Entrance (Thornhill Trilogy Book 1)

by J. J. Sorel

“I see,” I replied, increasingly intrigued by this mysterious boss. So far, I’d established that Aidan Thornhill was benevolent and had excellent taste in art and an interest in jazz. I couldn’t help but like the guy even if he did appear aloof and earnest in the pictures I’d seen online.

  After work, I decided to go for a swim. I changed into my one-piece, which Tabitha referred to as a spinster swimsuit. This was often followed by me arguing that I couldn’t wear a bikini because it offered no support. Tabitha would then point a finger, calling me a prude.

  Under the shade of trees, bright-pink bougainvillea hugged the weathered rock wall, making for a picturesque descent. The steep stairs leading down to the beach seemed interminable. They were carved in stone, transporting me back in time, and like everything else at the estate, the setting reminded me of Southern Europe. The closer I got, the saltier the air became. Having always loved the sea, I was excited by the thought of a swim.

  A jetty came into view. I removed my sandals to indulge in the pleasant squelching sand which was warm and massaging. Impressive-looking speedboats came into view, no doubt my boss’s toys. Out in the distance, an impressive yacht sat alone, swaying gently. With its white sail fluttering and dark wood, the handsome vessel screamed of money.

  I had never visited a private beach before. The pristine, tranquil bay was flat, ideal for swimming. I could have even skinny-dipped. Perhaps when Tabitha visited we would do that together. She’d be into it without a doubt. But for the moment, I’d stick to my one-piece.

  I undid my sarong and went straight in. Despite the hot afternoon sun, a shiver ran through me as my white feet touched the chilly water. I acclimatized to the coolness and then dived under.

  It was so exhilarating I cried out. The beauty of being alone was that I could do that. The sea always brought out the wild child in me.

  My body cried out for a workout to atone for all the creamy cakes. At first, I swam breaststroke, then freestyle and backstroke, and then I floated on my back for respite. Once my breath regulated, I repeated it over again.

  All puffed out I fell onto my towel, stretching out like a lazy cat, my skin puckered with delight as the sun dried my soaked flesh. The straps of my swimsuit dug in. I looked about to make sure no-one was around and then pulled my swim-suit down to my waist.

  Ah… how delightful. The sun wove its magical warmth through my flesh.

  I opened my book and drifted off to old France when I heard puffing. A dribble of fluid on my leg followed, and I looked up. There was Rocket. His tongue hung, and his large, friendly eyes filled with joy.

  I sprang up and grabbed my sarong. Rocket, meanwhile, shook out his wet hair all over me. “You little shit!” I exclaimed, clutching the sarong around my breasts. Next minute, the sexy gardener was there by my side, inscrutable as usual in baseball cap and dark glasses. This time he was bare-chested, setting off a warm pulse below. He was so hot my breath hitched. Speechless, I clutched onto my sarong.

  He appeared a giant compared to my five-foot-two frame. My eyes drank him like ambrosia. In the sun, the dusting of hair on his firm, rippling chest shimmered. Droplets of water, which I suddenly thirsted for, settled on the puckered flesh of his tanned, shapely biceps. His wet shorts hugged his muscular thighs. I nearly swooned when I noticed a considerable bulge clinging to his drenched shorts. Is that an erection?

  Reminded I was topless beneath my slightly see-through sarong, I tightened my grip. The heat raging through me was intense. My nipples, with a mind of their own, pierced through the thin fabric.

  I couldn’t see where his eyes were behind those dark glasses. But I felt his gaze burning into me anyway. With no idea how long I’d been staring, my senses scattered.

  At last, the god spoke. “I’m sorry about that. He’s taken a shine to you, which is unusual for Rocket. He’s generally reserved, bordering on anti-social.” A deep, sexy voice accompanied his scrumptious physique, which was fortunate. A high-pitched voice would have been heart-breaking.

  “That’s unusual. Most cattle dogs I’ve known are friendly and smart. That’s why I love them,” I said, bending down to pat Rocket with my one free hand.

  “He likes you.” His sculpted, fleshy lips curled up at one end. It was the closest to a smile I’d seen. “He came from a shelter and had a rough start. Most of the time, he either ignores people or growls at them. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  He bent down to pick up my book, which had been disturbed by Rocket’s excitable greeting. Badly timed, I also went to pick it up, and to avert a collision, I fell backwards. Not only did I appear clumsy, but my sarong flew off, and I was topless.

  Shit.

  I grabbed my sarong, and an embarrassing squawk left my mouth. Before I could help myself, he had lifted me. For a moment, I was in his arms, rendered senseless by the smell of sea and male oozing off him. My gaze fell on him. I wanted to remove those glasses. I was desperate to see his face. He’d seen my breasts. It was an intimate moment.

  Why wasn’t I confident and experienced?

  A blaze had been set off between my thighs. I was soaking wet, and it was not from the sea.

  Back to reality, I quickly covered myself and sat on my towel, biting my lip and lost for anything to say that could relieve the tension.

  Meanwhile, he held my novel in his large hand, reading the cover. “Scarlet and Black,” he said with his killer husk. “I take it this is a classic?”

  “Yes, nineteenth-century French. It’s my second reading. It’s one of my favorites,” I said, taking the book from him.

  “I read Les Misérables last year,” he said.

  “Victor Hugo. A masterpiece.”

  He nodded slowly. “I thought so. It made me question morality and what makes a decent person and how redemption should be part of that equation, especially when poverty pushes one over the edge. He redeemed himself by becoming a model citizen, and then along came this twisted, unwavering cop. It should be made compulsory reading.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” I murmured, nodding longer than was natural.

  My God, I was in love. I wished I had the courage to remove that damn cap and those glasses. I was suddenly imagining holding his longish hair in my fist as his full lips ate me alive.

  By the way he lingered I could tell he was equally shy. “Well, I better leave you to it, then.”

  Before I could respond, he’d vanished. All I had was a view of his perfect butt and a stride that was mouth-watering like the rest of him. Phew!

  A dip was called for. I had to douse the fire somehow. When I sprang up from a dive, I saw him in the distance. He’d been watching me at play in the sea. The next time I looked, he was gone.

  Flooded with hormones and drugged on pheromones I bounded up the stairs. My stomach rumbled. The beach always made me hungry. And with each famished step, I became increasingly grateful that Melanie had, earlier, placed a plateful of leftovers in my hand. God, I loved my job.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Veterans’ Health Center, or VHC as it was known, was indeed a remarkable place. Fitted with a gymnasium, swimming pool, bar, billiard parlor, and a restaurant offering inexpensive meals, I could see the benefits it offered to its members. In addition, there were psychiatrists, psychologists, and doctors who offered their services for free. The generosity of Aidan Thornhill saw no boundaries.

  My first impression of Bryce Beaumont was that he was a sleazy, self-entitled brat. Tall and well-built with dark eyes and hair, he was good-looking. Even so, he was more Tabitha’s type than mine. His ogling made my skin crawl. Patently, he’d mistaken my breasts for my face.

  Earlier that morning, I’d set off in the company electric car. The engine was very quiet and the car was so effortless to drive that I found the whole experience novel. Although normally not fond of driving, I actually enjoyed it for once.

  One of the pricklier aspects to this dream job, however, was visiting the facility in order to go over expenses. Peeved a
nd blustery, Bryce Beaumont didn’t hide his annoyance.

  “How about we grab a drink at the bar?” Before I could respond, Bryce led me out of his office.

  “We service the needs of retired defense personnel. We have fifty thousand registered.” We entered the bar. “What’s your poison?” he asked, chuckling.

  I noted a look of disappointment in his piercing eyes when I asked for a coffee. Did he expect to seduce me? Eek. Not a chance.

  The more I grew acquainted with Bryce, the more I disliked him. To ward off the unease, I thought about the sexy gardener. I even dreamed about him the previous night—his impatient hands unbuttoning my shirt. I woke up hot and sticky, something I hadn’t experienced since Ian Wilson fondled me at school when I was sixteen. I still recall my broken heart when he left. After that, no-one affected me that way until the sexy gardener. I smiled to myself, acknowledging that he might not even be that. But with that strong, hard body of his, being a gardener would have suited him. Predictably, he kept intruding on my thoughts. Since that steamy encounter on the beach earlier, he was constantly there. He even made a star appearance while Toy Boy, my trusty vibrator, tickled me senseless

  “So, Clarissa, do you enjoy working for Aidan Thornhill?”

  “I haven’t actually met him. But I do love my new job. Everyone’s so kind. Greta is thorough, patient, and helpful.”

  Bryce smirked while running his hands through his short, wavy black hair, his lips wide and suggestively carnal. He had chiseled features, and I imagined Tabitha purring at the sight of him. Of a solid frame, his legs struggling for comfort in tight-fitting jeans. I even made the mistake of glancing down, where his bulge was impossible to miss. Hell.

  “She’s his aunt.” Catching my accidental glance at his hard-on, Bryce grinned lasciviously.

  “Yes, um, Melanie told me,” I said, crossing my arms. The cold air- conditioning had my nipples pushing against my cotton shirt. Shit. That’s why he has an erection. I wish I’d worn a sweater.

  “Watch that Melanie. She’s got a big mouth.” He sneered. “She’s a gossip and a troublemaker. Don’t believe everything she tells you.” He ordered another drink. “Are you sure I can’t offer you something harder?”

  I shook my head. Oh my God, was that a double entendre? I wanted to run. And we hadn’t even looked at the reporting program yet.

  By the way Bryce knocked back his liquor, I imagined he did everything to excess.

  “Mr. Beaumont—” My voice was thin.

  “Call me Bryce.”

  “Bryce, I’ve got to get back.” I studied my watch. “Greta has asked me to show you a new accounting system…”

  His body slumped, his face contorted with impatience. “Not another damn accounting system. What’s up? They don’t trust me.” His irascible tone went up a decibel. He’d become scarier.

  Bryce must have read my fear, because his hard stare softened. “Okay, then, let’s get back to my office so that you can show me.” He raised an eyebrow.

  Hell, what is he going to do to me?

  When we got back to the office, he stood at the doorway and waved me through. “After you.”

  To get through, I had to suck my bottom in tight, just missing his protrusion. Droplets of sweat dripped between my shoulder blades.

  He approached his desk and placed a chair by his side, tapping it. “Come sit here, then.”

  I placed the USB stick into the computer. We were seated too close for comfort. The whole while, his eyes were pitched at my breasts. It was so awful I nearly bolted.

  Half an hour later, I stood at my car. Despite the fact I told him there was no need, Bryce had tagged along, all the way to the bitter end. Just as I was leaving, he said, “I’ll see you at the ball next week, then.”

  I fumbled in my bag, searching for my keys. I regarded his smarmy face, realizing my sense of unease was lost on him. He was either a sociopath or dim-witted.

  Blowing out a tense breath, I felt my chest finally expand as I drove into the sanctuary of Thornhill Estate. After leaving the car with Linus to recharge, I rushed back to the cottage for a cold shower. My underwear was drenched, not from arousal but from fear and loathing.

  I changed and headed for the kitchen, where Melanie carved up roast beef.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, her face cheery as usual.

  “That I am. It’s been quite a morning.” I sighed, refreshed after my shower.

  “Roast beef, potatoes, pumpkin, and broccoli. How’s that sound?”

  “Yummy. Thanks, Melanie. You’re really kind,” I said, recalling Bryce’s scathing remarks about her.

  She passed me a plate filled to the brim. I smiled with gratitude and ate with the gusto of someone who’d been through a trial.

  “I met Bryce Beaumont this morning,” I said, chewing away.

  Her mouth contorted. “I bet he tried to hit on you.”

  Nodding, I pulled a face of dread.

  “He’s a nasty son-of-a-bitch,” she said.

  “Does he always act this way with the female staff?”

  Melanie nodded. “Amy, the PA before Cherie—the one you replaced—was loose, so to speak.” She raised an eyebrow. “She liked to drink, and I’m sure she had a fling with Bryce. But then, she had issues.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She had it bad for Aidan, which mind you, isn’t hard to imagine. He’s strikingly handsome, you know.” Her eyes twinkled. “Anyway, one night at the ball, she got so drunk she jumped all over Aidan. After that, they fired her.”

  “So why do they keep Bryce on?”

  “Good question. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he’s stealing from them.”

  “Then why persist with him?” I asked.

  “Bryce and Aidan were in the services together. I’ve heard a whisper that he’s got something on Aidan.” She lowered her voice.

  “How do you know all this, Melanie?”

  “I’ve been here from the beginning and”—she shrugged her shoulders— “one hears things.”

  When I returned to the office, I found Greta waiting for me. “I trust you traveled well?”

  “I explained the new program,” I said, keeping it vague.

  “Good.” She moved away, and my breath returned. Then, catching me unawares, she turned. “Did he come on to you?”

  I swallowed. My voice croaked. “Ah… not really.”

  “Not really?” She knitted her brows. “You can tell me.” Her attitude towards me had changed since meeting my father.

  “Well, he did appear overconfident, and I suppose he was forward, but I handled it.” I stared down at my hands as my armpits dampened.

  “How did he react to the new system? Was there any resistance?”

  “Some. But he agreed to co-operate.” My wavering voice betrayed me. Watching her eyes narrow, I could tell that Greta was unconvinced.

  “Okay, then.” She stared out the window, ruminating.

  “It’s such an impressive organization. The foundation does such great work,” I added with enthusiasm. “I’ve read that many returning soldiers suffer.”

  My attempt at brightening the situation worked. Greta had swapped her concerned frown for a soft and respectful expression. “Yes, Aidan has a kind heart. He works tirelessly to ensure that everyone’s taken care of.”

  After Greta left, curiosity had me visiting Thornhill Holdings’ charities. An impressive website, if not vague, given that it contained no photos of Aidan or information about him. Still, I admired someone who didn’t blow his own trumpet, another fine point for my elusive boss.

  As I kept reading, I learnt that apart from the health services to returned members of the military, Thornhill charities included: shelters for abused children and women, rehabilitation facilities for liquor and drug addicts from impoverished backgrounds, lost-dog homes, protection for endangered wildlife, college scholarships for underprivileged children, and free renewable energy for the poor. That last one was left of center.
I clicked on it and discovered that Aidan was building wind-farms and solar energy farms throughout the country. They’d be designed to feed into poor households and not-for-profit charities. I worked for one of the nicest guys on the planet!

  CHAPTER NINE

  My muscles unwound in the salt water as I floated on my back. White gulls glided above in the cloudless blue sky, the breeze sending them on a journey to wherever. Weightlessly, I soared along with them.

  Vigorous splashing suddenly woke me out of my meditation. I stood up in the water and spied Rocket chasing a ball. In his signature baseball cap and dark glasses, the sexy gardener was waist-high in the water.

  As I made my way out, Rocket pounced on me to say hello, his paw leaving a scratch on my thigh. His master ran towards us. For some twisted reason, my eyes went to his wet shorts. That bulge was on full display and was impossible to miss. I immediately averted my eyes while heat engulfed me. Dripping wet, I remained frozen, pining for sunglasses. Can he read my attraction?

  “I am very sorry about that. Did he scratch you?” he asked.

  I checked the scratch on my thigh. It did sting a little, but I remained stoical. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry— the salt water should disinfect it.” My heart was in my mouth, and I could barely utter a clear word. He just got hotter and hotter.

  “You may need it bandaged. There’s a first aid kit in one of the boats,” he said in that clit-swelling husk.

  “No, that’s fine,” I said, smiling awkwardly. I really wanted to say yes, imagining his fingers visiting my injured thigh and beyond.

  How stupidly bashful can one be?

  Rocket stood by my side, sincere apology written in his large, soulful eyes.

  He shook his head. “Boy, he likes you,” he said, patting the dog.

  “He’s a cute dog.”

  Although he was mysterious as ever in those dark glasses, I still sensed his gaze burning into me.

  “Well, then, I’d best leave you to it,” he said, lingering. Like me, he seemed unsure. Cold comfort, really. Two shy people resulted in frustration. And frustrated was certainly how I felt watching him turn away. His butt looked delightfully squeezable. I swallowed hard as I watched his strong, athletic calf muscles flex on the soft sand.