He sat in the car, watching the rain pelt the chrome on the bikes in front of him. They glinted, slicked with water and it made the metal look liquid, precious. Who knew he could find beauty in such brutal vehicles. Like Briony.
Eyes on the prize. Keep it professional and get on with your life.
Without looking at Briony, he said, “I have more meetings later, best we get started. You can start showing me plans for your renovation.”
He felt her turn, felt her glare on the side of his neck. “What do you mean, show you plans? It’s my hotel. I’ll do what I like.”
He turned to her. “Technically, I’m now entitled to half of it.”
Briony’s face dropped. “Say what now?”
“It was in the contract. The one you signed. My lawyer wanted me to push for full ownership, but I’m a nice guy and I can’t run a hotel as well as everything else in my property portfolio. So unless you do something stupid, it’s still yours. All of it. And at the end of the year, you walk away, debts clear, hotel renovated. If we break up before the year is up, I get my share of our potential matrimonial property, the one I’ve just invested a quarter of a million in.” He softened at the look on her face, but he couldn’t back down, not on this. “It’s in the development, it needs to fit. I need to make sure of it.”
“No judge is going to go with that.”
“They will when they go through the contract. It’s black and white. Very clear. I’m surprised your lawyer missed it.”
“Bastard. You know I don’t have any money. My lawyer is never going to beat yours.”
He shrugged even though the way she was looking at him made him feel like more of a bastard than he could’ve realized. “I can’t help that.” His lawyer had insisted on the clause; extra insurance, he called it.
Briony wrenched the car door open and slammed out of the car into the rain. She nearly fell as she tried to put weight on her injured ankle. Cole rushed out, grabbing the overnight bag his assistant had put in the back for him, but before he could get to Briony two bikers appeared and helped her inside. His heart did a strange groping thing, clenching as if searching for something to hold onto and finding it missing. So what? Any guy is going to help a lady when she’s injured.
But inside Cole’s whole body contracted at the sight of Martinez’s arms wrapped around Briony. He took a step forward and then stopped himself. No point making a scene here. He’d been clear that there would be no other relationships permitted while they were together.
At the sight of the guy whispering in her ear though, Cole’s hands fisted hard enough that his nails dug deep into his palms. You didn’t care, remember? Right. He didn’t. This was business. He steeled himself. “Briony, we have things to discuss.”
She turned to him with a withering look. “Uh-huh. But first I need a drink. A big one. It’s not every day a girl gets engaged.”
“Drinking is what got us here in the first place.”
“Best we keep up the tradition then.”
Another biker handed her a shot of tequila and she raised it to him in mock salute. “Cheers, Slick. What shall we toast to?”
He scowled, but Rocco barreled up beside him and pushed a glass into his hand. “To the happy couple! May they live long and prosper. And not kill each other,” he shouted. Cole closed his eyes, putting a hand to his head as everyone in the bar laughed and roared out a repeat of Rocco’s toast.
Not kill each other? Maybe Briony wouldn’t come after him with a knife, but he wasn’t holding out much hope that her biker boyfriends would be equally restrained. He glanced at Martinez, who was still holding her up. His hands hadn’t left her waist since the moment she’d stumbled out of the car. Leave it. Cole made himself release his hands from the fists they’d clenched into. He would leave it, the biker, Briony, all of it, alone. At least for tonight.
Chapter Seven
“Morning.”
“Humph.” Briony tried to concentrate on reading the real estate section of the paper, but the sight of Cole with mussed hair and a soft white T-shirt made the words blur and run into each other. She did not need a reminder of the well-defined abs and deliciously toned pecs that were hiding under the white cotton. Who managed to keep their whites that white anyway? A glint of sunlight caught her ring as she lifted her cup of coffee and for a moment she stared at the row of diamonds. It was wrong. Felt wrong. And yet, there it was. Even though Cole had bought it, she was the one who had made sure the diamonds and platinum band were there. On her finger.
He’d been there five days and for the last two he’d managed to avoid her almost entirely. But not today. Today she was going to start making her vision a reality.
He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I’m going to the office. I’ll probably be back late. Don’t wait up.”
“Hold on.” Briony put up a hand as if it would stop him from leaving. “You’re the one who put his stupid name on the deed to my hotel in your damn contract. You wanted to see my plans? Here they are. They’re obviously not properly drawn up yet but if you sit down and listen I’ll talk you through them so I can get them to your builders or draftsperson or whatever. You think you’ll be able to keep up?”
“I’ll do my best.” He ran a hand through his hair and Briony would have snorted if it wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to her. The guy was a walking underwear commercial. No, he was a walking, grumpy, self-righteous, not-that-hot-really, underwear commercial. While she looked like a sad, rumpled commercial for old pajamas.
He looked at his watch. “I’ll drink this and shower, then we’ll talk. Ten minutes.”
Briony downed the rest of her coffee, finished reading the article, and then shuffled the newspaper out of the way. She meant business; time to prove it.
Coming back to Wilde’s as the future Mrs. Knight, Briony had fought to keep her tongue under control. Every time Cole had made a snide remark about the hotel or the Hell’s Boys, she’d managed to hold back. Sort of. Okay, she might have yelled when Cole suggested the boys park their bikes in the side parking lot, and she might have overreacted when he’d said her idea for flames in the reception area were over the top. If you call yelling “Get your pansy-ass developer-balls out of my hotel” a slight overreaction.
But he practically snarled every time Marnz walked into a room and the boys just looked at him like a walking billfold. All except Rocco. Somehow the two of them had managed an uneasy truce. Maybe Rocco sensed the same blanketed darkness in Cole that she’d seen, and sensed more of a kindred spirit than the other boys would ever dream was there.
Then there’d been the small thing of her firing his builders because they’d called Wilde’s a dump. It wasn’t that bad. Was it? She sighed. This should have been an exciting time. Engaged bliss! Renovation dreams! Secure future! And yet . . . “You were the one that blackmailed him into pretending he was going to marry you.”
“Indeed.”
Damn, he wasn’t supposed to hear that. She flattened her face into what she hoped was a more neutral expression. “That was quick.”
“Busy day. Let’s get started.”
Briony took a deep breath and lay out her sketches for the full hotel renovation. I will behave, I will behave. “I’ve considered a few of your thoughts about the reception area. We don’t have to have flames on the walls, but I do think that referencing the Raising Hellfire Gang is a good idea. You did agree that danger and sexy went together.” She put up her hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “Just let me talk all this through first, please.”
He shut his mouth and a small smile twitched at the edge of it. Good.
“Instead of full flames, let’s go with red and orange accents. It sounds clashy-clashy bad, I know, but look at this.” She pulled out a mood board she’d made with snippets from three interior magazines that she’d seen in Cole’s office. Red and orange were worked into great designs that looked modern rather than monstrous.
His eyebrows went up. “
Keep talking.”
Yuss. “And in the bar I think it should be black and white and chrome. Everyone freaks out about painting things black ’cause, you know, dark, but if we knock out the wall and add three windows to the front to let more light in, the place will suck up the sunshine.” A roll of thunder punctuated her sentence. “When the sun ever comes out again.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention. What about the rest of the hotel? And that bistro you wanted? I know two hundred and fifty thousand sounds like a lot of money, but you’re going to have to be smart with it if you want to start doing a bunch of structural elements.” He shuffled his chair a little closer to hers and leaned in over her plans and mood boards.
Briony inhaled the fresh smell of soap and . . . cedar? It was like being outside, a sharp contrast to the bike oil, musty leather, and body odor smells she was used to being around. Guess he did just shower. And he took care of himself. He has to, he has a fancy-pants business to run. Yes. And it was a little bit nice. A little? Okay, quite a lot nice. Being around a man who, for all his male-oriented, corporate-powerhouse focus, still thought about what he smelled like.
“What about if you change the layout a little more in this room?” He leaned in even farther and brushed against her arm. Do not react, do not react. Of course she wouldn’t. She was only engaged to the guy. She didn’t like him. Pretentious ass only thinks about himself.
“And then if we swing this around here . . .” He looked up at her and grabbed a pencil. “Okay if I write on these?”
She nodded.
He went on, redrawing the layout on a couple of the bedrooms that made so much more sense she could have kicked herself. She picked up the pencil and started modifying her original ideas, taking his suggestions and adding in new elements as inspiration hit her. “Who knew, they look even better than I could’ve imagined.”
“I’ll take that as a thank you.” Despite the proximity and their intimate focus on her drawings, Cole’s voice was cold and he sat back in the chair as he spoke, putting down his pencil and checking his watch.
“Just this last bit then we’re good to go, okay?” Briony put her pencil to her mouth and twirled the end with her tongue. What are you doing? The way Cole pulled back sent cold hands of disappointment through her stomach. I’m not doing anything. Except toying with your pencil? Leaning over and giving him a good view of your cleavage? Scraping for his attention? Except that.
She sat up straighter. “I was thinking we should push for a higher environmental standard.”
He snorted. “You’re kidding? A biker bar with a green eco edge? How do those two go together?”
“It might not seem very rock and roll, but bikers give a shit about stuff, too. When you’re on a bike everything is exposed. The weather, the dirt, the road, they all come at you a hundred miles an hour. Makes you think.” She jutted her jaw. “And anyway, it’s my hotel. But if you start getting antsy, just think about how it’ll help the hotel fit into your development.”
“Okay then. Continue.”
“I was thinking we could have a thermal mass element in the new wing. We have to redo the wall anyway and maybe we could get some passive energy out of it.” Pouring a concrete floor would suck up the heat from the sun and look sleek and modern. If they did it right it would provide heat for the hotel in winter down in that wing, too.
Cole sat back in his chair and Briony checked his face. Okay. So he wasn’t looking at her like she was an idiot. That was good. “It’s the right sun orientation. Polished concrete is easy to care for and goes with the biker theme.”
He took her pencil from her again and sketched on the plans. “If you upped the insulation level here, made sure everything was double glazed. Huh. Not bad, Wilde. Not bad at all. How do you know about all of this?”
“I read,” she said. “A lot. You’re not the only one who goes through Architectural Digest in their spare time.”
“As well as playing with bikes.”
“That, too.” Damn, was she blushing? Again. The guy had the ability to make her face flush at the most innocent innuendo. That didn’t happen. Ever. “One day, Wilde’s will be able to open its doors to everyone. Acceptance for all and all that. We’ll be fine then.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” She stiffened.
He looked at his watch. “I really do have to go, but I’ve got a break in an hour. Come into the office with me and we’ll finish this off.”
“Today?”
“I thought you needed to finalize these ideas so you could get them drawn up and in for quotes?”
“I do. Okay. Right. Shit. I’ll just change.”
“Yes. Good plan.” He looked her up and down.
Her skin buzzed, his eyes searing through her as if they were his hands going up and down her body.
In her room she played with her hair, putting it up, then taking it down. What does it matter? You could shave it off for all the good it’s going to do you. Cole was giving her attention because she’d made him. Period. Dressed in one of the black suits Cole had bought her, Briony didn’t quite feel like herself. Giving herself one last look in the mirror, she raced back downstairs.
“Better,” he said when she met him in the lobby.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate tracksuit chic, it’s just that when we’re at my office, we’re in my world. And you need to look the part.”
“I get it already.”
“Do you? Because I was going to say we should pitch your plans to the board. We only meet once a month and if you really want to get going quickly I’d like to pass this by them.”
“Wait. What? Today?”
“You did a great pitch to me. We can have some simple layout plans drawn up before the meeting.”
Briony’s insides shrank to the size of an infant’s and she had trouble breathing.
“Come on. I have to go. You want to get started or not? Time to start playing with the big boys if you’re going to make your hotel fit into my world.”
“Okay.” The word came out as hardly more than a squeak. But it was enough for Cole and he strode out of Wilde’s and to his car.
* * *
His world. And wasn’t that the truth? Sitting in his boardroom again, her plans laid out carefully on the table with the addition of a simple CAD layout of what she and Cole had discussed, Briony closed her eyes, trying to find her calm.
“Are you ready? They’ll be online in two minutes.”
“No.” She turned to see Cole standing, feet apart behind her. This was not her world. This quiet unnerved her. The way people whispered down corridors, barely raised their voices, it was weird. Where was the shouting? She looked Cole in the eye finally. He was calm. Hell, he was cool, calm, and all kinds of classy, whereas she was—she looked down at her suit—a total fake.
“Fake it till you make it. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
Her head snapped up but she didn’t have time to quiz him on whether he meant it was obvious she was faking it or whether he thought she could make it because the weird UFO thing in the middle of the table started vibrating and flashing.
“That’s us. Don’t fret, princess, you’ll be fine. And I’ll lead you through it.”
He pushed a series of buttons and three faces appeared on the screen in front of them.
“So this is her then.” An elderly man was the first to speak. Frank Knight, she realized with a start, although a slightly grayer, more worn version of the man she’d seen online. They must have been old photographs.
“Indeed. Dad, Brian, Margaret, this is Briony.”
“Pleased to meet you,” chorused the welcome through the video channel.
“I thought it was time I introduced her so that we can get started on the hotel renovation. I know it’s a big deviation from what we had originally planned, but it’s not a bad one. Briony is passionate about keeping a sense of the old community together and although
I know some of you will laugh, I’m sold on her idea that too much new can be . . . too much.”
“Well she’s a stronger woman than me then,” said Frank to the chuckles of the other two.
“I figure it’s her passion project, so she should lead the charge here.” He waved at her and Briony realized this was it. She was up.
“Wilde’s has been a community institution for decades. People have fallen in love there, been married there, celebrated all the milestones life has to offer. If we renovate rather than rebuild, we get to capitalize on that sense of community history. In a new development like this, it’s important that people feel that they have a place that knows them. Knows who they’ve been.”
“She’s good,” said the guy named Brian. He gave her a wink.
“With this renovation we’re talking about bringing the place up to code and into line with the eco credentials of the rest of the development. Integrating thermal mass with concrete floors, increasing insulation, reorienting some of the rooms to maximize passive heating. But we won’t destroy her character, we’ll emphasize it.” As she spoke she pulled up the plans and talked them through it. Pointing out features both old and new that would make it into the renovation. She kept expecting Cole to butt in, but he sat back, looking like he was enjoying her pitch as much as the three faces on the video screen. As she spoke through her vision a glimmer of what life could be like at Cole’s side shimmered in her mind. To have people listen to her, quietly, reasonably, and ask questions, was new to her. Her body relaxed, and the smile she flashed Frank when he complimented another detail was a real one, not the forced shiny one she’d had on at the start of the pitch.
Burning to Ride Page 17
