His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (12 page)

When he released her, Brynn spun around and closed her eyes for a moment, tightening her hand into a fist. He was hers for the taking. She could have him, all of that passion, the hot, elemental sex. But after he was through with her, could she go back to a life of celibacy? Or even worse, go back to dating boring, normal men who played it safe in bed when she needed so much more? Iain had a calm yet powerful approach that made her feel safe enough to let herself go completely. To let him take full control of her. Last night, she’d trusted him. That was huge for her, and so unusual, it was almost frightening.

Brynn opened her eyes and focused on putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way back to the table. She grabbed her phone, stuffed it in the bag, and schooled her expression before facing him.

“Ready?” he asked. Was she? Even though she didn’t believe in destiny, it seemed like Brynn had been on a collision course with Iain Chapman from the moment they’d met.

Was she ready to let down her walls and be vulnerable? Maybe not. But she was getting there.

* * *

In the car, Iain was ready to give Brynn his attention. And his hands. And his tongue. He could see she was as dazed by this strange attraction as he was. She’d nearly buckled when he licked her palm. Iain had done it like he did everything in life—on instinct.

But as soon as they settled into the car, Brynn’s phone started ringing off the hook. Fucking annoying, it was. When she took the call rather than devoting herself to Iain, he didn’t like getting a taste of his own medicine.

Even as frustration had him fondling the pair of dice, he watched her closely. As she fielded questions, offered advice, and took on more work than she should, she did so with a confidence that he hadn’t seen in her before. She knew exactly what needed to be done.

She’d had the right of it earlier, in the conference room. In mocking her, Iain hadn’t respected Brynn at all. He still didn’t put any weight in this training bullshit, but she did. When Iain realized he’d hurt her feelings, he’d felt like a right knob. He vowed to do better.

Once the car parked at the entrance of the hotel, Brynn finally tucked the phone in her bag. “I apologize. Being out of the office two days running has sent everyone into panic mode.”

“No doubt.” Exiting from the car, Iain waited for Brynn and ushered her inside.

She peered up at him. “Promise me one thing.”

He moved across the lobby, nodding. “If I can.”

“Don’t fire anyone today.”

He sighed dramatically. “You’re determined to ruin my fun, aren’t you?” When they walked into the restaurant, the hostess he’d sent packing yesterday was ensconced behind the podium. When she saw him, her chin quivered.

“Mr. Chapman. Thank you so much for hiring me back. I can’t tell you what this job means. I’m working my way through school—”

He held up his hand. “Do stop. And don’t give me any more grief, yeah?” Then taking Brynn’s elbow, he guided her through the dining room to the same booth they’d shared before. After scooting across the leather bench, she simply stared at him.

“Wha’?”

“You hired her back.”

“You have a real talent for stating the obvious, love.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because it was the right thing to do?” she asked. A hopeful note caused her voice to rise in pitch.

“Hardly.” Perhaps that played some part.

A little smile graced her generous mouth. “You did it for me?”

“No need to look all smug. I’m just trying to get into your knickers.”

“Thank you, Iain.”

He did like it when she thanked him in that sweet, soft American accent.
Fuck me, I’ll be writing sonnets next, trying to find words that rhyme with Brynn.
Win. Spin. Twin.
Twins
.

The same waiter stopped by their table. Iain shot him a look full of loathing. He wanted five fucking minutes alone with her and his patience, what little he had left, was running out. “Same as before. Do hurry.” The waiter couldn’t get away fast enough. When Iain caught the look of disappointment in Brynn’s eyes, he sighed. “You’re not going to give me another lecture, are you?”

“Since that’s technically why I’m here, yes. Let’s brainstorm and come up with a solution to your grouch factor.”

“Grouch factor?”

She nodded. “Yeah, you’re very grouchy. Do you have low blood sugar?”

“No, I have a rock-hard tallywacker. If you did something about that, I’d be in a much better mood, I assure you.”

She pursed her lips, all huffy and disapproving. He even liked that side of her. Brynn might not have come out and said what she was really thinking, but she got her point across. And goddamn if he didn’t want to please her.

“How about we come up with a motto for you?” she asked.

“A motto?” Oh, bloody hell. “Fine, then. What did you have in mind?”

“
Be nice?
”

“Ah, that’s just fucking sad.”

She drummed her nails on the wood. “Okay, normally I wouldn’t say this. It’s not at all geared toward professional decorum, but I have a feeling it might resonate with you. You’re my Eliza Doolittle, Iain Chapman.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison. “Let’s hear it,” he said once he sobered.

“
Don’t be a dickhead
. When you’re about to snap at someone or fire them for no reason whatsoever, just think to yourself, ‘Is this something a dickhead would do?’ and if it is, think about your choices.”

Iain slanted his jaw to one side. “
Don’t be a dickhead
. I like it. It’s catchy. Back home, we’d say ‘don’t be a knobhead.’”

“I know. Both of my sisters married Brits.”

“Did they, now?” He already knew that, of course. And Iain didn’t want to talk about her in-laws. Made him feel guilty. Iain hated feeling guilty—bloody waste of time and emotion. Yet, that’s why she was here.

Brynn smiled. “You remind me a little bit of Allie’s husband, Trevor. The two of you would probably get along. You’re both very sarcastic.”

Yeah, that was definitely guilt he was experiencing. But now was his chance—the perfect time to ask for an introduction with Trevor. Still, Iain said nothing. The silence dragged on.

Soon, the waiter was back with appetizers and the sommelier poured the wine. The moment had passed, and he couldn’t bring it up now, not without sounding odd. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Iain had gone to all this trouble to meet Trevor Blake, and he’d just sat here like a twat, saying nothing.

When the sommelier looked at them expectantly, Iain
glared.

“I’m sure the wine’s fine,” Brynn said. “Thank you.” Then she kicked his shin. “Iain?”

He gritted his teeth. “Yes, thank you. Thank you for doing your job. For opening a bottle and pouring out wine. Well done, you.”

Brynn kicked him again, a little harder this time.

As the man slunk away, Iain frowned. He wasn’t upset with that bloke. He was angry with himself. A golden opportunity had presented itself, and Iain had let it slip through his fingers. Because of his feelings for Brynn. “If you left a mark on my trousers—”

“I see I’m going to have to get tough with you.”

Iain would have laughed out loud if she hadn’t been so earnest. She couldn’t get tough if her life depended on it.

“You were being a dickhead. A simple ‘thank you’ goes a very long way.”

“I pay that prat. And I’ll leave him a big, fat tip. Isn’t that thank-you enough?”

She sighed and shook her head. He’d disappointed her again. He hated that it bothered him, but there it was. Iain never cared what anyone thought, but he desperately wanted Brynn’s approval. Why was she so different?

“No, it’s not enough. Not everything’s about money, Iain.”

“It’s all about money, especially in this town. That’s what I like about it.”

“If you don’t treat people with dignity and kindness, it doesn’t matter how much you pay them.”

“Bullshit.”

She rubbed her lips together. “If you gain a person’s trust, they’ll respect you. Who taught you that fear is the same thing as respect?”

Memories, like snapshots, flashed through his mind. His drunk father, smacking his mum about, yelling at the top of his lungs, cursing, using intimidation to get his way. Iain never respected that old man. Hated him, more like.

But Iain was nothing like his dad. The only thing they had in common was DNA. Iain may not pat people on the hand and tell them how bloody wonderful they were, but he didn’t mistreat them. He didn’t abuse them.
Then what would you call it, mate?
Treating employees like bloody fucking grown-ups, that’s what.

The waiter returned, setting plates of pecan-encrusted chicken in front of them. Iain nodded. That was all the thanks the bloke would get. Iain was bored with discussing this particular subject with Brynn, and he was tired of her tedious lectures.

“After lunch,” he said, “I’ll take you to the property I’m going to buy. Right now, it’s a boarded-up building, but I want to turn it into luxury apartments. You can stick with me for the rest of the afternoon, offer me a few leadership tips or what have you.” Though it was rubbish, all of it. Brynn was wasting her talents on this nonsense, but after she made a point of telling him how disrespected she felt, he couldn’t say a word.

He and Brynn sat in silence for a few minutes. Iain longed to drag his phone from his pocket and complete a few tasks. Yet out of consideration for Brynn, he refrained.

It never ceased to amaze Iain what a man would do for a bird. He was putting his business on hold in order to impress her. Iain used to make fun of Marc. When his mate met Melanie two years ago, she’d had him by the short hairs from the start. Look at the poor sod now—Marc was twisted in knots. Was Iain heading down the same path? God, he hoped not. And yet here he was,
not being a dickhead.
He hoped Brynn appreciated the effort.

She glanced up and caught him staring. “What?”

“You’re fucking gorgeous. You know that?”

She looked down at her plate, uncomfortable with his blunt speech. Well, she needed to grow accustomed, because Iain might modify his habits around her, but he wasn’t changing. Not for her, not for anyone. Coming from less than nothing, Iain had done all right for himself. He didn’t need to change.

Brynn laid down her fork. “What you said earlier, about my boss—is the business really going under?” Her mouth tilted downward as she chewed on her bottom lip.

“She’s ass deep in debt. Has taken out two mortgages on her house. She’s months behind in office rent. She’s a disaster.”

“Cassandra is very disorganized. I’ve been asking about an assistant for the last year. She has enough work coming in. I don’t get it.”

“Some people are just bad with money. Look at where you live, pet. Vegas is filled with people who’ve crapped out. Busted and broke, they keep going back for more. You know that.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t just about Cass. What about my friend, Paige? She just bought a house. Or Brandon and his peanut allergy? Burly Ted and Lori the receptionist? What are they supposed to do if Cass tanks the company?”

“Being honest, it’s probably not a case of if but when.” He threw his napkin on the table. “My offer still stands. I’ll buy it, you can run it. Or better yet, I’ll find someone else to head it up, and you can come work for me.”

Brynn’s left brow lifted slightly. “As what, the office concubine?”

“If you were a concubine, you’d be mine. And make no mistake, Brynnie, no one touches what’s mine.”

Her eyes darkened to a deep, troubled blue—the same color as the sea, right before a storm. Davy’s parents had taken them all to Colwyn Bay on a caravan holiday. Iain never forgot how gusts of wind had churned up the water as the waves had crashed toward the pier. That’s what Brynn’s eyes reminded him of right now.

“In case you’re not aware, that was a dickhead thing to say.” She was becoming bolder with him. Iain rather liked it.

“Too right. I’m only getting the hang of this, love. I’ve been a twat me whole life. I freely admit it. Don’t expect that to change in five minutes.”

That appeared to appease her. She took a deep, steady breath and inclined her head. “You’re right. Change doesn’t happen overnight.”

“You know,” he said, dropping his voice, “I’m still thinking about shoving everything off my desk, hiking up that long skirt of yours, and shagging you silly. You could head my HR department during the day and play concubine in our off hours.”

Brynn swiped her pink tongue across her upper lip while she fidgeted in her seat. She liked that idea. Brynn had thoroughly enjoyed that wee bit of domination last night. At first, Iain had wondered if he’d pushed her too far, but he’d quickly discovered the truth. Brynn liked to be taken in hand and controlled.

“Don’t you already have one of those?” She closed her eyes for a second. “An HR person, I mean.”

“I’d find him another position. A lateral move.”

“People aren’t pawns, Iain. And anyway, I can’t leave Cass. Her cat’s been sick and her boyfriend…the whole retarded ejaculation situation, changing his relationship status without telling her—she’s a hot mess. If the business went under, Cass would lose everything. More importantly, if TDTC folds, everyone in that office is going to suffer.”