by Meg Ripley
As she traipsed towards the stables, trying valiantly to walk in heels that kept digging into the soil beneath her feet, a little yip drew her attention to the animal racing towards her and she did a double-take. Was that a wolf?
Horror skittered down her spine as she turned and ran the rest of the way into the stables, shrieking like a banshee from hell. She saw two men raise their heads in surprise to look up at her and, without stopping to think about it, Brooke flung herself straight into the arms of the taller man and wound her legs around his hips, safely out of reach of the animal.
“Who the hell are you?” the shorter man grated.
“It’s alright, Roy. It’s not every day a beautiful woman climbs right up my legs and into my arms,” the other man laughed good-naturedly.
Brooke didn’t have time to be embarrassed; she clung tighter to him, plastering her breasts against his chest as her eyes fearfully flew over her shoulders to the wolf. It wasn’t snarling anymore though, instead it was rubbing up against the legs of her ‘savior’ and almost purring.
What the hell?
“Isn’t that a wolf?” Brooke asked, her voice a little more than a petrified squeak.
The man chuckled as he gently unwound her long legs from around his narrow hips and urged her to her feet, “Shelby would be flattered. She’s a dog, not a wolf. She’s also a bully though; she sensed your fear which was why she chased after you.”
Brooke stared disbelievingly as the tall man stooped down to caress Shelby. She shifted, keeping as far out of reach of all that fur as she could. The ‘dog’ had to be at least part-wolf!
“I need to find Mr. Harding,” Brooke said.
“You've found him already, ma'am” the man quipped, looking over his shoulder and blasting her with the full force of his languorous dark eyes.
Brooke stared, her heart skipping a beat as she got her first good look at the man Collins had described as an ornery and eccentric oil tycoon. He had to be the most handsome man this side of the sun! He had a strong chiseled jaw, sexily tousled black hair, intense black eyes and sex appeal out the wazoo. If that wasn’t enough, he also happened to have deep slashing dimples in either cheek, so prominent they were on display whenever he moved his lips. His skin glistened with sweat from his work in the barn and his muscles bunched with every movement, revealing hard, sinewy strength, and a beautifully chiseled stomach. He was insanely hot and more than a little dangerous to any woman; worse, she suspected he knew it.
She swallowed. Dear lord, how was she supposed to get through two weeks beside this man?
****
“Sit down Ms. Jordan and let me know exactly what you need from me,” Tyler ordered a few minutes later as he led Brooke into what she immediately saw was his study.
His dark eyes clung to the womanly curves of her hips. She was a heart-wrenchingly beautiful woman and seemed completely unaware of her effect on men, himself included. Why, Roy had been unable to close his mouth the entire time they stood in the stables, which was why he had decided to take the meeting into his study before the other man embarrassed himself.
He himself had been tamping down his arousal ever since she had swept into the stable like a whirlwind and plastered herself all over him. He had felt every inch of her soft, pliant body and he had been hard as a rock before he had so much as gotten a good look at her face.
Innocently unaware of Tyler’s scrutiny, Brooke scanned the room, her experienced eyes immediately recognizing the perfect finish of the imposing Henkel Harris desk gracing one end of the room with an equally imposing chair planted behind it. Her heels sank into the thick Aubusson rug in the middle of the room as she deliberately crossed to slouch gratefully into the cushion beside the coffee table instead of the seat he had indicated in front of his desk. Several paintings lined the walls and she didn’t have to be an expert to know they were originals.
His black eyes tracked her progress, and when she looked up deliberately into his eyes, she was surprised to see a look of reluctant respect in his gaze.
“Mr. Harding, I have a lot of questions for you. I hope you have ample time because this could take quite a few hours,” she added.
“I thought you were supposed to be here for two weeks?” he asked, watching her intently, his gaze roving over her features as he lowered himself into the seat.
Brooke mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes, but if we can cover a lot of ground today, we’ll get rolling.”
He stared at her for a beat, then shrugged as he leaned back in his seat.
“Now, off the record, you never grant interviews to press of any kind. Why now? And why us?”
Tyler chuckled, the sound low and dark like chocolate. “Are you saying De Luxe is not good enough?”
“I’m just saying why did you suddenly decide to grant an interview, and for two weeks no less, after stonewalling for years?”
His hard firm lips canted to the side in a sexy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Try free positive publicity. Hardings’ Drilling didn’t get to the top by looking gift horses in the mouth. You, on the other hand, apparently never heard of gift horses Ms. Jordan--"
"Brooke," she cut in.
“Brooke,” he said slowly, drawing her name out and rolling it around on his tongue.
She tamped down on an inexplicable wave of heat and excitement that surged through her as he said her name. Suddenly nervous, Brooke’s tongue darted out to lick her lower lip and then her breath hitched in reaction as his eyes followed the tiny movement, rose to meet her own gaze, and then darkened with heat.
They both jerked their gazes away guiltily at the same time.
Silence reigned, thick and pregnant, and then Brooke deliberately steered them back to safer ground with a crisp, “Let’s talk about your family.”
“My family?”
Was it her imagination, or did he seem suddenly tense and guarded? Hostility was suddenly coming off him in waves.
“Yeah, remember them? Reclusive, beautiful, rich as sin and about as accessible as the moon? The Oil Hardings?”
His lips canted in that half-grin again, but this time, the smile reached his eyes. “The Oil Hardings? Is that what you’re calling us now?”
Brooke shrugged, helpless against the charm of his smile as she returned his grin, “The Hardings are into everything from oil to race horses, to real estate; you name it. But you’re the most visible member of the family; not to mention you’re the family businessman. Your mother is the most reclusive of all, your twin sisters seem to be all about school and your brother seems to enjoy fast cars, fast women and designer clothes.”
His grin died, “Yeah, I know. It’s my family, remember?”
Something in the way he said it niggled at the edge of her consciousness and Brook’s reporter’s instincts went on red alert. There was a story there, as surely as she knew her own name.
“So anything you want to tell me?” she asked, leaning forward and deliberately softening her features to invite confidence. She had always had a flair for getting people to relax around her and confide in her. It was one of the things that made her such a success as a reporter.
“Like what? My shoe size? You seem to know so much already, so why bother with the interview?”
A vein ticked dangerously in his forehead warning her that he was good and pissed.
“Did I say something wrong? We just want to understand you better; to see what makes you tick. We want the different facets of the man: your personality, your family life, business ideals, strategies, vacation ideas. Come on, it’s for our “Twenty Rich and Famous Bachelors of 2015” article. Not to mention, we cap it off with an event where all bachelors are auctioned off for two hours of their time with the highest bidder and all proceeds go to charity.”
His lips softened perceptibly, “You seem very passionate about this. Don’t tell me this was your brain-child...”
Brooke shrugged, “In 2012, it came to me that we had over half the world’s population living in po
verty. It was a mere proposal; management ate it up and here we are. We’ve already had three successful events the last three years.”
He sighed, “When you put it like that, fine. But we won’t be here for the two weeks. It’s my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and we are all heading to Montana to celebrate. You have to come with us.”
Sheer panic floated through Brooke. She was originally from Montana and she was one of those people who literally couldn’t go home again. She had left Montana at the ripe old age of sixteen when she had run away from home and vowed never to return. Fear rose to choke her throat as she hurriedly rose to her feet before she could check the movement.
“Perhaps we could take a rain-check? Two weeks is not such a long time. I can return here for the interview when you guys are done with the celebrations,” she offered with deliberate emphasis on ‘here’, her eyes wide and innocent.
He wasn’t buying any bullshit though. She had never seen anyone look more coldly displeased than Tyler did in that moment as he regarded her steadily out of uncomfortably blank eyes.
“Ms. Jordan, I assure you, contrary to what you seem to think, I am a very busy man. I will not be sitting here wringing my hands and waiting for you to get around to conducting an interview guaranteed to help your business. Besides, I have a trip to Africa for three months right after the birthday party. So you can either come along, or get out right now.”
Brooke glared at him. She didn’t much care for his tone and she had a good mind to tell him so right before she slammed out of his life. But she just knew that if she dared that, she would have a pink slip waiting for her on her desk by the time she got back to New York. Besides, Tyler Harding was so powerful she was willing to bet her pay-check that he could guarantee she wouldn’t get a job in the States again if she angered him enough.
Everything in her revolted at the thought of Montana and the deep, dirty secrets buried there, but everything in her revolted even more at the thought of moving to a studio apartment and starting the job-hunt all over again. With a sigh, she slumped back into the seat and said with a marked lack of enthusiasm, “That settles it then. I’m all yours for the next two weeks.”
His answering grin was pure evil.
****
Montana in May was a sight to behold, Brooke decided as the four-wheel drive roared down the road towards yet another Harding estate. Everywhere was either wet or white with flecks of melting snow. The landscape was just as beautiful as she remembered with beautiful white-capped mountains rising proudly to kiss the skies. Roiling fields of greenery disappeared into deep valleys on either side of the winding road making the passing landscape breath-taking and absolutely beautiful.
She stole a glance at her companion from beneath her lashes and was pleased to note that he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the landscape either. As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head and held her gaze with his. Unbidden, a flicker of awareness skittered down her spine and Brooke unconsciously licked her lips as she tried to hold back a surprised gasp. It had been like this since she arrived yesterday and the attraction which she had chalked up to a temporary aberration hadn't eased; if anything, it had heightened. Her stomach had been all aflutter with butterflies since yesterday and she was quickly losing patience with herself. What was wrong with her, she wondered churlishly. No man had ever affected her like this; one glance and she could barely keep her nipples from beading into hard points beneath her blouse. His eyes dipped to her red lips and she saw him swallow even as his gaze darkened perceptibly.
Desire sizzled, hot and potent in the air and every nerve-ending in Brooke’s body went on high alert. His eyes locked with hers, drawing her in inexorably and making her lose all sense of time and place as though hypnotized.
Without being aware of moving, Brooke was in his arms. Urgency ripped through her as Tyler immediately lowered his head to hers, his hard lips slanting across hers, seeking, searching. Brooke leaned back in his arms and opened her mouth to apologize but Tyler didn’t give her a chance; his tongue delved into her mouth and he grabbed her close to him as he deepened the kiss.
His hands tightened about her, as his large, slightly callused palm drifted boldly to her chest and cupped one firm round breast. All the breath whooshed out of her in startled surprise and Tyler immediately released her.
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “Sometimes I move from zero to one hundred in a nanosecond.”
“Um...it’s alright,” she assured him, moving back to her side of the seat in the limo.
Gawd that was some kiss! How did he manage to get her so hot and bothered in less than a few seconds? She felt a red flush steal up her neck as her eyes stole a look at his large, masculine hands.
Even now, she could feel wetness pooling between her thighs just remembering how those large palms had tenderly cupped her breast.
Brooke forced herself to look away, turning her gaze once more to the passing landscape; she had never been this unprofessional in her entire life before. What would Collins have to say about that? She could just picture his frown of displeasure coupled with a smug grin as he whipped out a pink slip. The man seemed to have one about him all the time.
Anger coursed through her as she remembered her boss and deliberately, she looked at her watch, “Are we there yet?”
He chuckled, “Almost, Dorothy.”
She grinned back, relaxing as she leaned back against the soft, plush leather seat of the limo. She could get used to this kind of luxury, she thought, wriggling her behind and settling it deeper into the soft-as-butter leather.
Tyler grinned anew as he watched her obvious and unpretentious enjoyment of the luxurious interior.
“First time?”
“What gave it away?” she purred unconcerned, shutting her eyes as she caressed the soft leather with her hands.
Too soon, the limo drew to a smart stop in front of the mansion and the chauffeur opened the door.
Tyler dimpled at her, “Time to meet the welcome wagon.”
Since there was no ‘welcome wagon’ at the front door, Brooke looked at him askance.
“Oh my mother would never stoop to leave her exalted position in the drawing room where she holds court,” he said bitingly. “We go to her.”
It occurred to Brooke that this was no way to speak of one’s mother. But she said nothing.
Tyler led the way down a long corridor lined with stern unsmiling pictures of a long line of Harding ancestors and then they entered what had to be the drawing room. A woman dressed in a gown fit for a princess in the Victorian ages was sitting ramrod straight in one chair facing the doorway as she tried valiantly to look as though she wasn’t expecting anyone. The scene both amused and touched Brooke. Why would she feel the need to pretend about being glad to see her son come home? Wasn’t it natural for a mother to be excited by her son's return?
“Mother,” Tyler murmured as he leaned down to press a brief kiss onto her cheek.
The woman’s eyes shone like twin jewels as she smiled at her son, then her face went back to its glacial formality when she focused on Brooke.
“The reporter,” she murmured, managing to put enough inflection in the words to make Brooke feel like she just crawled out from beneath a stone. “Welcome, my dear. Show her to her room, Tyler,” she added dismissively.
Tyler turned to wink at Brooke and she understood that they had just been dismissed.
“Who built this...mansion?”
He shrugged, “My grandfather, about twelve generations back.”
Her eyes took in the modern decorations, the plush surroundings; she shook her head, “No, this is way too modern.”
“Okay, so I renovated and redecorated a bit three years ago,” he conceded.
Brooke stared at the back of his head. There were just too many undercurrents with the Hardings. What on earth was going on?
She opened her mouth to ask yet another question but he forestalled her with his announcement, “This is wh
ere we'll put you: the cream room."
He swept the door open to reveal a bedroom that looked as though it was straight out of a magazine. The theme was cream alright, from the bedcovers to the curtains to just about every visible surface was cream and gold. The room was breath-taking!
Brooke was so enthralled, she spun around in a circle taking it all in.
Tyler’s jaw tightened as he watched her. He had been right to pick this room for her; with her pale coloring, the room accentuated her features, made her appear almost ethereal and so damn sexy he could actually feel his blood roaring through his veins in reaction.
His hands tightened into fists at his side as he strove for control. He walked towards the windows to pull the curtains to the side and then turned back around to beat a hasty retreat from the room; he almost mowed Brooke down. She was standing right behind him. It was a measure of how distracted he was that he hadn’t heard her come up behind him.
Brooke grinned up at him saucily, “The view is to die for. I think I can understand why your mother never wants to leave here.”
His gaze went unerringly to her soft red, lips. Yeah the view was to die for.
Without a second thought, he lowered his head to hers and urgently took her lips in a hard, passionate kiss. Kissing her felt like coming home, he thought dimly as his hands wrapped around her soft waist and pulled her flush against him.
Brooke gasped as his lips melded with hers, but instead of pushing him away, her traitorous hands wrapped about his neck. Her fingers hesitantly delved into the thick black hair at his nape and he groaned as he kissed her. Brooke stroked her hand down the thick column of his neck and then his hard, wide chest. He was pure male and absolutely delicious; she would never be able to get enough of him, she mused.
