The Tycoon's Secretive Temptress

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Brant might think that, if he allowed himself to. But he wasn’t. So he didn’t. “And her clothes! Damn, she…” he stopped, realizing where he was going.

  His brother’s eyebrows lifted higher with his comment. “You can’t really be irritated by the clothing she wears. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her clothes. They are similar to the outfits that every other woman in the office wears, although she prefers brighter, more dramatic colors.”

  Brant thought about it and, well, perhaps his brother was right. But the way Gianna wore her clothes was…different. Sexier! The woman carried herself in a way that…well, it was hot!

  “You don’t think…?” Brant started to say, only to stop himself.

  “I don’t,” Reid responded firmly before Brant could even finish the sentence. “Have you ever sat down and talked with her? She’s intelligent, funny, and incredibly charming.”

  Brant’s stance turned confrontational in a flash. “How the hell do you know that she’s charming?” Brant demanded, unconscious of the way his hands curled into fists at the thought.

  Reid laughed, shaking his head. Standing up, he patted his brother on the shoulder. “Seriously, brother, you have it bad. Gianna and Selena are really good friends. Gianna comes over for dinner pretty often and I find her completely charming. But not in the way that you’re assuming, so just back off before you take a swing at me and I have to hurt you.”

  Brant relaxed, relieved by that explanation. “As if you could,” he replied to his brother’s retreating back.

  “Give Gianna a break!” Reid called before disappearing into his own office. He reappeared in the hallway moments later and Brant knew that he was heading home to Selena, ready to enjoy his evening.

  Sighing, Brant thought about packing up and going home as well. But there wasn’t a beautiful woman waiting for him at home with a welcoming smile and dark, chocolate eyes. Just a big, empty house.

  “Hell, I should get a dog,” he muttered. Then shook his head. That wouldn’t be fair to the dog. He worked long hours and traveled often. Leaving the dog home along for that long would be cruel.

  A cat? No. Not fair to leave a cat alone for that long either, he told himself, thinking about Cat, the feline that had adopted Reid several years ago. That kitty needed more attention than a dog at times. And no way did he want the ‘gifts’ that Cat left on Reid and Selena’s doorsteps almost daily. The dead vermin were disgusting. Sweet because of Cat’s intentions, but gross.

  A fish? He wasn’t a big fan of fish. Some people thought they were interesting but the thought of cleaning their water regularly was just…

  He needed a woman. Brant thought of the several ladies he could call. Any of them would happily meet him somewhere for dinner, they could enjoy a bottle of wine, and he could spend the rest of the evening enjoying her company.

  And yet…the image of dark eyes flashing a challenge popped into his mind and he dismissed the idea of another woman. As he looked around his office, staring at the now-dark window, his disinterest in anyone other than Gianna irritated him because now she was distracting him from a night of pleasure.

  How could she get under his skin so easily? What was it about her that made him…!

  He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. Instead, he walked over to his desk and forced himself to focus on the numbers. Work would solve the issue, like it did every issue. And if Gianna was doing something unethical, if all of that paper hiding was an issue, he’d figure it out eventually. He’d just keep a close watch on her work and ensure that she didn’t steal any proprietary information that she could pass along to another company when she moved back to Italy after her time here in Denver was over.

  Chapter 3

  “Questo non funziona!” Gianna groaned. “Why are you messing me up?’ she demanded of the computer. “You no give me the answers I need!”

  A few more keystrokes and she lowered her head to her hands, trying to regain her scattered focus.

  It was Saturday morning and she was alone in the office. The silence was overwhelming, making her groans of frustration even more obvious.

  Looking back up at the computer screen, she accepted that she didn’t know how to get it to work properly. “One solution only,” she muttered with increasing irritation.

  Picking up the report, she carried it down the long, silent hallway. It might be Saturday, a time to be out in the world enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, but she knew that Brant would be here. He was always here, she thought with increasing trepidation.

  But as soon as she reached his office, the silence was complete. No Brant. “He is not here?” She stepped into his office. “Perche?”

  With a huff, she pulled out her cell phone and texted him. “Having problems. Why you not here at the office to help?”

  She stuffed her cell phone back in her pocket and headed to her office, determined to figure this problem out. If the great Brant Jones wasn’t here, then he was most likely doing something tediously boring and wouldn’t answer her text. The man could focus on something and lose track of the world, she knew.

  So she was startled when her phone vibrated. She read the reply. “Bring the reports to me. I’ll look them over.” And he sent her an address.

  Gianna’s heart rate sped up. Was this his home? Where he slept? Did he sleep in the nude? She pictured him sprawled across a bed, a sheet casually draped over his body and one muscular arm flung across his eyes.

  Her heart tripped over its feet at the thought of going to his house where he might, she hoped, sleep naked.

  And then reality came rushing back, crushing her dreams and banishing images of Brant naked. It probably wasn’t his house. And if it was, then he was working in his home office.

  Gianna snorted. “And you are here,” she pointed out to the silent room. “Why you not out enjoying the sunshine?” she asked of herself. “You tease him about having no life,” she grumbled, picking up her papers and laptop, stuffing everything into her leather tote. “And yet, you have no life now! You are becoming too American!”

  Gianna giggled at the possibility. “Only in my dreams!” she sing-songed as she left the silent office. The elevator appeared immediately since no one was around to call it to another floor. The speed with which the elevator brought her to the parking garage was unprecedented. Unfortunately, she wasn’t mentally prepared to see the man in question, even though she’d texted him for help. Telling herself she should have waited until Monday to ask for help, Giana flung her tote into the trunk of her hatchback. Asking for help in the office seemed normal. Brant providing that help in his home seemed much more…intimate!

  Punching in the address to her GPS, she wondered what his home office was like. Boring, she decided immediately. “No color,” she elaborated out loud, pressing the “Go” button that would initiate the directions from the car’s computer. “No color and no art. The man is like mud.”

  As she pulled out of the parking garage, following the directions from the GPS, Gianna laughed at her imagination. The man wasn’t mud. He was like a sculpture. A handsome, amazing sculpture that she wanted to run her hands over and discover why he was so cold and unfeeling. “The man is a macchina! A machine that runs on grouchiness!”

  It took her less than ten minutes to find the address. And even more shocking, as she pulled into the driveway, the man in question was not inside working in a dreary home office. In fact, he was in soft, well-worn jeans that rode low on his hips and a grease stained tee shirt that hugged his muscular arms, shoulders, and chest.

  Gianna sat in her car, the engine idling as she drank in the view. Never in her wildest imagination had she pictured Brant Jones in anything other than a pristine, tailored business suit. He often took the suit jacket off at work, even rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, but that was the extent of his relaxation. He never even loosened his tie during the work day.

  So seeing him, not only without the suit, but
with grease on his shirt and…on his jeans as well, everything inside of her throbbed with awareness. Awareness and…something else. Something terrifying.

  He watched her watching him, a dark eyebrow lifting in question as she continued to sit in her car. When she realized that she was making a fool of herself, she shook herself mentally. Shutting off the engine, she carefully stepped out of her car, unable to pull her eyes away.

  “You…” her eyes dropped to his hands. Just two days ago, she’d admired them. Now they were covered in grease and… “You are holding a… chiave inglese,” she snapped her fingers in frustration. “I know not the English word.”

  Brant looked down at his hand, lifting the tool up slightly. “A wrench?”

  Her eyes widened, her mind absorbing the word. “Yes. You…You know not how to use that, si?” she asked with breathless hope.

  He rolled his eyes. “Why would I be holding something I don’t know how to use?” he asked, walking over to one of those big, red tool boxes that were so massive, they rolled around on wheels. He grabbed a rag and started wiping the grease from the wrench first, then his hands.

  “What do you use that on, then?” she asked.

  He pointed the wrench to something behind him. “That.”

  Gianna followed the line of his arm and the wrench and gasped when she saw the massive motorcycle behind him. It wasn’t new. In fact, the beautiful machine looked rusty and old. “You are…” she looked up at him as she reverently walked over to the bike, “fixing this? No, no, that’s not right. What’s the word?”

  “Restoring it. Yes.” He moved over to it, running his hand along the chrome. “It’s a 1950s Triumph Classic. She was just sitting in a woman’s shed until about a year ago when I found it and bought it from her.”

  Gianna reached out to touch it, but jerked her hand back, looking up at him for permission. “May I?” she asked, awed by the beauty of the vintage motorcycle.

  “Of course,” he replied easily, moving to the other side of the bike.

  She reached out, running her fingers along the smooth lines. She bent down low, admiring the engine, and caressing the brittle leather of the seat. “This is beautiful, Brant. You on a bike,” she said, then shook her head. “I can’t see you there.”

  “You can’t picture me riding a motorcycle? Why? Do I not seem like a gear-head?”

  She turned, frowning at him in confusion over the new word. “Explain?”

  “A gear-head,” he teased, bending down to rub his thumb over one of the engine lines. “A guy who likes to work on engines.”

  Gianna was entranced by his thumb, the way it caressed the chrome and the lines so gently. Would he touch a woman with that kind of reverence? She thought not. He…she turned and caught him watching her.

  Like always, when he looked at her, her knees weakened, her heart pounded into overdrive.

  “Do you…” she looked up at him, then down at the motorcycle. “You don’t drive it, do you?” she sighed, longing to feel the power of the motorcycle. “You probably are going to display it in your living room, no?”

  For a long moment, Brant didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. He simply stared at her and she shifted uneasily, feeling as if she’d insulted him somehow. She wasn’t trying to insult him. In fact, just the opposite.

  “It isn’t a bad thing,” she blurted, feeling bad all of a sudden. “I mean…some people consider a bike like this a work of art.” She caressed the seat lovingly. Still silence and she wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. Truly,” she bowed her head slightly, trying to think of…

  A helmet appeared in her line of sight. She stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of it. When she looked up at him, he stood there, holding the helmet patiently.

  “Put it on, Gianna.”

  She licked her lips even as she accepted the helmet, her fingers digging into the soft cushioning of the interior. “Why?”

  He didn’t answer. He grabbed another helmet down from a shelf that she hadn’t noticed. He put on the helmet and handed her a jacket, then flung a leather jacket over himself. “You’ll need this too,” he warned.

  With a yelp of excitement, she held the helmet between her knees as she put the jacket on, zipping it all the way up. It was too big for her and had probably been left at his house by another woman, but Gianna didn’t care. Not one bit! She was going for a ride on a vintage motorcycle behind none other than Brant Jones! Who would have thought he had it in him?! Apparently, Selena had been right! Brant wasn’t the tedious, boring accounting type with a barren soul. He had a bit of oomph to him after all!

  He was already on the bike when she pushed the helmet down over her curls, tucking everything in before jumping on behind him.

  “Che emozione!” she whispered, trying to temper her excitement but it was an uphill battle. The motorcycle, along with Brant’s intoxicating presence, was overwhelming. As soon as he whipped the motorcycle pedal, revving the engine, she threw her head back, laughing with delight!

  Brant couldn’t believe what he was doing. Seeing Gianna outside the office was bad enough. As soon as she’d driven up in that sporty little roadster, he’d known that he was in trouble. Then she’d stepped out of the car in tight jeans and leather, high-heeled boots. Damn, she was a mighty fine looking woman! His blood was boiling with lust. Feeling her arms around his waist was…incredible! Even through the two layers of leather, he could still feel her breasts pressing against his back. And her legs on either side of his hips was making him want to turn around and pull her into him so he could make love to her, right there on the bike.

  Damn it, why had she shown appropriate appreciation for his bike?! Seeing her admiring eyes move over the classic bike with that awed look in her eyes, he’d just…well, done the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life.

  It was the comment about putting his bike on display. That had thrown him over the edge, he decided as he slowed for traffic on interstate twenty-four. Traffic was heavy this afternoon and the sun warm. The leather jacket and bike helmet were miserable in this kind of stop and go traffic but…

  He smiled, feeling her pull away from him. She was expecting him to weave in and out of traffic on the bike. Yeah, this traffic was annoying but…

  The car in front of him moved ahead and he knew that there was only one more exit before he could leave the city. The rest of the traffic would clear and they could speed up. Another break, another few feet, and then several cars in front of him exited. Finally, the road ahead cleared out.

  Brant heard as much as felt her sigh of boredom. Turning his head, he said, “Lean into me on the turns. It will help me balance.” He felt her nod, but she didn’t really hold onto him. Ready to teach her a lesson, he gunned the engine. Immediately, her arms grabbed hold of him again. He felt her press her breasts against his back. Grinning, he increased the speed and they both leaned into the wind.

  Yeah, this was what riding a motorcycle was all about. It was the open road, the mountains in the distance and a woman’s body against his. He felt Gianna’s breasts against his back and her inner thighs pressing against his legs. Damn, she felt good!

  Speeding up even more, he could literally feel her excitement even though he couldn’t hear anything beyond the wind and engine.

  Twenty minutes later, he turned off and headed towards the mountains. Winding mountain roads were a lot of fun. He’d never take these roads if it were raining or snowing. The bike wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of slick surface. But on a dry, sunny day like today? Yeah, this was perfect!

  Every turn, he felt her arms tighten around his waist, her hands flat against his stomach. It was both heaven and hell. He wanted to pull off to the side of the road, drag her into the forest and make love to her. Instead, he pushed the bike harder, turning into the curves and reveling in the power of the engine. Riding a bike wasn’t like driving a car. It was a more sensory adventure.
It was wind and curves and feeling the road in ways that a person just couldn’t do in a car.

  Having a woman like Gianna riding along with him only made the whole experience exponentially more vivid! After a while, he turned around and headed back to town. It was too much, he thought. He’d love to take her out to dinner and then bring her back to his place, make love to her until neither of them could speak. He suspected that Gianna would be an amazing lover. She was curious and excited about life, eager to explore.

  But he still didn’t trust her.

  Once he knew her motives, maybe they could…hell, he had no idea what might happen because he couldn’t figure her out. Something about her just didn’t fit, wasn’t right.

  So he headed back to town, back to his house. She’d come over for help with a report. This little adventure hadn’t been in the plan and he needed to get back to that plan.

  Pulling into the driveway, he shut off the engine, gritting his teeth in anticipation of her pulling away from him. But she didn’t. Her arms remained tightly wrapped around his waist. He enjoyed the warmth of her pressed against him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She lifted her head and pulled her arms away. “Yes!” she laughed. “Oh yes!” She dismounted gracefully. “That was amazing!”

  Gianna pulled her helmet off and shook her dark hair out, fluffing it with her fingers. “Thank you!” she laughed, dancing a bit as the adrenaline seeped through her bloodstream. “Oh, I like that bike!”

  He chuckled softly as he pulled his helmet off as well. “And no, I’m not going to display it in my living room,” he told her, answering the question she’d asked earlier.

  She giggled as she wiggled out of the borrowed jacket and his eyes were immediately drawn to the deep V of her soft, yellow sweater. He hadn’t noticed her sweater before, but it caused her skin to seem creamier somehow. He liked the color and the style, but he especially liked the way the material hugged her abundant breasts.