His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) Page 13

  “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.”

  “What the fuck is a retarded ejaculation?”

  “He can’t, you know, come.” She mouthed the last word.

  Iain’s brows slammed together. “So what, he just keeps pumping, but the well is dry?”

  “Sort of. I mean, he gets there eventually. Sometimes. That’s not the point. The business can’t fail. Too many people’s livelihoods are at stake. Besides, Cass would never sell. It’s her baby. It’s the reason she gets up in the morning. She loves TDTC. She’s just not very good at running it.”

  Iain stared at her, gobsmacked. “Your boss is telling you about her partner’s cock, and you call me inappropriate?”

  “Out of everything I said, that was your takeaway? And you are inappropriate. That’s not even up for debate. The fact that Cass tells me these things is a burden I don’t want. Nevertheless, I know every disgusting detail.”

  “So the next time she starts spouting off, tell her you don’t want to hear it.”

  She wagged her finger at him. “That’s really easy for someone like you.”

  “What do you mean, someone like me?”

  “You don’t care who you hurt. I do. I care very much about hurting people’s feelings. I’m still feeling terrible about insulting you this morning.”

  “When?”

  “In your office, Iain.” She threw up her hands. “I said some very unkind things to you.”

  He thought back. “When you said you hated me?”

  She grabbed the napkin and buried her face in it, nodding.

  Iain reached out and forced her hands down. “That was nothing. That was foreplay, right? I kind of liked seeing you get all cheeky. Turned me on a bit, I’ve got to admit.”

  “Does anything offend you?”

  Of course—disrespect, disloyalty, betrayal to name a few. “Not much, pet. But back to your business problems. What can you possibly do to help these people in your office? You’ve a soft heart, Brynnie, and it does you credit. But you can’t help everyone. In fact, you can’t even help yourself, love.”

  Chapter 10

  Ouch. Iain’s words stung. He was correct, but Brynn still felt the wound. And no, she couldn’t go around saving everyone, but she had to try.

  “I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I?” he asked.

  “I’m just too sensitive.”

  “You are. But it’s a quality I quite like in you.”

  “You see me as soft and weak. You don’t admire that. You’re all brass balls and grabbing life by the throat.”

  Iain pushed his plate to one side, leaned his forearms on the table, and angled his upper body toward her. “I grew up hard. I’m not ashamed of it. Yeah, you could toughen up a bit. Wouldn’t hurt you none.” As his accent became heavier, his consonants slurred. “But you’re a kind woman. Delicate. Tenderhearted.” He reached out and stroked her bare pinkie fingernail. “You’ve got quality, Brynn.”

  She smiled. “I come from nothing. I grew up in a dilapidated house in North Vegas. There’s nothing quality about me. The only thing of value I’ve ever had was my family.”

  His face became serious and a shimmer of tension threaded through his body, sending shock waves from his finger into hers. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again. You’re goddamned regal.” Suddenly, as if he remembered where he was, who he was talking to, the arrogant grin whipped back in place, along with that deep-creviced dimple. “If anyone tells you otherwise, send him my way.” Iain let go of her hand and pulled out his wallet. He dropped five one hundred dollar bills on the table. Then he stood. “Let’s go, yeah?”

  Brynn exited the booth and, standing next to him, placed her hand on his lapel. She felt the steady pump of his heart. Her hand rose and fell with each breath he took. “Thank you, Iain.”

  “For what? Telling you a few home truths?”

  “Yes. And for lunch. And for rehiring that hostess.”

  “You know my motives. I’m just trying to impress you.”

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself. But I think you’re quality, too, Iain Chapman.” She walked toward the entrance of the restaurant. When she glanced back, he was still standing there, a harsh expression molded over his features. “Are you coming?”

  Without another word, he caught up to her and placed his hand at the small of her back. His reassuring, warm touch ignited a fire inside Brynn’s belly that was growing into a steady flame. While her sensible brain yelled for her to beat feet to the nearest exit, Brynn’s heart fluttered and skipped every single time he grazed her skin.

  As they waited in the front of the casino for his car to arrive, Brynn squinted at the bright sun. The warm wind picked up her curls and she held them back from her face.

  “How come you don’t drive?” she asked when the car pulled up.

  “A service is more efficient. Driving is a waste of time when I could be working.”

  She climbed in, and he took his spot next to her, pressing his leg against Brynn’s thigh. She should have moved away, but instead, she stayed put. Being this close—smelling him, touching him, even through layers of clothes—was heady.

  “You know what they say about all work?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He gave her a side-eyed glance. “Makes you fucking successful.”

  “What does being successful mean? To you, personally?”

  He was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Having ‘fuck you’ money,” he finally said. “Rich enough so that I can tell any wanker to sod off and not have it bounce back on me.”

  “That’s it? Boatloads of money?”

  He took her fingers and placed them on his leg. Clamping down on her wrist, he slowly dragged her hand from his knee, up his leg. Toward his crotch.

  Brynn’s breath caught in her throat. What was he doing? She glanced at the closed partition between the seats, then to Iain’s face. The brown flecks in his eyes grew darker as he moved her hand closer to his dick. Of her own volition, Brynn splayed her fingers across his fly and spanned his erection.

  He guided her palm, easing it up and down his long, thick shaft. “Success is getting what I want. When I want it. Right now, Brynn Campbell, I want you so fucking much, I hurt.”

  Brynn’s brain sputtered out. Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, she heard the word she uttered so often: inappropriate. But since it sounded weak and distant, it was easy to ignore. Staring up into his face, taking in his shadowed jaw, his intense gaze, Brynn continued to slide her hand over his cock. With long, steady strokes, she applied pressure toward the head and eased up as she neared his scrotum.

  Iain let go of her hand and closed his eyes as a look of pleasure crossed his face. That was Brynn’s undoing. Nothing short of a six-car pileup would have kept her from continuing.

  “Unzip my pants,” he said, his voice ragged. “Now.”

  He used that
bossy tone that Brynn loved. She shifted slightly in the seat, leaning her body toward him, and eased the zipper downward. She took her time, felt the click of each metallic tooth pull apart as she lowered the tab.

  “Brynn.” It was torture for him. The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. His lips compressed into a thin line, and his jaw became rigid.

  He was allowing her to set the pace, she had no doubts about that. Yet if he ground out another order, she’d follow it without hesitation. Brynn was learning a few things about herself in this little adventure. It excited the hell out of her when he was forceful, but Brynn liked knowing that she wielded a sensual power over him, too.

  When the zipper reached its end and his fly gaped open, Brynn shifted her hand inside and stroked through his silky boxers. She glanced down, saw that they were navy this time. Her hand slicked right over them and down his cock.

  This was outrageous, fondling a man in the backseat during midday traffic. It was insane. It was wonderful. Excitement and nervousness caused her hand to shake. She could deny it all day long, but she loved this side of him. Loved that he could produce this level of arousal in her. For other people, groping in a car was probably tame stuff, but Brynn felt wild and out of control as her hand rested against his thick shaft.

  Iain sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth. “Stroke me again. Slowly.”

  Brynn complied, then slid her finger upward, through the slit in the boxers, skin on skin. She was touching him for real now, gliding her finger over that deliciously hard dick.

  Though Iain was calling the shots, for the first time, Brynn felt sexually confident. Touching someone, making love—it wasn’t something to fear. It was something to celebrate. The fact that Iain wanted her so badly boosted her self-esteem. This beautiful, biting, intelligent man wanted Brynn.

  Tilting her head, she dragged her finger over the head and behind the shaft so that she could pop it out of his shorts and have another good, long look. It was as impressive as she remembered. Two thick veins pulsed upward toward the glans, and there was a dewy bead of precome dotting the tip.

  Heart hammering against her ribs, Brynn peeked up at Iain’s face once more. Through tight, slitted eyes he peered down at her. His hands were clamped into fists on either side of his thighs. Brynn’s shy touch excited him. God, that was…humbling. Even as she watched his chest heave, her own breathing became stilted. Her pussy grew damp by touching him, by observing his uninhibited response. Knowing how much he wanted her, seeing the evidence of it, filled her with longing. This lust growing between them fed on itself. Pleasing him rebounded and amped her up, made her pulse flutter and her breasts tingle. She was every bit as aroused right now as she had been last night, when Iain had been stroking her.