His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (4 page)

“Fuck me, I do love a challenge.”

Hell no. That wasn’t her intention at all. Brynn didn’t want him to see her as a challenge. She wasn’t going to give in, either. She couldn’t. Her self-esteem couldn’t handle someone like him. If a man that powerful and aggressive discovered she couldn’t orgasm with a partner, could rarely even orgasm on her own, he’d probably see it as his manly duty to fix her. And when he failed, it would be one more humiliation Brynn could add to the list. No thanks. Not interested.

She took a fortifying breath. All of this inappropriate sex talk had to stop. Now. Brynn needed to finish this job. Yet her brain kept screaming over and over:
Get out now, while you still can!

But she couldn’t leave. Brynn promised Cass she’d teach this course. There was no one else to do it. Time to get this train back on track. She glanced down at her questionnaire. “How would you describe your management style?”

“Authoritative.”

She wrote it down, kept her eyes glued to the page, but she could feel him looking at her.

“How would your employees describe you?”

“Who cares?”

That response got her attention. “What kind of attitude is that?”

“One that’s served me well.”

“You don’t care how your employees view you?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t give a shit, really.”

Where was she supposed to go from there? “Do you ask your team members for input?”

Iain scoffed. “Do you want me to say, ‘Hey, Frank, would you mind doing your job? I’d be ever so chuffed if you did, mate’? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not it. But people need to feel heard. When people feel heard, when their opinions matter, they’re happier. Happier employees are more productive employees.”

Iain draped his arm along the back of the sofa and unbuttoned his suit jacket with the other hand. For one second, his fingers brushed a few strands at the bottom of her ponytail, making the hair on the back of Brynn’s neck stand on end. She could feel the warmth coming off his arm. It was making her warm—in all the wrong places. “But I don’t care if they’re happy. And if I had to spend all day listening to other people’s fucking ideas, I’d take a leap out this window.”

“Mr. Chapman—”

“Iain, love. Best get used to saying it—well, shouting it, more like.”

Whoa. Thoughts of Iain on top of her, inside her, made Brynn swallow convulsively. The fantasy was so damned erotic—no, not erotic. Unprofessional. That’s what she meant, unprofessional.

Brynn shot out of her seat and threw herself into the armchair next to the sofa. Three feet wasn’t as much distance between them as she’d like, but it was a start.

She should have set ground rules from the beginning. She’d let him get by with too much. “Mr. Chapman.
I
feel that you’re being very inappropriate right now. You might benefit from a class in sexual harassment, which will take another two days of training.”

“Oh God.” He rubbed his eyes and exhaled a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m very confused about my role here. If you’re not interested in being a better leader or taking this class seriously, why did you call us in the first place?”

As Iain placed a hand on his leg, his gaze slid to the window. “Right. You’re here to train me.” He stared out at the cloudless blue sky and said nothing. When he looked back at Brynn, something had changed. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but his face was harder, his eyes cooler. Any sexual interest he’d shown earlier was now gone. “My mate, Marc, thinks I could use a little refining. Claims employees are afraid of me.”

“What do you think?”

“I suppose he’s right.” He’d been so dismissive of his employees a moment ago, but now all of the sudden, he acted compliant. It didn’t add up. But as long as he stopped talking about sex, she wasn’t going to question his change of heart.

“Okay then. Let’s finish this questionnaire, and then I’d like you to show me around the office.”

“How many questions are in that bloody thing?” He nodded at the binder.

“Seventy-five.”

He muttered under his breath. “Fine. Let’s just get on with it, eh?”

* * *

By question six, Iain’s eyes began to cross. He answered more or less honestly, and given Brynn’s tightening lips, he could tell she wasn’t impressed with his so-called managerial skills. Honestly, though, how in the bloody hell was he meant to “honor people’s need for creativity”? What did that even mean?

As Brynn added up his score, Iain’s gaze kept tripping over her. He’d been so taken with her, he’d nearly forgotten that he’d arranged this entire scenario. All he could think about was seeing her naked, knowing what that petite, willowy body looked like without clothes. But getting her naked was a secondary goal. A vital one now, to be sure, but it needed to take a backseat. His cock was having a very hard time with that concept, however. It had been rock hard since she walked into the room.

When she glanced up from her notebook, she wore an expression of disappointment. “
I
believe that you could use improvement in several areas. If you practice and apply the techniques from this class, you’ll see a real improvement in how you relate to your employees.”

Iain didn’t want to relate to his employees, but he had to at least pretend, if only to win her over. He stood and walked to the door. “There’s no better time than now. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Brynn stood and nabbed her purse, slinging it across her shoulder. “Great. Where should we start?”

Iain didn’t have the slightest clue. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Could you introduce me to your staff and give me a few details about each department?”

Iain knew the names of his department heads, naturally. The workers? No. Not that he’d admit that to Brynn.

He took her to the numbers section first. “This is Tom, head of accounting. Tom, Brynn Campbell.” She shook hands with him. Maybe it was because
Tom was in his fifties and weighed no more than
ten stone sopping wet, but Brynn didn’t seem shy with him at all. She shook his hand and looked him squarely in the eye.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Introduce her around, Tom, and tell her what you do.”

Iain watched as Tom rattled off the names of the six accountants who worked under him. All of them avoided eye contact with Iain. Marc said they nearly pissed themselves at his presence. Iain had never noticed before, but it seemed like Marc was correct. Was he such an ogre, then?

Hardly. He paid more than the average salary, after all. So maybe he barked at people every once in a while. That only happened when they cocked up. The rest of the time, Iain left them alone to do their work. That made him a boss, not a monster.

As Tom blathered on about tax structure and payroll, Iain allowed himself to stare at Brynn’s tight little ass. It was compact, like the rest of her, but damned adorable. When she turned, he quickly shifted his eyes and tried to look as if he’d been listening to every number-crunching word. “Thank you, Tom. Carry on.” He waited for Brynn to exit the room first.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“Data research.” He led her to a cubicle near the center of the room. “Paul, Brynn Campbell.”

Paul leaped from his seat as if the chair had scorched his ass. “Sir.”

“Please explain to Brynn what it is you do.” Iain thrust his hands in his pockets and grabbed hold of the dice. He refrained from pulling them out, but just barely. Paul’s nervousness was palpable.

“Our department both buys data and collects it. That’s about it.”

“For pitching your restaurants and clubs to tourists?” Brynn asked.

“Mostly. Every time someone uses a credit card or cell phone in one of our businesses…” He paused, his eyes straying to Iain. “I mean one of Mr. Chapman’s businesses, we have access to that person. It helps us define who our customer is.”

Brynn shuddered. “I know this is standard practice, but I find spying on people a little creepy.”

If Brynn had any idea how much Iain really knew about her—the fact that she’d bought her house over a year ago, that she purchased mostly organic food and ate at a cheap Thai restaurant at least once a week—she’d be even more disturbed. Fortunately, she’d never find out. “Introduce her to your team, Paul.”

He tapped on the side of his cubicle until a woman with straight hair peered over the partition. “This is Jane.”

“Hello.” Then she disappeared.

“That’s it. That’s our team. A team of two. More of a duo, really.”

Iain held back a sigh. “Right, get back to it.”

“Yes, sir.” Paul dropped into his seat.

Iain took Brynn’s elbow and steered her toward the sales department, then the development teams—property and business, IT, PR, legal—and the HR section. Finally at the end of the room, he stood in front of a closed door.

“This is Marc’s office.”

“And what does Marc do?”

“Everything. He’s in charge of the day-to-day operations. I meet with investors, check the progress on our various sites, and make sure everything is running smoothly outside the office.” He knocked on the door and opened it.

Marc sat behind his desk, his jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up. Where Iain was fastidious about his suits, Marc was more casual, often foregoing a tie.

“Marc Atwell, this is Brynn Campbell, the corporate trainer.”

Marc stepped out from behind his desk. “Nice to meet you. You have your hands full with this one, yeah?”

Brynn glanced up at Iain. “Would you mind if I had a few minutes alone with Marc?”

Hell yes he’d mind. “Why is that necessary?”

“I’d like to be thorough in my recommendations. If you’re concerned about what Marc has to say, the three of us could dialogue about it afterward.”

Dialogue.
Rubbish. “No, it’s fine. Meet me in my office after you’re done, right?”

Iain longed to wipe the smirk off Marc’s face. As he made his way back to his office, he wondered what his mate would say about him. He could give Brynn an earful, no doubt. They’d known each other since they were lads—the good, the bad, and the awful. Marc was the only person Iain really trusted. Well, besides Amelia, but she didn’t know everything about him.

No, he told himself, Marc wouldn’t tell tales. If for no other reason than the fact that Iain would retaliate—mutual destruction and all that.

He stepped into his office suite and Amelia glanced up from her computer screen, her mouth turned down at the corners. “Oh no. You scared her off, didn’t you? Too bad. I liked her. Brynn had substance, I could tell.”

Iain pulled the dice from his pocket, grounded by the familiar weight of them in his palm. “She’s talking to Marc. She’ll be back in a jiff.”

Ames’s brow cleared. “Good. Stay on your best behavior and try not to say
fuck
so much.”

“I don’t need you telling me how to win women, do I?”

“Mmm, you kind of do. The girls you usually date are little more than shallow gold diggers. It’s time you settled down, don’t you think?”

Iain stalked to his office. When he reached the door, he turned back. “When I want your sorry
fucking
advice, I’ll ask for it. I know you have work to do. If not, I’ll give you some.”

“Save it, Iain. You may terrify the minions out there, but you don’t scare me.”

Marc Atwell was Iain’s opposite in every way. Casually dressed, he wore a ready smile and a long mane of light brown hair that brushed the collar of his rumpled shirt. “Have a seat, Brynn. It’s all right to call you Brynn, innit?”

“It is. Thank you.” His office wasn’t as opulently furnished as Iain’s. While the desk and chairs were nice, they weren’t antiques, and this space was a good deal smaller, with only two windows.

“How long have you known Iain?” Brynn crossed her legs. She felt at ease in Marc’s presence. While he was an undeniably attractive man, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw, there was zero sexual attraction simmering between them. He gave off an older-brother vibe, and for the first time since entering the Blue Moon offices, Brynn felt herself relaxing.

“Can’t remember a time when I didn’t know him. We grew up together, back in Manchester.”

“And you came to America together?”

He stared at his desk blotter and caressed it with his fingers. “That we did. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Tell me the truth.”

At her words, Marc’s gaze returned to her. “What truth?”

“Iain doesn’t know the name of a single employee out there, does he?”

He huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve pegged him, love. Tried to pretend otherwise, did he?”

“He had all of the department heads make the introductions. So what does he need from me?”

“That’s a question. Iain’s a complicated man. He demands a lot from people, himself more than anyone. He’s not the friendliest bloke, even on a good day. Maybe you can help him warm up with that lot out there.”

“I’ll do my best. Anything else I should know?”

Marc opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and studied his hands.

Brynn waited, but when he remained silent, she stood and walked to the door. “Well, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for giving me some insight.”

“Wait. Iain’s not a bad sort. You’ll remember that, yeah?
But he has tunnel vision when it comes to the business.”

“Okay, I’ll remember.”

“Just do your best, love. No one expects miracles, do they?”

Puzzled by that brief exchange, Brynn left. As she walked back through the office, she received more than a few worried glances. Several employees huddled around the development section. When she passed, they stopped talking. If Brynn had to guess, she’d say these people were scared for their jobs. They probably thought she was a corporate guillotine.

When she entered Iain’s office, Amelia was talking on the phone and waved Brynn toward the door. Giving it a perfunctory knock, she walked inside.

Iain had his jacket off, but unlike Marc, he was still buttoned up to his chin, his tie perfectly knotted, his vest snugly fitting his impressive chest. He knocked the wind out of her sails every time she looked at him. Iain Chapman was a whole lot of hot man in one tempting package—more than Brynn could ever hope to handle.

“Well, did Marc tell you all of my misdeeds as a lad?”

“No. He only confirmed what I already knew.”

Iain’s sharp eyes became watchful. “What’s that, then?”

“That you’re out of touch with your employees.” She walked to his desk and took a seat in the formal guest chair. “You don’t know any of them. Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

“I’m bad with names. So what’s next?”

“I’m going back to my office to set you up with an online class. You can choose videos or a written tutorial.”

“I choose neither. I specifically told your employer I require personal,
hands-on
instruction.” He made it sound
very
personal, his tone becoming throaty and suggestive.

“Um…
I
don’t believe that’s necessary. Usually a facilitator is only required in a group setting.”

“Too bad. It’s what I require.”

“Well, maybe a real trainer will be available over the next few days.” She stood and began backing away. “I’ll have Cassandra call and let you know.”

Iain stood too and began stalking her. He wasn’t in a hurry about it either. He casually approached her until Brynn’s back was plastered against the door.

When he flattened his hand on the wood, his wrist rested against Brynn’s shoulder. She caught another waft of his delicious cologne as Iain lowered his head, his lips hovering just above hers. “I don’t want another trainer. I want you, Brynn.”

His words, the rich timbre of his voice—it made Brynn’s panties the tiniest bit damp. Licking her lips, she stared at his mouth. All she had to do was angle her head upward, just a couple of inches, and they’d be kissing.

Her gaze slowly moved over his face. Iain’s skin held a fading tan, as if he’d spent some time outdoors but not recently. His nose was a little pointed at the end and skewed a bit to the left. To Brynn, it made him even more attractive. Finally, she looked him in the eye. He stilled, waiting to see what she’d do. He could keep on waiting. If it were up to Brynn, she’d be halfway to the Strip by now, a streak of smoke trailing from her tires as she sped away as fast as possible.

“I told you,” she said, her voice hushed. “I’m not an educator.”

“You are now. I won’t accept anyone else.” When he pushed off the door and walked back a pace, Brynn had her chance to run. But oddly, her feet remained firmly in place, as if Iain held her there by some spell. “I’ll expect you tomorrow morning. In fact, I’m very much looking forward to it, Brynn Campbell.”

* * *

The next morning, Brynn stood outside Blue Moon Corp., debating with herself. She didn’t want to go in. But she couldn’t turn back. Iain Chapman must have been paying Cass an ass load of money, because her boss was adamant that Brynn, and only Brynn, was the right person for this job.

Yesterday, after getting back to her office, Brynn had tried, in her ineffectual way, to persuade Cassandra to let her off the hook. Brynn had recounted all of the work she had piled up, the clients who were waiting on their curricula, and the newsletter that was due in three days, but Cass refused to budge.

“There’s no one else available, Brynn, and I’m not going to lose this client.”

“Iain Chapman is very resistant. A more experienced educator—”

“Sorry, kid, but you’re going to have to do this whether you like it or not.”

Not.

Cass took her by the shoulders. “This is like that time in college when I ran my car into a stop sign in order to get out of my biology final. The doctor refused to sign a waiver saying I had a concussion, and I had to take the test anyway. I may have failed Biology 101, but I learned a valuable life lesson.”

What the hell was she talking about? “I don’t understand the correlation, Cass.”

“I learned that sometimes in life, you have to face your fear. This is your fear, Brynn, and this is your time to shine. Go shine, girlfriend.”

Brynn closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to shine. I just want to do my job.”

“Maybe shining
is
your job, did you ever think of that?” Cass dropped her hands and stepped back. “Now, I have to take Nef to the vet. I probably won’t be back today. Hold down the fort, okay?”

Brynn shuffled out the door, feeling like an utter failure. Why couldn’t she just stand up for herself?
Because you want people to like you, jellyfish.
A conflict resolution specialist who avoided conflict at all costs. Oh, the irony.

So now, here Brynn stood this morning, staring at the half-moon logo, telling herself to open the door. She hadn’t gotten more than two hours of sleep last night, and when she had dozed off, she’d dreamed of Iain. She’d awakened in a sweat, her body heavy with need and not an orgasm to be had. So no, Brynn didn’t want to go in there and be subjected to that hot piece of British ass. Not again.

But she had to.

When the office door opened, she jumped.

Marc Atwell stopped just shy of running into her. “Brynn, you all right? You look a little pale.”

She nodded. “I’m good. Just getting ready to meet Iain.”

“He’s in his office. Go on in.” He held the door for her.

No chance of backing out now. Brynn adjusted her purse strap and walked forward. She passed a few desks and smiled, trying to appear innocuous to the rattled employees.

Amelia beamed when she saw Brynn. “You’re here. Yay, I’m so glad.”

“Did I have a choice?” The assistant laughed as though Brynn had told a joke. She glanced down and spied a photo on Amelia’s desk—a ginger-haired kid with bright blue eyes. “Your son?” Brynn asked, stalling for time.

“Yep, that’s my Tyler. Too smart for his own good. Now go on, honey. Iain’s waiting.”

Grasping the doorknob, Brynn tried once again to get a grip on her nerves. She didn’t have much success as she quietly stepped into Iain’s office and took a second to study him as he sat behind his desk. He concentrated on the computer screen, and his brows dipped toward the bridge of his nose. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered. “Hey.”

When he looked up and saw her, his expression cleared and a predatory glimmer dawned in his eyes. “Brynn, good to see you—although I’m surprised. To be honest, love, I thought you might bottle it.”

She walked farther into the room. “What does that mean?”

“I thought you’d chicken out and refuse to come back.” Boy, did he have her number. “Glad you made it. I’d hate to get you in trouble with your boss.”

She let that slide without comment. “Are you ready to get started?”

He pushed away from the desk and stood, gathering his jacket. As he walked toward her, he slid it on and tugged at each cuff. “Absolutely. Shall we go?”

“Go? No, I brought you a binder.” She held it up. “I even have a list of exercises.”

Iain removed the notebook from her hands and tossed it in the chair. “No need for all that. We’ll wing it.”

“You mean ignore the lessons? But there are helpful worksheets in there, guided instructions.”

“Look, Brynn, I don’t do textbooks and exercises, right? I prefer a more realistic approach. So while we look at a few potential buildings I might be interested in buying, you can teach me how to be a smashing leader.”

“How am I supposed to do that without the manual?”

“You wrote the manual.” He circled her temple with his finger. “It’s all up here, innit?”

“
I
don’t believe this is a good idea.”

“
I
happen to disagree. And the customer’s always right.”

“Not in this case.”

“Especially in this case, as I happen to be the customer.” Iain grabbed her hand and walked through the outer office, dragging Brynn behind him like a toy wagon.

Amelia pursed her lips in disapproval. “It’s best to go along, honey. He always gets his way.”

Employees in the front office watched in silence as Brynn tried to pull free from his grasp, but Iain’s grip, while not tight, was unyielding. Keeping her head down, Brynn felt the rising tide of heat cover her neck. She hated this, hated being the focus of everyone’s attention. If she’d just stood up to Cass in the first place, none of this would be happening.

Iain led her to the elevators. Once he punched the button, he finally let go of her hand. He hadn’t been rough, but she flexed her fingers anyway. He glanced down at her. She wouldn’t look at him.

When the doors opened, Iain gestured for Brynn to get
in first. She did, her shoulders rigid, her back straight.

He climbed on and instead of facing the doors, he planted himself in front of her, his big, lean body demanding her attention. “You’re angry.”

“
I
don’t appreciate being manhandled. And
I
don’t like being made a spectacle of in your office.” She refused to look at his face and kept her eyes trained on the numbers as they lit up on descent. “I’m here in a professional capacity.”

He took a step closer, completely disregarding her personal space, blocking out the numbers, and forcing her to meet his gaze. “What do you think you can teach me, professionally speaking?”

“If your treatment of me is anything to go by, you have a lot to learn. I’m surprised you haven’t been sued a dozen times—for harassment, for assault.”

“Assault?” He sounded shocked. “Brynn, I’d never hurt you. I was just trying to speed this along. I have an appointment in forty-five minutes. You’d have argued, politely, which takes even longer. I’d have countered. Ultimately, I’d have won.” Iain unpocketed his hand and cupped her jaw, using his thumb to follow the curve of her cheek. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you. Yeah? Forgive me?”

At his grazing touch, Brynn’s heart kicked into overdrive. It was so wrong, but she melted the moment he placed his warm hand on her. God, he smelled good—manly, earthy, with that hint of bergamot. Though he’d shaved, she could see the dark, shaded area on his cheeks and chin, hovering beneath the surface of his skin. His five o’clock shadow probably made an appearance around noon. His brows were sleek arches above warm, brown eyes. Iain Chapman was beautiful.