liaisons. Representatives who come to you with their concerns.” When he opened his mouth to speak, Brynn walked toward him and placed a hand on his arm. “If you take an interest, it will give them pride and ownership over their work.”

He stroked the back of her hand, curling his long fingers around her wrist. “I don’t care if they feel ownership, pet. I care if they do their jobs.”

Brynn fought the urge to smack her forehead. This circular argument was going nowhere. She wrested her hand away. “I’m done trying to explain it. You need to at least
pretend
like you give a crap about other people’s feelings. I hate to be blunt, but your office morale sucks.”

“Will this idea of yours fix it?”

“It’s a start. You need office lunches, the occasional party, maybe a dinner where their families can come and you foot the bill.”

“Sounds like being trapped in hell. Anything else?”

Brynn reached up and patted his shoulder. His hard, firm shoulder. “Nope. I think I may have broken you already.”

The look he gave her was one of such supreme arrogance, she immediately became intimidated. “Oh, you haven’t broken me, love. I’m harder than these steel girders, I am. Nothing shakes me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now tell me what you plan to do with this place.”

Iain replaced the plywood and led her back down the stairs. Then for the next hour, he laid out his plans, showing her various configurations, blueprints, and artists’ renderings. Pete gave his opinion on costs and the time frame.

As Iain laid out his ideas for the apartments—salvaged, stripped wood; industrial kitchens; an open-floor concept—his enthusiasm was infectious. Iain Chapman had a gift.

“What do you think, Brynnie?”

“I think you’re either brilliant or a dreamer.”

He negligently shrugged one shoulder. “I like to think I’m a little of both.”

Now that surprised her. To Brynn, there was nothing but an earthy, gritty realism to this man.

Brynn turned to Pete. “Can you give us a second?”

Pete glanced at Iain, who nodded. “You can go for today. Write me up a cost projection. I’m meeting with the architect in a few weeks. I’ll have Amelia call you.”

“Great.” Pete nodded to Brynn. “Good to meet you.” When he left, the metal door banged closed behind him.

“Couldn’t wait to get me alone, eh?”

“Kind of. But only to talk about work.”

He puffed his cheeks and blew out a gusty sigh. “I’ll relent on your liaison idea. What more do you bloody want?”

Brynn nearly felt sorry for him. “If
I
recall, this method was your idea. You could take the course online. It would only take two or three days. You wanted to do this your way. So we’re doing it your way.”

“What now?”

“Tomorrow, let’s start thinking about how your team sees you.”

“Team, huh? Call them what they are, Brynn—workers, employees. I’ve had quite enough of this PC language bullshit for one day.”

Brynn pulled in a long, steady breath. Iain was starting to frustrate the hell out of her. “What do you want to get out of this process?”

He twisted his mouth to one side and studied her. His eyes moved over her, landing on her breasts and lingering there. “You know what I want. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear, but obviously, it needs repeating. I. Want. You.”

Hearing the words heated Brynn’s blood and stirred her ire at the same time. Was it exciting that he wanted her? Yeah, that part was pretty hot, but he was wasting her time and she resented the hell out of it. Brynn was weary of wrangling with him. The man was tireless in his resistance. And she’d finally had enough. “If you want me, then act like a normal person and ask me out on a date. Woo me. Win me. But stop arguing over every suggestion I make, because it’s starting to piss me off.”

A grin spread over Iain’s face. “I do like to get the best of your temper, love.”

Without another word, Brynn spun on her heel and stormed toward the door. Back at the office, she had real clients with real problems. She needed to figure out what to do about Cass and the sinking ship that was the Delaney Training Center. Brynn needed a little time away from Iain, too. When he was around, she couldn’t think about anything other than him, gauging his response, watching his expressions, listening for changes in his accent.

It was time for Brynn to get back to her life. She wasn’t a twitterpated fourteen-year-old girl.

Outside, Brynn waited for Iain to emerge. She didn’t say anything on the drive back to his office. He ignored her as well, spending his time talking business on the phone and texting.

When the car slowed at the front of Iain’s building, Brynn wanted to turn on her heel and leave him standing there, but his words about running away taunted her. Instead, she stood next to him on the sidewalk, waiting until he hung up from his latest call.

“I’m headed back to my office, Iain. Think about what I said, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He dipped his head for a swift kiss, but she ducked out of reach. If he kissed her again, all bets were off. He’d have her upstairs and naked on the conference room table. Her resistance to him was less than zero. She walked backward, keeping him in her line of sight.

He simply stood there, looking very annoyed.

“Remember your new motto. Don’t be a dickhead.”

Iain stood near the entrance of the building and
watched Brynn disappear. Somewhere along the line, he’d fucked up, because she’d barely looked at him on the ride back to the office.

Sure, Iain may have quibbled about her ideas, parties and the like. Hardly the worst sin he’d ever committed. He didn’t give a toss about employees’ opinions either. If they had any good suggestions, they’d be running their own show and not working for him.

Still, if Iain’s plan was to impress Brynn, he’d missed it by a mile. And maybe she had a point. Perhaps he could be more pleasant. Wouldn’t kill him, would it?

When Iain replayed his time with Brynn, he could admit the truth. He’d acted like a bit of a knobhead. And he may have gone about things the wrong way. Woo her, she’d said. Win her. In order to do that, Iain was going to have to be…sociable.
You can do it for business, so why not for Brynn? You learned to play golf, you wanker.
Bloody hell. Iain needed to stop whinging and simply comply with her wishes. Wasn’t difficult, was it? He was just being hardheaded. It would all be worth it if he could have Brynn.

She wasn’t his usual type of woman. Actually, she was so much better—sensitive, kind, sweet, gentle. He’d had her naked twice now, and he wanted more. She was lovely inside and out.

He’d been chuffed when she’d finally been honest and admitted to her sexual kinks. She liked it when Iain took control. When he’d told her to suck him off, he could clearly see how excited she’d become. Her lids had grown heavy, her mouth had parted, her breath had quickened. Brynn, his beautiful, delicate Brynn, had gotten on her knees and taken him in her mouth. She didn’t do that type of thing lightly. Yet she’d swallowed him. Every drop. It was the most delicious, erotic memory he had. And last night, he’d given her an orgasm. Those other two blokes hadn’t been able to do that. Filled him with bloody pride, that did. He wanted to do it again.

But right now, Iain needed to head up to his office and—oh God—make small talk. Try and form a connection with these people, somehow. He should probably start with the accounting department, as they seemed the most timid of the bunch.

He took the elevator up to the office, but instead of heading straight to his suite, Iain cut a left. At his presence, every bean counter turned to stare, then dropped their eyes. Brynn did that too, sometimes. Was he really that much of a blighter that people couldn’t look him in the bloody face?

Tom, head of the department, stood and approached him. “Something I can do for you, Mr. Chapman?”

“No, just wanted to see how everyone was doing. Think I’ll make the rounds.” Iain walked to the nearest employee, a slight man who sweated profusely.

Iain thrust his hands in his pockets, fumbled with the dice, and searched for something to say. Anything. When his mind came up blank, Iain decided to do it the English way and talk about the weather. “Getting hot outside, innit?”

The man swallowed audibly and stared at his computer screen. “Yes. Very hot, sir.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Invoices to all of our…your…building tenants.”

Iain and Marc had started with strip malls and moved up to office buildings. Doctors sometimes paid late, lawyers were dead on time, but dentists were the worst. “Everybody up-to-date?”

“A few are delinquent. But they always pay the late fee.”

What was he supposed to say now? Bloody hell. “Well done.”

The man gazed up at Iain with a surprised expression. “Thank you, sir.”

Iain moved to the next cubicle. He couldn’t use the weather gambit with everyone. Small talk was a waste of time, so Iain just got right to it, asking each person what they were doing, if they thought the current system was efficient. One woman, Brittney, if he remembered correctly, thought their software should be updated. A man called Ronnie had a newborn and showed him pictures.

By the time Iain made it back to his office, he’d clocked in fifteen minutes of face time. He hadn’t enjoyed it, but it hadn’t been as dreadful as he’d assumed it would be. Brynn would be proud of him. He couldn’t wait to see her again so he could tell her.

Iain stopped walking. Earlier in the day, he’d realized that he wanted to impress her, but there was more to it than that. She actually mattered to him. A great deal.

Well, shit. He’d…think about that later.

Iain continued on and stopped in front of Amelia’s desk. “How was your morning?” she asked. “Is Brynn coming back this afternoon?”

“No, but I want you to carve out some time tomorrow so we can sit down with her and discuss morale. Marc too. If I have to suffer, so does he.”

Her hand paused on the keyboard. “Morale?”

“Brynn thinks I can lighten the atmosphere around here.”

Amelia grinned. “I think that’s a terrific idea.”

“Well, I don’t.” He pulled the dice from his pocket. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll set it up. Would you like me to have coffee and bagels? Maybe some of those Danishes you love.”

“Whatever, just do it.” He walked into his office and slammed the dice on his desk. This whole business was bloody tedious. Seemed he and Brynn were both stepping out of their comfort zones.

* * *

Brynn didn’t bother to sneak into her office that day—she was too wound up. Irritated and aroused with Iain on one hand, worried about TDTC’s future on the other.

Taking the elevator, Brynn got off on her floor and walked past Brandon, assuring him she’d see to his email blasts. When Cass tried to intercept Brynn and corral her for an impromptu meeting, Brynn shook her head. “Now’s not a good time. I’ll send you a summary of my progress.” Then she kept veering toward her tiny office.

Paige overheard and her eyebrows shot upward, but Brynn ignored her as well. She needed to figure a few things out.

True, TDTC wasn’t her business, she had no ownership in the place, and yet she bore a certain amount of responsibility for these people. But Brynn couldn’t force Cass to pull herself together any more than she could coerce Iain into treating his employees like human beings.

Some days, people were nothing but a freaking frustration.

Brynn had booted up her computer and settled down to work when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Allie again. Speaking of frustrating.

“Hey.”

“How are you?” Al asked.

“Fine, just really busy right now.”

Allie hesitated. “Brynnie, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

She closed her eyes, counted to six, and let her breath out in a whoosh. “I don’t like it when you and Monica gang up on me. I’m an adult.” She kept her tone calm and thought about what she needed to say next. “I don’t come running to you with every problem anymore, Allie, because I don’t need to. You did a great job of raising me, and I’m grateful. I love you, but I don’t want to be smothered anymore.” Normally, she bit her tongue and kept all that buried deep inside. Or just ignored Allie’s phone call. This afternoon, she’d been honest with Iain, and now she was speaking her mind with Allie. It felt empowering.

Allie said nothing for a moment. In the silence, Brynn heard her sister stifle what sounded suspiciously like a sob. Immediately, Brynn felt guilt and pain constrict her chest. Then Allie spoke. “I didn’t raise you, Brynnie. I just helped. Thank you for that, though. It means a lot.” She sniffled a couple of times and cleared her throat. “You’re right, I do tend to smother you, and I apologize. I want you to be happy, and I don’t think you are. Honey, you haven’t dated anyone in ages. You work constantly. I worry.”

Brynn wondered if she should say anything about Iain. It was so tenuous, and Allie would only nag her about it—she honestly couldn’t help herself. Still, if Brynn wanted to be treated like an adult, she needed to start forcing Allie to see her as one. That meant being truthful. “Okay, if I tell you something, you can’t ask questions and you can’t bring it up again until I’m ready to talk about it.”

“Promise.”

“I like someone.”

Allie gasped. “I knew it. I knew something was different last night. You should invite him to our house for dinner, introduce him to the family.”

Nice try, but Brynn wasn’t fooled. “Introduce him to the family” meant “interrogation over Cornish game hens.” “I appreciate the offer, but no. Besides, I don’t know how serious this thing is between Iain and me.” It felt serious. Brynn had done things with Iain she’d never done with another man. And she’d been honest about her sexual needs. Another first.

“Just think about it. No extended family. Just Trevor, Cal, Monica, and me. We’ll see you on Sunday. Seven o’clock.” Then she hung up.

Like hell. Why would Iain want to subject himself to a family dinner? He probably only viewed Brynn as a temporary fling anyway. And while Brynn adored Trevor, he’d act all superior and snotty toward Iain. Cal would ask him about cars, and since Iain didn’t drive, he’d fail that test, too. Iain’s pride would get bruised. Words and insults were bound to ensue. Posh versus working class—a clash of the expat titans. No thanks. Besides, Brynn wasn’t actually dating Iain Chapman. What happened in the backseat—every time she thought about
that
, heat flooded her cheeks—didn’t matter in the long run. While it was a hot, sexy memory that made her clench her legs together out of piercing need, they weren’t
dating
dating.

Brynn tried to put Iain, this afternoon’s sexcapades, and her sisters from her mind. She spent the next two hours editing a cartoon film about hand washing when her phone rang. Monica this time. Brynn ignored it. She’d had about all the confrontation she could handle for one day. Telling the truth was exhausting.

Two minutes later, when her phone rang again, Brynn sighed and gave in. “Busy now.”

“Me too.”
Iain.
“And yet, I can’t stop thinking about the way you swallowed my cock. It was the highlight of my day.”

Brynn was speechless for a second. “I thought you were my sister.”

“Has a cock, does she? Which sister? I don’t want to make a gaffe.”

“I don’t want to talk about this afternoon. It was very”—Brynn stopped and licked her dry lips—“irregular of me.”

“Irregular. There’s a word. Not a good one, though.”

Why didn’t Brynn ever have a witty comeback ready? “Was there something you wanted?” She winced at her choice of words.

“I thought we’d already settled that, love. Also, I rang to make sure you got to work safely and to take you to task for not letting me kiss you good-bye. Bad form, that.”

“Yeah, well, none of us are perfect.”

“Some of us come close,” he said.

“Really? You think
you’re
close to perfect?” The arrogance of this man was astounding.

“Not me, love. You.”

Brynn’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s not true. I’ve got a ton of faults.”

“It is true. I already told you, I say what I mean. You’re as close to perfection as I’ll ever get, Brynn Campbell. Now, should I pick you up at the office or at your home?”

Brynn was still reeling from the compliment, too shocked to say anything.

Iain filled the conversational void. “You said to woo you. Win you. I plan on doing just that, starting tonight.”

Brynn pressed her hand to her warm neck. “What did you have in mind?”

“None of your business, nosy parker. By the way, I called a meeting tomorrow with Marc and Ames. To discuss our morale situation.”

Compliments? Compliance with her suggestions? A plan to woo her? Brynn couldn’t process any of it. “Who are you? The Iain I left two hours ago was fighting me every step of the way.”

“You’ll have to see for yourself. I’ll pick you up at seven, yeah? At your office. And, Brynn, my darling, lovely girl, if you’re not there, I’ll be quite cross.”

“I’ve never seen you anything but cross.”

“Not true. I wasn’t cross in the car this afternoon. Seven. Be there.”

Brynn could keep fighting it, this heat between them, but it was a losing game. She was hooked. “Yes. I’ll be here.”

When she hung up, Brynn crossed her arms behind her head and grinned. Somehow, she’d become smit by a Brit. She’d probably end up a brokenhearted basket case, but for right now, this minute, Brynn had never felt more alive.

After half an hour of daydreaming, reliving each kiss Iain had given her and her display in the car, Brynn finally roused herself and got back to work, plowing steadily through her list. She called clients, checked copy for a newsletter, and sent Brandon’s email. She was just about to proof a new online ad when her office door opened.

Cassandra stole inside and leaned against it. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you speaking to me?”

Should she confront Cass about the business? No, Brynn needed more preparation for that conversation.

“Just talk to me again, Brynn. Please. You’re angry that I sent you back to Blue Moon, aren’t you?” Cass appeared paler than normal, and the orange lipstick clashed with her coloring.

Brynn spun in her chair and faced her boss. She understood why Cass was so anxious to get her hands on Iain’s money, but Brynn hated being played. She’d have to broach the subject eventually, but it didn’t have to be today. “I’m just really busy, Cass. Since I’m now working as an educator, I’m having a hard time playing catch up.”