Trapped with the Tycoon

by Jules Bennett

  “So you would sneak in here and read dirty books?” he asked.

  “They weren’t dirty. They were sweet, and now that I know how life really is, I see why they’re labeled as fiction.”

  Yeah. Definitely bitter.

  He scanned the rest of the area. There were a few empty shelves along one wall, a door on the other and absolutely nothing of use for him in here. Except for the bundles of information he’d just gathered on Zara.

  “That concludes the tour,” she stated. “Not as exciting as you thought, right?”

  Braden shifted the kitten to his other arm, careful not to wake him. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I got to cop a feel. I wouldn’t call this venture a total loss.”

  For a second she said nothing, then she reached out and smacked his shoulder. “You’re a smart-ass.”

  Braden wanted to see that smile she offered. He craved it. Knowing he pulled her from those past thoughts with his snarky comment and put her in the here and now with a laugh was exactly his intent.

  “Why don’t you show me the other hidden rooms, and I’ll see what other smooth moves I can come up with?” he suggested, which earned him a light right to the face. Squinting, he shielded his eyes with his free hand. “All right, I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Turning away, Zara pushed open the door to the kitchen. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she muttered.

  * * *

  Nothing. He’d not found a damn thing that indicated where the scrolls were. He didn’t even know if they were all together at this point. At one time there were nine, stored in the infamous trunk that now sat in his office as if to mock him on a daily basis. They could be long gone, but Braden refused to give into that line of thinking, because if they were gone, he had absolutely nowhere to look. They had to be here.

  Before they’d headed back up to the bedroom, Zara had stepped out the back door and plucked some cheese and fruit out of the snow. She pulled a loaf of bread from the cabinet and got a few bottles of water.

  Now they were sitting in the floor in front of the fire having a gourmet lunch while the kitten roamed around the room. Occasionally he would come back, rub against Zara as if to make sure she was still there, then he’d roam a little more.

  “Is he going to pee on my things?” she asked, popping a grape into her mouth.

  Braden shrugged. “Maybe, but I found a box in your kitchen and brought it up. Put a towel or something over there and he’ll be very happy. Cats love boxes.”

  “Really?”

  Nodding, he tore off another hunk of cheese. “Trust me on this. Granted, he’s still a kitten, so he’ll stick close to us, or you as the case may be, but once he gets comfortable here, that box will be his new home.”

  Zara stared as the kitten snuck beneath her bed. “I’d rather he find a new home.”

  “Aww, now don’t be like that with your new best friend.”

  By the time they’d devoured the assortment, Zara leaned back and stretched her arms high above her head, pulling her sweatshirt up just enough to draw his gaze down to her creamy skin and the slight roll over the band of her pants.

  “I wish the electricity would come back on,” she stated, dropping her arms, oblivious to the knots in his gut. “I have so much work to do. My laptop may only have a couple hours left of charge.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “I have an event scheduled for a client in four weeks. I need to adjust some things on the spreadsheets and set up another schedule for an event I’m working on for a bridal party.” Zara started picking up the garbage and bundling it all in the empty bread sack. “Plenty of work to do with no Wi-Fi, but I’m going to get backed up if I can’t get some emails done in the next few days.”

  Braden listened to her talk of the event scheduled a week before his next party. Zara was efficient, and the passion for her work came through in her tone. She definitely was career driven, but was that all there was to her life? He’d not heard her mention friends and he knew there was no boyfriend. He’d never met a woman who remained so closed off on a personal level.

  “Why don’t you work?” he suggested. “I’m going to head to my car, charge my phone and turn it on to make some calls.”

  He needed to check in with Ryker to see if he’d located the missing art piece in London. Then he needed to see if Mac was stuck at the main house, most likely since Mac’s flight back to Miami would’ve been canceled with this weather. Braden would have to call his sister, too, because...well, he worried about her even though she hated her older brothers fussing over her.

  Hopping to her feet, Zara nodded. “Yeah. I need to do something. I’m not one to sit still and do nothing. After I draft my emails I’m grabbing a shower.”

  “With cold water?” he asked.

  She smiled down at him. “I have a gas hot water heater.”

  His eyes raked over her body, and the very last thing he needed was an image of her naked, soapy and wet body with only a thin door separating them.

  Rising to stand before her, he took the trash from her hands and headed for the bedroom door. “I’ll be in my car for a while. I’ll throw this away on my way out.”

  He left the room before he would give into temptation and join her in the shower. He needed to let Mac know that, so far, nothing had turned up. This house was damn big, but the secret hidey-holes were literally bare, save for the yellow chair and romance novel.

  After throwing away the trash and bundling up, Braden tried to get through the mounds of snow to his car. There was no way to get there without soaking his feet once again because the snow was up to his knees; but he needed to check in, and once the engine warmed up, he could put the heater on full blast.

  Most likely his battery would’ve been fine to talk inside the warm house, but he couldn’t risk Zara overhearing his conversations.

  Powering up his phone as he slid behind the wheel and tried to ignore his freezing wet feet, Braden watched as seven texts popped up on his screen. Mac had sent two, and the other five were from a frantic Laney asking if he was all right.

  He decided to call her first because an angry woman, especially an angry Irish woman who happened to be his sister, was not someone he wanted on his bad side.

  “You better be in a ditch with little cell service,” she answered.

  Braden laughed. “Not quite in a ditch, but I’m stuck at a friend’s house and the electricity is out.”

  “What friend?” she asked, skepticism dripping from her voice.

  “You don’t know her.”

  “Her? So you’re shacking up and can’t return my texts? I had you lying in a ditch bleeding and with the roads closed, and no one saw you and you’d died all alone.”

  Braden pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I assure you, I’m fine, and I’m not shacking up. To be honest, I’d feel better if I was.”

  Laney laughed. “Whoever she is, I want to meet her. Someone has you in knots. I like her already.”

  He wasn’t in knots. Really, he was completely knot free and in total control. Just because he’d had to physically remove himself from the house since Zara was going to shower didn’t mean he couldn’t keep his wits about him.

  “I’m at Zara’s, okay?” He tried to keep his tone level so she didn’t read any more into what he was saying. “I was worried about the roads, so I offered her a ride home. On the way, I got pulled over by a deputy and was informed there’s a level two snow emergency on the roads and I was to stay put. So here I am.”

  “Aww, poor baby. Stuck in a house with a beautiful woman. Don’t think I didn’t see you two dancing at the party. And great job getting into the house, by the way. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had some weather god on your payroll, as well.”

  “Yeah, I’ve turned up nothing. But
I’m not done yet. I’m hoping to loosen Zara up enough to get her talking. She may not even realize she knows something useful.”

  “You sound crankier than usual,” Laney mocked. “No scrolls, no sex. I hope you’re not acting like a bear toward your hostess.”

  Cranking the heat up, Braden dropped his head back against the seat. “Now that you know I’m alive and sexually frustrated, can we be done with this call?”

  Laney laughed even harder. “Only because I love you am I letting you off the hook. Don’t think I won’t be discussing this with Mac.”

  “I’ve no doubt you’ll do so as soon as we hang up,” he muttered. “Are you okay? You’re home?”

  “I’m fine. Carter stayed over last night, which was a good thing because I couldn’t get my generator started.”

  Well, at least Carter was good for one thing, but Braden still considered Laney’s boyfriend a prick.

  Braden bit his tongue, because if Carter kept treating his sister as if she should be thanking him for a relationship, Braden was going to step in. He’d seen too many times how Carter would act as if he was doing Laney a favor by being with her. He’d even hinted once that she’d be lonely without him. No way in hell would Delaney O’Shea be lonely. She was gorgeous, she was successful and she was a member of the most powerful family in Boston. They were never alone.

  He said his goodbyes before he said something that would drive a wedge between them. He’d much rather deal with Carter on his own terms. But, at least the guy had been there during the storm, and his sister was safe. Braden would keep that in mind when he actually confronted him...and that day was coming sooner rather than later.

  Braden turned the heat down, now that he was thawed out and his feet weren’t so chilled. He quickly dialed Mac, only to get his voice mail.

  “Hey, man. I’m stuck at Zara’s house, little cell service. I’ll call back when I can, but nothing has been found yet.”

  He disconnected the call and stared back at the house. He wondered just how long he’d have to sit out here to avoid seeing her glowing, damp body from the shower all under the pretense of letting his phone charge. He had plenty of charge to go back in, but he figured he’d let it fill up.

  He needed to keep a little distance from her because he was having a hard enough time controlling this ache. He didn’t like the unfamiliar need that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

  No need in going back in just yet, because he knew without a doubt that once he saw Zara partially nude again, there would be nothing holding him back.

  Eight

  Feeling refreshed after her shower, Zara found another pair of sweats and fuzzy socks. More armor to fight off the sexy man with seduction on the brain.

  Okay, fine. Sex was on her mind, too, but she couldn’t let herself settle too far into that part of her brain because, honestly, the sex she’d had with guys in the past had just been...meh. And she wasn’t about to risk her job on some mediocre moment. Besides, if they had sex now, what if he was stuck here for two more days? Seriously. Talk about a new level of awkward. Added to that, would he expect a replay? Was he a one-and-done man?

  Zara groaned as she took out her frustrations by towel-drying her hair. Why was she overanalyzing this? She wasn’t shedding her fleece, no matter what tricky moves he put on her.

  Zara hung her towel on the knob of her closet door. No way was she going back out to the bathroom. While the water had been nice and hot, the room itself was an icebox. There was no master bath in this house, but the bathroom was right outside her bedroom door. Still, given she was damp and her hair was still drying, that would make for one cold walk.

  Grabbing her brush from the dresser, she took a seat on her bed and crossed her legs as she pulled her hair over her shoulder and started working out the tangles at the bottom.

  That kitten darted out from beneath her bed, and Zara just knew that thing was making a litter box out of the space. Once again the bundle of fur slid against Zara’s ankles and feet, purring as he went. Even though she’d never had an animal, she honestly didn’t mind that it was in her house. She may not have a clue how to care for a pet, but she didn’t want the thing outside freezing to death. Okay, and maybe she kind of liked knowing something was looking to her for care and support. She didn’t necessarily love it, but she had a kernel of like.

  The bedroom door opened as Braden came sliding back in. Immediately he went to the fire and peeled off his wet socks once again. Zara sighed, tapping the brush against her thigh.

  “Why don’t you go hop in the shower and warm up your feet? And when you’re done, I’ll give you a pair of my socks. They’re small, but they’re warm and dry.” When he didn’t say anything, he merely turned and stared at her, she went on. “Maybe stop going outside. Whatever you need, I can go. I at least have taller boots.”

  Raking a hand through his hair, Braden strode back out the door. Apparently he was taking her up on the shower. But what had happened in the time he’d walked out until now? He seemed quiet, wouldn’t quite look her in the eyes. Something was wrong.

  The O’Sheas were mysterious and closed off, so she’d never know. But she didn’t want him upset or angry. It was freezing, they were stuck. Oh, yeah, and sexually frustrated. That made for a nice combo.

  While he was gone, Zara got an idea and snuck out to the kitchen. Finding exactly what she needed, she raced back up to the bedroom. The shower was still running, so she had time to set up. Apparently he’d found towels and was making himself at home. Granted, all she had were floral specialty soaps, but she’d not exactly prepared for male guests.

  Zara moved the chaise back closer to the wall to open up the middle of the floor. She settled down, crossing her legs and had the necessary items in front of her just as Braden came back in...wearing only a towel.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

  Without a word, he crossed the room and laid his clothes out in front of the fire. “Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of throwing on different clothes. I’ve been wearing these since yesterday morning.”

  She glanced over and seriously wished she hadn’t. Were those...yeah. He was a black boxer brief man. No tighty-whities for this alpha male...and seeing his underwear made it crystal clear he was commando beneath that terry cloth.

  Braden cleared his throat, and she realized he’d turned and was staring at her. Great. Way to really hold her ground about not getting intimate when she’s caught staring at the man’s underwear.

  “What’s this?” he asked, motioning down to her stash.

  She ignored the items she’d brought up from the kitchen and continued to stare up at him as if having a conversation wearing only a towel were perfectly normal.

  “So you’re going to be like this until your clothes dry?” She motioned with her finger up and down his body.

  Clutching one side of the towel over one very muscular, very exposed thigh, Braden shrugged. “I can lose the towel, but I thought you’d be more comfortable like this.”

  Zara rolled her eyes. The man was proving to be impossible to resist, and she truly didn’t know how much longer she could hold out.

  “I’m comfortable with your clothes on,” she muttered. “Anyway, I thought we could play cards, and since I’m not one to gamble, I brought up pretzel sticks we can use instead.”

  He quirked a brow. “You play poker?”

  Zara laughed. “You didn’t know my grandmother. That woman could outwit the best of the best when it came to seven-card stud. She taught me how to play when I was still learning how to write my name.”

  Braden quirked his brow, then headed over to the chaise and pulled off the blanket she used to sleep with. He wrapped it around his waist and sank to the floor in front of her.

  That bare chest with dark hair and just a bit of ink showing
over his shoulder held her captive, and she would have to concentrate on this game if she wanted to control her urge to rip that blanket and towel from his deliciously sculpted body.

  “Can you play?” she asked, pulling the cards from the box.

  Piercing eyes held hers. “I can play whatever game you want.”

  Of course he could, and he could make everything sound sexual with that low, intense tone that had her stomach doing flips.

  When she offered the cards to him to shuffle, he waved a hand. “Ladies first.”

  Shuffling them with quick, precise movements, Zara finally felt comfortable. Cards was something she could handle, something she could somewhat control. A hobby of hers from long ago, she hadn’t played for a while, but she needed the distraction, and there was only so much they could do stuck in this room.

  “What’s the ante?” he asked, tearing open the bag of pretzels.

  “Your choice.”

  “Ten.”

  Zara dealt their first hand while he counted out twenty pretzel sticks for each of them. As soon as she laid down the door card, she smiled when his was lower than hers.

  “Your bet,” she told him.

  He smirked. “I’m aware of the rules.”

  “Just making sure you know you’re dealing with a professional.”

  There. Maybe if she kept throwing verbiage out like that, he wouldn’t be so determined to cross territory they could never return from.

  Braden raised the bet, but Zara didn’t think he had anything worth raising for. She’d call him on his bluff. He had a poker face, that was for sure. No doubt he’d used that same straight, stoic look in the business world. As the oldest son of the late Patrick O’Shea, Braden had big shoes to fill, and being the powerful man he was, he’d have no problem at all, Zara knew.

  By the time the last card was dealt, Zara was looking at a full house with aces on top. Not the best hand, but still better than whatever he was lying about.

  “I’ll raise you,” she told him, throwing in three more sticks.