His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit)

by Terri Austin

  Once in Cass’s office, Brynn shut the door while her boss positioned herself behind the cluttered desk. Brown stains covered papers that hadn’t been moved since Monday’s coffee disaster. The binders were still haphazardly spread across the floor. What on earth did she do in here all day?

  Cass’s hair was loose, and static made the baby-fine curls shoot out from her head like filaments. White cat hair coated her black blouse, leaving it fuzzy. “I wanted to thank you for your kind words last night. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching, and I realized something very important. I’m not perfect, Brynn.”

  Oh, Cass. “Glad I was there for you.”

  “But I’m a damned good woman,” she continued, as if Brynn hadn’t spoken. “I have a lot to offer some special man, one who can ejaculate in a timely fashion.”

  Brynn found herself nodding. “Of course you do.” She began backing toward the door. “You hang in there, Cass. Your special man is out there.”

  “Wait, that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know what you did yesterday, and frankly, I don’t care.”

  Yesterday? Brynn cast her mind back over the day’s events. Iain. She’d nearly had sex with Iain. “I…I was working. Like always.”

  “You must have been. I didn’t think you had it in you, kiddo, but kudos, Brynn. Kud. Ohs.” Cass shoved aside a six-inch stack of papers, knocking over a pencil holder in the process.

  Brynn stepped forward and, kneeling, picked up the pens and pencils. Keeping her eyes on the floor, her mind raced. What the hell had she done yesterday? Sent off a proposal to the savings and loan, finalized a cartoon for the dry cleaner, and conferenced in with the marketing people to run an ad in the paper. She shoved the pencil holder back on the desk.

  Standing, Brynn settled her bag back on her shoulder. “Um, thanks?”

  “Mr. Chapman was very impressed with you. Very. Impressed.”

  Iain. What was he up to now? “I’m not sure why. We didn’t really get very far.” Unless being held down while getting fingered counted. Stop going there. Mind on something else.

  “Nevertheless, he wants his people to take a course in accountability and efficiency. He’s given us carte blanche to create a specialized, intensive course for his core employees.”

  Panic raced through Brynn. He was clearly doing this in a bid to see her again. He was so freaking manipulative. “What does this mean for me, exactly?”

  Cass threw her hands in the air. “You need to study his business firsthand. Talk to all of the employees and assess Mr. Chapman’s needs.”

  Brynn already knew his needs. They actively involved his penis. “But that could take weeks.”

  Cass sat back, a smug smile on her bright orange lips. “It could take months if you do it right.”

  Iain Chapman didn’t want training for his employees. He thought her job was bullshit. He was pushing his way into her life once more. And Brynn, being Brynn, would let him. He was a control freak. A man determined to get his own way. It probably wasn’t even personal with him—he just didn’t like being thwarted.

  After taking a breath so deep she became light-headed, Brynn blurted out, “No, I won’t do it. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  Cass’s mouth fell open. She stared at Brynn for a full minute. “I beg your pardon?”

  Brynn realized what she’d just said—the dreaded word that always eluded her. Now she gathered all of her courage and repeated it. “No.”

  Cassandra rose. “Brynn, we’re talking tens of thousands of dollars here. Months’ worth of work.”

  Brynn opened and closed her fists, forcing her feet to remain in place when all she wanted to do was hightail it out of there and hide in her own office. “I know. But I’m too busy. I’m way behind on work as it is. I can’t. I…I won’t.”

  Scooting out from behind her desk and scuttling between stacks of folders, Cass moved toward her. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you have to take this job.”

  Brynn needed to stick to her guns on this. Iain was a man hell-bent on seduction. But Brynn’s libido was directly linked to her heart. She was afraid of falling so deep and so hard that she’d never dig herself out. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “TDTC needs all the income we can generate right now.”

  That sounded ominous. “Is the company in trouble?”

  “Not exactly, but sort of.” Cass placed two fingers against her temple. “Office rent is increasing, and we’ve already tapped out our existing clients. This is an important job. There is no one else, Brynn. Iain Chapman only wants you.”

  That summed it up. Iain wanted her. You want him, too. Yeah, but she had a stack of reasons why this wasn’t a good idea. And the mother of all orgasms that says otherwise. She silenced that annoying voice that always told the truth whether Brynn wanted to hear it or not, and today—not.

  Brynn gazed into Cass’s eyes to try and gauge if the other woman was lying. The look of worry clouding her pale features was real. “Cass, I literally don’t have time for this.”

  Cass’s eyes hardened the way they sometimes did. “I’m not asking. I’m telling. You will do this for me, and you will get the rest of your work done. It’s not up for discussion.”

  Brynn flinched.

  Rubbing a hand across her stomach, she realized she was going to have to face Iain after all. She didn’t have a choice in the matter. But that argument rang hollow, mainly because Brynn’s heart was pounding like crazy at the thought of seeing him again. Of smelling that yummy cologne and staring up into his warm, brown eyes. Oh, this was bad. She was starting to develop real feelings for Iain Chapman.

  Cass cleared her throat and forced a smile, flashing a smear of orange lipstick on her front tooth. Brynn let her bitchy side take the fore and didn’t mention it. “Sorry. I’m just feeling stressed right now because of Michael. Nef’s not feeling any better either. Look, I don’t want to argue. I just want you to do your job.”

  Brynn reined in thoughts of Iain and focused on Cass. “I hope you’re serious about getting an assistant. I can’t keep up this pace anymore.”

  “You do this for me, and we’ll get you some help.”

  Brynn wanted to believe her, but she was skeptical. Last night, Monica had reminded Brynn how much Cass took advantage of her. Honestly, Brynn was tired of it, tired of being taken for granted, of being manipulated. She needed to fight for herself. Somehow, thinking of her sisters, of Iain, gave her the courage to start now. “I want a time frame, Cass. When are you going to place an ad for an assistant?”

  “After this job is through. You create a customized curriculum for Blue Moon Corp., and I’ll keep my end of the bargain. You are such a fabulous employee and a real friend. I’m glad you’re here as my right-hand woman.” She grabbed hold of Brynn’s left hand and squeezed.

  With a sigh Brynn felt all the way to her toes, she nodded. “Okay.”

  Cass brightened. “Great. Mr. Chapman wants to see you this morning. Off you go.” She dropped Brynn’s hand and waved her off with a shooing gesture. Brynn turned to go, but as she grabbed the door handle, she glanced back. “Cass. You’ve got lipstick on your teeth.”

  “Oh.” She reached in her drawer for a compact. “Thanks for telling me. What would I do without you, Brynn?”

  Walking out of the office, Brynn found Paige waiting for her. “Well, what did she want?” she whispered. “I know you’re not fired—you’re too valuable.”

  Brynn headed across the room with Paige trailing behind. When Brynn caught a few questioning glances from the sales team, she lowered her eyes and slipped into her office. Paige crammed herself in the tiny space and shut the door.

  “That guy who kept calling yesterday, he wants me to personally assess and train his employees.” Brynn dropped into her chair, her shoulders slumping forward.

  “What about all your other work?”

  “I’ll have to keep coming in on weekends u
ntil she hires an assistant.”

  Paige scoffed. “When will that be?”

  “When I finish this job. If she doesn’t follow through, I’m going to have to issue an ultimatum.” Confront Cass or get a pap smear? Damn, that was a hard one.

  Paige perched her butt on the edge of Brynn’s desk. “Tell her to go fuck herself. You’re too talented for this place, Brynn.”

  “I can’t just leave her in the lurch, and this guy asked for me specifically.”

  “What’s his hotness factor?”

  “He goes to eleven.”

  “Good. At least you’re getting some eye candy out of this situation. And you are not coming in on the weekends—I forbid it. Call me later. I’ll take a rain check on the sushi.” She pushed off the desk, and as she retreated from the office, she left the door open.

  Ted poked his head into the room as Brynn gathered her things. “Hey, Brynn, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Did you have time to put together a proposal for the savings and loan place?”

  She glanced up. “Yeah, I sent it out yesterday.”

  He pointed his finger like a gun and winked. “Thanks, Brynn. You’re the greatest.”

  No, she was the weakest of the herd. Easy pickings. The runt. Now, for more practical matters: How was she going to handle Iain? Maybe if she simply pretended like last night never happened, she might make it through the day. Brynn was really good at ignoring things she didn’t want to face. It was one of her few real talents.

  On her way out the door, Peanut Allergy Brandon parked in front of her. “Hey, Brynn, I’ve been meaning to ask you, could you send out an email blast for me? I just don’t have the time. I can shoot you a list of my clients. Thanks.” He tossed out a grin and walked off without waiting for an answer.

  Taking a deep breath, Brynn called after him, “Brandon?”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  “I’d like to, but I’m really swamped right now.”

  “Me too.” He took three steps toward her. “If I don’t make my quota this month, I’m afraid Cass will give me the ax. I’m trying to hustle up a few new clients this week, and hopefully, I’ll get a nibble. Plus, everyone’s pissed off at me because of the peanut thing.”

  Brynn felt herself nod. “Yeah, okay. No problem.”

  Chapter 8

  Iain tapped his fingers on the armrest. Why wasn’t she here? Surely her boss wouldn’t let Brynn back out, not with all the money he’d thrown at the Delaney woman. Given her free rein, he had. All he asked for in return was Brynn.

  She’s not a bargaining chip, you wanker. Maybe not, but she was a runner, and after what happened last night, Brynn would talk herself out of seeing him again. She liked avoiding uncomfortable situations. Well, too bad. Iain wasn’t letting her off that easily. There was something between them, something he’d never felt before. Hunger, longing—yeah, of course, but Brynn stirred up emotions inside of him, a yearning for more than just another shag. Yes, the Trevor business was still forefront in his mind, but Iain’s personal feelings for Brynn were becoming equally as important. That’d never happened before, and though he felt slightly disturbed by it, Brynn Campbell was a temptation Iain didn’t want to resist.

  He glanced at his phone screen again. He’d give her fifteen more minutes. If she wasn’t here by then…he’d go fetch her.

  When the office door opened, Iain automatically stood. But it was only Marc. Disappointment had him flopping into his seat once more. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Marc walked farther into the room. “Ouch, mate. That almost hurt my feelings. Sorry I wasn’t here for our breakfast meeting. Melanie had me up half the night.”

  “Nice one.”

  Marc rolled his eyes. “I wish. She wanted to talk. All bloody night. Which is fine, but that’s not what they mean is it? When women say they want to talk, what they mean is they want you to talk. But you never have the right answers.”

  “So what answers did you get wrong?”

  “The future. Marriage. When? Where? How many kids?” Marc fell into the guest chair. “Who am I then, Mystic Meg? I’m not a bloody psychic.”

  “Seems rather simple to me,” Iain said. “She wants to get married. All women do, at one point or another.”

  “But it’s not simple at all, is it?” Marc dragged a hand through his long, untidy hair.

  “It really is, mate.”

  “I’m not equipped to be a father, you know that.” Marc’s own dad took off while his mum was pregnant. She’d eventually popped out three more children by three different men, none of whom stuck around.

  Iain removed the dice from his pocket and rotated them in his hand. “Just because you never had one doesn’t mean you can’t be one. Davy’s dad was a good man.”

  “He was.”

  Iain glanced down at the red cubes. He’d worried the white pips off long ago and worn down the edges until they were smooth. “Seems fucked up, doesn’t it, that Davy’s not here and we are? Anyway, his dad was a good example to follow. Be like him, and you can’t go wrong.”

  Marc pulled a blue poker chip from his own pocket and tossed it in the air. “I miss him.”

  “As do I.” Davy had kept the dice and the poker chip in his pocket at all times—lucky tokens. Though they hadn’t done him much good. “What a bloody tragedy.” Thinking about his old mate threw a damper on Iain’s mood.

  “What about you?” Marc finally asked. “Think you’ll have kids one day?”

  “Don’t know. Doesn’t seem likely.”

  “You’re good with Tyler,” Marc said.

  “Well, he’s different, isn’t he?” Amelia’s boy was bright and engaging. Iain had become something of a Dutch uncle to the lad. “After kicking around the football a bit, I can send him home. Having one underfoot 24-7—don’t know about that.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, then Marc roused himself. “Made any headway with Trevor Blake?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why don’t you ask Brynn to set up a meeting? Shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “But it’s not simple at all, is it?” Iain repeated Marc’s earlier words.

  “Aw, shit.” Marc shoved both hands through his hair and kept them there—he must have been truly overwhelmed. “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

  Iain might have thought of it in those terms, but to hear Marc say it so bluntly struck him the wrong way. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what’s it like?” Marc dropped his hands, leaving his hair in disarray. He stood and began prowling the room. “Please tell me you’re not shagging her as part of some scheme. Please tell me you’re not using that girl’s feelings against her. Even you must have a shred of decency.”

  Iain stood as well. “Shut it. I’m not using her.” But Iain heard the lie for what it was. Yeah, he was using her. In a way. That’s why he’d hired her in the first place. Still, his feelings for Brynn were real. “I’m beginning to care about her.”

  With fists propped on his hips, Marc continued to walk the room. “But this isn’t meant to be personal. It’s business. You’ve always said never combine the two. It’s one of your axioms.”

  “Rules were meant to be broken, eh? I can have both. I can use her connections and still have a relationship with her.”

  Marc stopped pacing. “A relationship? That’s what you’re calling it? And no, you Muppet, you can’t have both. She’s going to find out this was a setup from the beginning, and it’s going to go tits up. She seems like a sweet girl. A smart girl. She’s going to get hurt, Iain.”

  “Not if I have my way. You worry about your own problems, and let me worry about mine.”

  “Your problems are my problems,” Marc said. “This affects us both, don’t it?”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Brynn stood in the doorway.

  Iain shot out of his chair and tugged on the bottom of his steel-gray waistcoat. How much had she heard? He searched her face, looking for traces of hurt,
of betrayal, but found none. Once he realized that Brynn was still oblivious, Iain sighed in relief and glanced over her once more.

  Brynn grew lovelier each time he saw her. Need. Desire. The words flashed through his mind as he stared at her.

  Today she wore a white blouse and a gauzy orange skirt. The shirt’s sleeves were short, showing off her trim, golden arms. His gaze trailed back up, over her slim hips, her small breasts, to the loose brown waves hanging freely around her shoulders. She was spectacularly unique in every respect.

  “Not interrupting anything, is she, Marc?”

  “Not at all. Good to see you again, Brynn.”

  “Would you like me to come back?” She directed her question to Marc. “Sounds like you were in the middle of something.”

  He smiled down at her. But not just any smile—no, the one he reserved for charming women out of their knickers. Tosser. “Please come in. Iain needs all the help he can get,” he said in a loud whisper. Then he smoothly buttoned his jacket and headed out the door.

  Now it was just the two of them. The only noise came from the ticking of an antique maritime clock. Some days its tick was reassuring, soothing even. Some days it drove him barmy. Today, it seemed overly loud as Brynn stood there, staring down at the Persian rug. She hadn’t looked at him once. Well, that wouldn’t do.

  Iain adjusted the knot in his tie and stretched his neck. This was not the way he’d wanted to greet Brynn this morning. Having words with Marc had thrown Iain off his game. He’d had it all planned out. She’d come in irritated, flustered—naturally—but he’d quickly soothe her, maybe even kiss her into a better frame of mind. But noting her tense jaw, the tendon flexing as she ground her teeth together, made him realize it might take more than a smile and a few kisses to pull her out of it.

  “Come in. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She finally met his gaze, and her eyes flashed blue fire. Irritation might be downplaying it a bit. She seemed rather even tempered most of the time, but Iain was beginning to suspect he was a catalyst for her anger, the spark that stoked a fire inside of her. Interesting, that. At least she wasn’t indifferent to him. “I’d like to get to work, if that’s all right with you?”