His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (6 page)

Inside, the hostess greeted him with a wide, phony smile that looked more like a grimace. “Mr. Chapman. So good to see you.” She moved toward them, but Iain held up a hand to stop her.

“I’m headed to a table in the back. Give us two lunch specials and have the sommelier pair it with a couple of wines. Also, I’d like to see the manager before we leave.” He moved past her, guiding Brynn through the dining room.

Iain looked around. The place wasn’t quite half-full. Not bad for an early lunch, but he’d like to do better. Getting into the hotel itself had cost a bloody fortune. It would be worth it—eventually—but they needed to generate more customers during the day. He’d bring it up at the next meeting.

Iain stopped at the last booth, in the corner farthest from the kitchen. “What do you think?”

Sliding across the bench seat, Brynn ran her hand over the smooth wooden tabletop. “It’s lovely.”

“Pecan wood.” He knocked on it three times for luck. Not that he needed it.

A waiter hustled to the table and filled their water glasses. The lad was obviously nervous. Hands shaking, he dribbled water across the table. “So sorry, Mr. Chapman.” He mopped it up and shot a hasty glance in Iain’s direction. “I’ll bring out appetizers and the sommelier will be right over.”

Brynn gave him a bright smile. “Thank you.” Then she glanced at Iain. When he said nothing, she sighed.

“You’re welcome,” the waiter choked out and scurried away.

“These people are terrified of you,” Brynn said. “So are your employees at the office.”

“Why does everyone think that’s a bad thing?” His phone rang again, and he glanced at the screen. His banker. Thirteen years ago, Iain couldn’t get a loan. Now, he had his own personal banker. Success didn’t suck. “I’ve got to take this one.” As he chatted, the waiter came back and deposited a few nibbles on a tray. When the wine came, Brynn refused a glass. Her smile was open and friendly to the people who worked for him. But every time she looked at Iain, her expression became guarded.

Brynn put a few canapés on a plate and pushed it toward him. He nodded as he wrapped up his conversation. “What do you think of the food?” he asked once he’d ended the call.

“It’s delicious. These tomato tarts are amazing.”

“Heirloom tomatoes and goat cheese, I believe. You don’t like wine?”

“I do. But not at lunch or when I’m supposed to be facilitating a class. Which is a little difficult when my sole participant won’t participate.”

“Business is booming, what can I say?” He took a sip of wine. Dry and crisp. He usually didn’t indulge during the day either. Unless it was a working lunch, Iain ate a sandwich at his desk. But he’d wanted to be alone with Brynn, and if he could check on the restaurant at the same time…well, two birds and all that.

“Can you describe your process for problem solving?” she asked after polishing off the last bite of toasted corn bread.

“Oh God. Fine, I’ll answer your questions on one condition.”

“
I
don’t feel that conditions are necessary. You called us, remember? You’re paying for this course, Iain, and
I
don’t feel you’re getting your money’s worth by talking on the phone all morning.”

“So let’s continue over dinner.”

“That sounds suspiciously date-like. And besides, I have plans.”

Iain’s jaw tightened. She had a date? The background report specifically stated she didn’t have a boyfriend. This bloke must be new. Iain had never been jealous in his life, but he felt it now, burning hot inside of him. Over his dead fucking body would she go out with another man. “What’s his name?”

“What’s your process for problem solving?” she countered.

“I see a problem and I fix it. What’s. His. Name?”

“Can you describe a recent situation that called for immediate action?”

Iain shoved the plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table. “You think you can avoid my question, love. You’re wrong.”

“
I—
” She stopped talking as his frown deepened. “I don’t think we should get into personal topics. They’ll only cloud the issue.”

“What issue is that?”

Brynn seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

“Just spit it out, pet. No need to spare my tender feelings. I don’t have any.”

“I’m here as your educator. I can’t do my job if you’re not willing to do yours. I need your attention and your cooperation. Will you give me your cooperation, Iain?”

“Gladly.” Iain kept his eyes on hers, but extended his hand and trailed his fingers over the thin, copper bracelets lining her wrist. He twisted a couple back and forth. “How’s this wanker you’re dating going to feel when you start shagging me? He’s going to feel like rubbish, yeah? You’d best break it off with him now.” Without looking, he turned her hand over and slid his finger across her palm. “A recent situation that called for immediate action? And we’re not including our snog in the lift, right?”

Brynn opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her eyes grew wide as he slipped his finger over the heel of her hand and through two bracelets. Caressing her inner wrist, Iain felt Brynn’s pulse hammering against her skin. She liked it when he touched her. Her body’s response gave her away.

“Every situation calls for action,” he said. “It’s a matter of degrees, innit? I look at the big picture, decide what I want, and hire people to handle the details. If there are situations that require immediate attention, I tend to those first, and I use all the resources at my disposal to fix a problem.” Yeah, Iain could speak corporate bullshit when it suited him. However, blunt words were generally more effective.

She lifted one brow. “And you use threats to get the outcome you want, like that man with the busted water pipe? Are those the resources you’re talking about?”

“I never threaten. Second rule of business: words are meaningless unless you can back them up. You make an example of one bloke”—he continued to softly rub her smooth skin—“and everyone else will fall in line.”

“I don’t think that’s the best way to go about getting what you want. What if you could, um”—she glanced down, watched his fingers trace the lines along her palm—“get the most from your employees and have them, you know, feel invested in the process? Wouldn’t that be a more satisfactory outcome?” Though she sounded winded, Brynn kept her hand in place and let him stroke her. Whoever this boyfriend was, he was yesterday’s news.

“And what would satisfy you, love?” As Brynn studied him with those solemn eyes, the moment seemed to stretch out and crackle with tension. It was the same kind of sexually charged energy they’d shared in the lift. Her lips parted slightly. With dark waves framing her face, she looked so young and fresh.

“We’re not talking about me,” she finally said. “We’re talking about your need for control.”

“I do like to be in control—in the boardroom. In the bedroom. I think you’d like that too.” She breathed in a little gasp and her eyes widened slightly. “So I ask again, what would satisfy you, Brynn Campbell?”

* * *

Seeing Iain Chapman buck-ass naked might do for starters. She wanted to watch him move, see the solid bands of muscle play over his body as he flexed. Brynn had taken a life drawing class in college. At first, she’d been so embarrassed when the guy dropped his robe that her strokes had been little more than squiggles. But once she got to work, the model ceased being a real person. He was like a bird or a bowl of fruit. Just another subject. Brynn couldn’t imagine viewing Iain that way.

What would it feel like to have him inside of her? Amazing, that’s what. To be held down and taken by this powerful, dominant man? That was her ultimate fantasy. Brynn’s breathing became erratic and her heart rate sped up to a scary pace.

In her fantasy, having Iain call all the shots would feel incredible, but in reality, it would probably be a disappointment. Brynn had trouble bringing herself to orgasm. Though her hormones gave the green light—she could throb and ache and come so close to release it was nearly painful—it rarely happened. She could count the times on one hand. It was depressing.

His earlier kiss, and now his touch, left Brynn with pent-up desire and a restlessness she’d become used to. Except with Iain, the level of unfulfilled sexual hunger was amplified times ten.

His fingers were long and blunted at the tips. She watched as he continued to sneak his thumb beneath her bangles and skim the veins crisscrossing her wrist. His touch was electric, causing goose bumps to march up her arms.

What was it about this man? The accent? Although Brynn was accustomed to Brit speak because of her brothers-in-law, Iain’s accent was different than what she was used to—rougher, sexier, with an edginess Trevor and Cal didn’t possess. Then there was the aura of power that surrounded him, a level of unshakeable confidence on display with every move he made. The way he carried himself with purpose and determination. Iain Chapman knew where he was going, and God help the idiot who got in his way. Ruthlessness wasn’t a great trait to have, and ordinarily it would have turned Brynn off, but Iain made it alluring. He was comfortable in his own skin, and that was appealing, too. Her pussy had been wet since that kiss, and now, with all these soft touches, he was keeping it that way.
Job well done, sir.
But there was no relief to be had. Not for Brynn.

She’d had two boyfriends in the past, each willing to try just about anything, but she was too shy to ask for what she really wanted—to be held down, controlled, subjugated by a strong man. After a while, her boyfriends had grown tired of working so damned hard and Brynn refused to fake it. The relationships fell apart.

Brynn resorted to watching porn—all flavors—and while it left her excited, she struggled to find a happy ending. She bought toys left and right, hoping one of them would unlock the mysterious, elusive puzzle that left her body in limbo. Brynn had even gone spelunking for her G-spot with zero results.

So now she was left with a duffel
bag full of vibrators shoved in the back of her closet and sublimated energy she focused on work. Brynn knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with a sexually aggressive man like Iain Chapman.

But if he took control…

No, it was hopeless. And though Iain’s touch felt crazy good, it wouldn’t culminate in fireworks. She was wound too tight to find release with a partner. It just wasn’t in the cards.

Time to put an end to all this flirting and touching and kissing. Taking a long pull of air, Brynn eased her hand away from his. “What I want is for you to take leadership training seriously.”

Iain continued to stare into her eyes. The air surrounding him was electric, heated. He was still thinking about sex, she could tell. His dick was probably hard, too. Hard and long and thick.

“Is that all you want?” he asked. “Because I think you like it when I touch you. Kiss you. Imagine what it will feel like when I fu—”

“Whoa.” When she held up her hand, the bracelets slid toward her elbow and made a soft tinkling sound. “All of that is completely wrong.
I
feel we need to stay on point. Let’s be honest, Iain, you have no intention of changing your attitude toward your employees. While that’s up to you, I have a truckload of work back at the office. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but there are companies who
want
my help.”

His phone rang on her last two words. “Hold that thought, love.” He pressed his cell to his ear and started an in-depth conversation about the cost of existing infrastructure and beam integrity.

Iain thought this course was a joke. He didn’t respect her work. He had time to kiss her, touch her, and verbally bait her, but no time to listen. That part was particularly insulting.

With halting, angry movements, Brynn grabbed her bag and scooted out of the booth. She crossed the restaurant, smiled at the hostess, and walked at a fast clip out of the hotel without ever looking back.

Iain Chapman could find himself a new trainer, because Brynn was through.

After the taxi dropped her off at the parking garage near Iain’s office, Brynn hopped into her own car and called Paige Adams.

“How’s life on the outside?” Paige answered.

“Not as pleasant as you might think.” Since noonday traffic was a pain, with too many red lights and daring pedestrians darting into the middle of the road, Brynn hooked a left onto a side street. “How’s Camp Cray Cray this morning?”

“Head Counselor Fucking Nutballs asked me to call her house and leave affirmation messages for her cat. Seriously, Brynn, I can’t take much more of this. Keeping her on track is impossible. The woman’s so disorganized, she lost her phone in the break room freezer today. Who does that?”

An insanely neurotic, disorganized mess of a boss. “Listen, I’m going to try and sneak into the office. I need to be out of there by six tonight, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Tonight was a newly instituted SNO, otherwise known as Sisters Night Out. Allie and Monica would make her life hell if she missed it. Getting out of a SNO required an act of God or a doctor’s note. Brynn had neither and deadlines didn’t count. “Can you create a diversion?”

“What kind of diversion?” Paige asked. “Do you want me to whip out a Snickers bar and send Brandon to the emergency room? That would shake things up around here.”

Recent hire, Brandon, and his peanut allergy had caused
quite a stir. “Only if we want a lawsuit on our hands.”

“Dude needs to get an EpiPen and deal with it. Why make the rest of us suffer?”

Brynn steered her Toyota toward the highway entrance ramp and floored it. “Perhaps if you step back from the situation and put things in perspective, you might find that your need for a midafternoon sugar rush isn’t as imperative as Brandon’s need to breathe. Maybe? Just a little bit?”

“Talk like a real person already. You’ve taken so many of those training courses, you sound like one of your own manuals.”

That wasn’t so terrible, was it? If there was one thing Brynn hated, it was confrontation, and by using neutral language, she could usually get her point across in a kind way.
The coward’s way. You never say what you’re really thinking.
So what? Brynn might temper her language, but that was hardly a fault. Take Iain Chapman for example—the man was blunt to the point of rudeness. If everyone went around spouting their true feelings, society would break down in a heartbeat. No, Brynn would stick to diplomacy. It was probably less satisfying than telling someone to fuck off, the way Iain would, but she’d have fewer regrets. “Just don’t let Cass know I’m in the office this afternoon, okay? And if a man named Iain Chapman calls, play dumb.”

“Cass totally takes advantage of you, Brynn. You could work in a normal place. A place where your boss doesn’t cry about her broken vibrator or tell you about the time she lost her virginity to a second cousin. It’s gross.”

“Yes, her sex stories are a little creepy, but Cass would fall apart without me. I just need an assistant to run interference and things will get better.” Besides, if Brynn ever tried to quit, Cass would only talk her into staying. Brynn had no illusions about her lack of spine—she’d fold like a card table the second Cass’s brown eyes filled with tears. Besides, Brynn liked her work most days. True, she could be making more in a bigger firm, but she’d have less creative control. Money wasn’t everything.

Iain Chapman thought it was, though. He was very caught up in the bottom line. The man was an autocratic, sexy, British, sexy—and fine, she’d already listed that, but he was so hot, it was worth repeating—tyrant. Which shouldn’t turn her on and yet her nipples got hard at the thought of him getting all bossy in the bedroom.

“You’re supposed to be an expert in conflict resolution, Brynn. Grow a set already.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Sure you are, and I’ll finally lose those last ten pounds I’ve been trying to shift.”

“Diversion?”

Paige sighed. “Fine, but you owe me. And I will collect.”

Brynn turned into the office parking lot and grabbed a lone spot in the back row. Adjusting the hobo bag on her shoulder, she squinted against the sun as it glared off the reflective glass of the building. With the highway to her back, the hum of traffic roared until she stepped inside and took the stairs.

Sneaking into her own office—it was pathetic. The same way she’d hauled ass out of the restaurant while Iain took yet another phone call. She should learn how to approach people in a straightforward manner, but it was so damned uncomfortable. Confronting Iain would be pointless anyway. Though she’d only known him for two days, Brynn had that much figured out. No, it was much easier to slink off, hide, and hope that a real facilitator would be available tomorrow. Then she’d never have to see Iain Chapman again. It would have all ended in disaster anyway, right? Low-gasm Brynn with Steamroller Iain? Not a good combo.
It felt good, though.
In fact, the touch of his hands, the way his tongue slid over her skin—it was better than good. It was ecstasy.

Brynn pushed Iain’s kisses to the back of her mind and trudged up the stairs. When she reached the third floor, she heard screams behind the door. Easing it open, she peered inside and saw six salesmen rushing around, peeking under chairs. The only other people in the room were Paige and Lori, who stood atop of their desks. What the holy hell was going on?

When Paige caught Brynn’s eye, she winked, then yelled, “Oh my God. The rat went toward the break room! Get him!” Lori looked as if she might faint, but the guys stampeded down the hallway and out of sight. Paige subtly waved Brynn on.

Brynn shot into her office and locked the door. Leaning against it, she sighed with relief, then dropped into her chair and booted up her prehistoric computer. As she waited, she saw the office phone light up. Iain would call here, demand to speak to her. Too bad. Brynn’s time was valuable, too.
Big talk for a woman who fled like a rabbit.

Instead of immediately opening a client folder, Brynn typed Iain Chapman’s name into a search engine and spent the next half hour cyberstalking him. There wasn’t much to find. For such a brash character, he seemed to be a private person. The official Blue Moon bio didn’t have anything personal about him, except that he was from Manchester.

When Brynn looked up Blue Moon in conjunction with the city, she hit on a connection. “Blue Moon” was the unofficial song of the Manchester City Football Club. Brits were nutty for their soccer. But knowing Iain liked a sport didn’t give her any insight into the man himself.

Realizing she’d been goofing off for too long, Brynn shut down the browser and got to work. Over the next few hours, she received eight texts from Cassandra, each more hysterical than the last. Brynn ignored them, along with numerous incoming calls and the three separate knocks on her office door.

Hunkering down, she worked steadily and pretended not to hear the howls coming from her empty stomach. She never had gotten lunch. By three, Brynn was hungry, cranky, and desperate for a hit of caffeine, but if she stepped foot outside her office, she’d be bombarded by requests. So she sucked it up and stayed put.

Finally at five, Paige texted:
Leaving now. That Chapman dude is an ass. Cass made me call every hospital in the city to see if you’d been in an accident. Ur buying me sushi for lunch.
That seemed fair. Brynn would throw in dessert, too. She’d actually gotten a lot accomplished that afternoon.

At six, she shut down her computer and bundled up a few files. Time permitting, she’d slog through them tonight, but dinner with her sisters was more pressing.

Standing for the first time in hours, Brynn stretched her arms above her head. Then gathering her things, she left her hovel. In the main office, the overhead fluorescents had been turned off. Every desk was empty. But Brynn noticed light spilling from beneath Cassandra’s closed door. They were the last two here—as usual.

As quietly as she could, Brynn opened the side door and held on to the handle so that it wouldn’t close with a bang, alerting Cass to her presence. Looking over her shoulder, she walked down the hall.

“Where have you been all day, Brynn?”

She winced. Damn. She’d forgotten about the bathroom. Brynn faced forward and smiled at a narrow-eyed Cassandra Delaney.

“I was in my office.”

“Huh.” Cass placed her hands on both hips. “I was worried sick. Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?”

Brynn smacked her forehead. “Shoot, I must have turned off my phone.” She reached into her pocket and grabbed it. “Yeah, that’s what happened all right. So sorry.”

Brynn tried to edge her way past Cass. No luck. The other woman moved to block her exit.

“Well, I have some very troubling news. You’ll be shocked to know that Michael and I broke up. He ended it this afternoon. I found out when he changed his status to single. He didn’t even tell me to my face.”

“No! Wow, that’s terrible.”

“I’m going to die alone, Brynn.” Cassandra pulled a wad of Kleenex from inside her bra and rubbed at her eyes.

“No, you’re not. You’ll find someone. Probably when you least expect it.” Poor Cass. Her life was one epic disaster after another. Yeah, it was mostly her own fault, but still, Brynn couldn’t help but feel pity.

Cassandra grabbed Brynn’s hand. “Promise me something. Swear it by all you hold dear.”

“Okay.” Brynn tried to tug her hand free. “But
swear
is such a strong word.”

Cass ignored her. “Promise me that if I’m missing for more than a day, you’ll check on me. I don’t want to be one of those people who lays there, dead for weeks, with no one to notice until my body starts decomposing. I don’t want maggots on my rotting corpse, Brynn.” Tears began streaming down her face. “What happened to my life? No one cares about me.”

Brynn finally pulled her hand loose and wrapped one arm around Cass’s shoulders. “People care. I care. A lot.” If Brynn didn’t leave now, she was going to be late for dinner.
Stay and comfort Cass or be late for dinner and get grief from Allie and Monica?
She could handle her sisters—Brynn was used to that. “I’m really sorry about Michael. I know how much you love him. I have a dinner thing, but I can stay with you for a while. Maybe we can come up with a strategy to get you back on your feet.”

“No, that’s all right. You go on,” Cass said, her voice rising to a dramatic crescendo, “go live your life to the fullest, Brynn. In fact”—she paused and tossed back her head—“live it for both of us, kid.”

Oh God.
“I will. Thanks.” Brynn felt terrible, leaving Cass to sniffle into her soggy tissue. But she consoled herself with the fact that she’d been there for Cassandra through various crises. And Allie would probably serve chocolate cake for dessert. Shallow, yes. But Brynn was damned hungry.

Taking the highway home, she weaved in and out of traffic, switching lanes often. Brynn hated getting stuck behind slow drivers, and going for hours without any food hadn’t helped her mood. When she finally arrived at her house—a midcentury ranch that had taken months to decorate and update—Brynn slammed into her driveway and rushed inside.

After shedding her clothes and dropping her bracelets on the dresser, she hopped in the tiny shower stall for a speedy rinse. As she reached for the towel, the doorbell rang. Actually, it was more of a continuous buzz, as if someone was leaning against it. Probably her neighbor, Natasha, here to vent after having another fight with her hubby.

Tash was from Belarus, and Zeke, a drummer for a mediocre eighties cover band, hailed from Wisconsin. The cultural gap couldn’t be wider. Plus, he’d talked Tash into naming her toy Chihuahuas Moose and Squirrel, which he thought was hilarious. Brynn thought it showed an immature streak—unattractive in a fifty-year-old man.

She wrapped a towel around her wet torso, leaving the damp, wavy ends of her hair clinging to her back and shoulders. Hustling to the door, Brynn shivered and secured the towel before peering out the peephole.

Shit, that wasn’t Natasha. It was
Iain Chapman
, standing on her porch with his hand pressed over the buzzer.

When she’d left the restaurant earlier that day, she never dreamed he’d chase her down. While Brynn dreaded the thought of confrontation, part of her was secretly thrilled that he had gone to the effort.

Suddenly, the noise stopped. “I know you’re in there, Brynn. I can feel you staring, and I’m not going away.” While he didn’t yell, he said it loud enough to be heard through the door.

“Hang on a second,” she called.

“I’ll give you thirty. Then I’m coming in.”

Brynn believed him. Racing to her bedroom, she tossed the towel in the sink and snatched her red kimono. No wait, she couldn’t answer the door in a robe. That was too intimate. Too provocative. Brynn should be fully clothed for a standoff with Iain. Otherwise, he’d see it as an advantage. If only she owned a turtleneck.

Frozen by indecision, she jumped when the doorbell started buzzing again. Panicked, Brynn shrugged into the robe and cinched the tie tight around her waist. She gave herself a hasty once-over in the full-length mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and the goddamned splotches were back, climbing the sides of her neck like ivy up a brick wall. She brushed a hand down her throat and sped to the front door, flustered and out of breath. Taking two more seconds to try and pull herself together, Brynn reached for the handle, closed her eyes, and repeated a mantra she’d learned in a self-assertiveness seminar: “I have all the power I need. Today is the day I accept my possibilities.”