Trapped with the Tycoon (4 page)

The image of Zara in her bed wasn’t new. He didn’t need to say the words aloud to conjure up a vivid image. He’d already had her in bed several times in his mind.

“I can’t sleep.”

He knew a cure for insomnia.

“It’s too quiet,” she continued. “I usually sleep with a fan because I can’t handle the silence at night.”

Interesting. Braden bent his elbow and rested his head on his palm. “Are you afraid to stay here alone?”

“Not really. It’s just my old place was so much smaller, and this house has always had that creepy factor, you know? It’s old, it creaks and groans. Then there’s the rumor it’s haunted.” She laughed. “I guess when I’m alone with my thoughts, I let my imagination run wild.”

“It’s not unusual for these old homes to have some ghost story. They’re either based off some truth people believe, or they make for a good resale value for those seeking adventure.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not up for an adventure and I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Braden found he liked hearing her talk. He liked how soft her voice was, how it carried through the darkness and hit him straight with a shot of arousal. So he wanted to keep her talking.

“Since we both can’t sleep, why don’t you tell me the ghost story?”

He saw her lick her lips as she clutched the blanket near her chest. Thanks to the dim lighting, Braden found her even more alluring. Sleep wasn’t even a priority.

“It’s silly, actually. Apparently there was a young couple in love, and supposedly the man went off to the army and never returned. There are stories he died in the war, stories he fell in love with another. Who knows? She went on to marry, but the rumor is you can still hear her crying.”

Braden knew that story all too well. Considering this house had been in his family at the time Zara was referring to. And the woman was his great-great...several greats, grandmother. He’d always heard the story that the man who went to the army was actually her husband and he’d been killed. She’d remarried, had children but, supposedly, never got over her first love. A tragic story, a romantic one for those who were into that sort of thing...and his Irish family most definitely was.

“But, if I ever hear a woman crying in this house, it will take me one giant leap to get out of here,” Zara went on with a light laugh. “An intruder I can handle. A ghost, not so much. At least a real person I can shoot.”

The more she talked, the more Braden found he didn’t like her in this big house alone. But, if she had a firearm, at least she could defend herself.

What if Shane showed up? The man obviously called her drunk, and, on a good night with clear roads, what would stop him from just coming over, forcing his way in? And now that she worked for Braden, Shane would see that as a betrayal. The man was that egotistical and warped.

“But I’m not sure a woman would be crying over a man if she was married to another,” Zara went on as she shifted beneath her covers. “I mean, I can’t imagine loving one man, let alone falling in love twice. Or maybe she’d just married the second guy so she wasn’t lonely. I’ll never be that desperate.”

Braden thought to his parents. They’d been in love, they’d raised a family and they’d had a bond that Braden wanted to have someday. His mother passed when Braden had been a pre-teen, and the car accident that claimed her had an impact on the entire family. They became stronger, more unified than before because they realized just how short life was.

Not now, but one day he’d have a family of his own. First, though, he’d have those scrolls back in his family’s possession and steer his family right. He refused to bring a family into his life when there were enemies, people who used loved ones as a weakness to exploit.

“You’ve never been in love? Never knew people in love?” he asked, easing up to rest his back against the headboard.

“I’ve never seen love firsthand, no.” Zara turned onto her back, lacing her hands on top of the blanket. “My grandmother loved me and I loved her, but as far as a man and woman... I’m not sure true love exists. Have you been in love?”

Even though he’d removed everything but his pants, heat enveloped Braden. Granted, it could be because he was in the company of a woman he wanted more than his next breath, but honestly, the logs were doing a great job, and with the door closed, the thick air was starting to become too much.

“Would you mind if I turned the logs down a bit?” he asked.

“Nice way to dodge my question.” She jumped up from the chaise and threw him a smile. “I’ll turn them down. It is getting a bit warm in here.”

Braden watched her move across the room. In her black, body-hugging dress she’d been a knockout, but in her sweatshirt and leggings with her hair in a ponytail, she almost seemed...innocent, vulnerable.

Damn it, he didn’t want to see her that way. He didn’t want this to become personal with emotions getting in the way of his quest to get her in his bed and search for the scrolls.

And when the hell had he officially added her to his list of must-haves?

Somewhere between dancing with her and settling in for their sleepover.

As she started back to the chaise, she gestured toward him. “If you’re hot, you can, um...you can take your pants off. I won’t look. I mean, I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for either of us, but I want you to be... Sorry, I’m rambling. Go ahead, take your pants off. I’ll turn around.”

She was killing him. Slowly, surely, killing him.

But the lady said he could remove his pants. So remove them he would.

Four

J
ust as Braden unzipped and started to lower his pants, Zara cried out in pain, followed quickly by words that would’ve made his mama blush.

With pants hanging open, Braden carefully crossed the space. “What is it?”

“Banged the side of my ankle on this damn chaise,” she said through gritted teeth. “Stupid scrolled legs on this thing.”

Without thinking, Braden dropped to his knees before her. His hands ran down the leg closest to the chaise, gently roaming over her tight, knit pants.

When she hissed, he pulled back and glanced up. The light was even dimmer now that she’d turned the logs down, but the miniscule candle flickered just enough of a glow for him to make out those heavy lids and the desire that stared back at him.

Keeping his eyes locked on to hers, Braden slid his fingers around her slender ankle once again. “Does this hurt?”

“Just tender.”

Trailing his fingertips to another spot, he asked, “How about here?”

“No.”

Weighing his next movement, Braden moved his hand on up to her calf. Zara sucked in a breath, and he knew it was for a whole other reason. Gliding over the back of her knee, he curled his hands around her thigh as he shifted closer to her. With his other hand, he slid beneath the hem of her sweatshirt to grip her waist. Satiny skin met his palm, and he’d swear she trembled and broke out in goose bumps right that second.

“Braden,” she murmured.

“Relax.”

Ironic he was telling her to relax when his own body was strung tighter than a coil ready to spring into action.

“This isn’t appropriate,” she whispered. If her tone had held any conviction whatsoever, he would’ve stopped, but with the way she’d panted his name, with the way her hips slightly tilted toward him, he wasn’t about to ignore what her body was so obviously telling him.

He continued to allow his hands the freedom to roam as he came to his feet, pulling her with him. With one hand settled on her hip and one just beneath her shirt, he watched as Zara stared up at him, her eyes locked on to his. He refused to break the connection, didn’t want to sever the intensity of this moment.

That warm skin begged for his touch, and it was all Braden could do not to jerk this shirt up and over her head so he could fully appreciate the woman. The seduction of Zara would have to be slow, romantic and all about her. He could handle that order because right now he wanted to feel her, wanted to have her come apart.

The second he encountered silk over her breast, he wasted no time in reaching around and unfastening her bra. Now that she was freed of the restraint, he cupped both breasts in his palms and watched with utter satisfaction as her lids drifted closed, as a groan escaped from her lips.

Why did she have to feel so amazing? Why was he fighting taking what he wanted instead of giving her full pleasure? This had to be about Zara, about seduction.

Braden slid one hand down to the top of her pants. Zara’s eyes snapped open. She scrambled from beneath his touch. Her eyes darted away as she righted her clothes. Damn it, he’d pushed her too far when he couldn’t control his hormones.

“This can’t happen,” she stated, her voice shaky. “We— I...”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he told her as she jerked her sweatshirt down as if she was trying to erase what had just occurred. “We’re adults, and dancing around the attraction wasn’t going to last for long. I’ve been wanting to touch you since you walked into my office.”

Zara’s hands came up to her face. “I can’t believe I did that. I just let you...” She dropped her hands and waved them in the air. “I let you...”

“Yes?” he asked, trying not to smile as she struggled.

“Is this how you treat all your new employees?”

Braden reached for her arms, pulling her flush against his body. “I’ve never in my life slept with an employee.”

“We haven’t slept together,” she retorted.

“Yet.”

Her gasp had him laughing, but he didn’t release her. “You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you? I’m not easy, Braden. I don’t want you to even think that for a minute. I shouldn’t have let this go so far.”

“Zara, if I thought you were easy, I wouldn’t waste my time trying. I look for the challenge, the chase, the risk in everything.”

Now she laughed as she shook her head. Her hands were trapped between their bodies. “You’re already talking about sleeping with me and you’ve not even kissed me. I’d say that’s—”

His lips slammed on to hers. Hadn’t kissed her? Was she complaining?

For one troubling moment, Braden worried she’d push him away, but after her hesitancy, she finally opened up and accepted what he was giving.

Her hands flattened against his chest as he coaxed her mouth open and tipped her head. Kissing Zara was just another total-body experience he hadn’t anticipated. Kisses were either good or bad. With Zara, they were arousing, a stepping-stone for more and a promise of all the passion she kept hidden away.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d start craving more of her touches, more of her soft moans, because damn it, the woman got into a man’s system and...

No. Hell, no. She was not getting into his system. Nobody was penetrating that until he was damn good and ready.

Braden had to force himself to step back, to put some distance between their heated bodies.

“There. Now you’ve been kissed.” He licked his own lips, needing to taste her again. “If you’re feeling cheated on anything else, I can oblige.”

Her eyes widened as she trailed her gaze down his bare chest. “N-no. You’ve obliged enough.”

Braden smiled. “Then we both need to get some sleep.”

As if he hadn’t just had her body trembling against his seconds ago, he turned and sat back on her bed. Zara hadn’t moved from her spot next to the chaise.

“Is your ankle okay?”

“My ankle?” She glanced down. “Oh, yeah. It’s sore, but fine. Um...good night.”

He watched as she slowly sank down onto her makeshift bed. He could practically hear her thinking and he knew full well she was replaying how far she’d let him go. Hell, he was, too, but he had to push that aside and keep his eye on the main reason he was here and not how close he’d been to getting her to explode in his arms.

“Don’t overthink this, Zara.” She continued to lie there, looking up at the ceiling. “Get some sleep.”

Because the sooner she fell asleep, the quicker he could start looking through the house.

* * *

How could the man just fall asleep? Seriously? Braden acted as if this was no big deal, as if he’d patted her on the head and sent her off to bed like an obedient lover.

And the longer she lay here, the more she was wondering how she’d lost control of that situation so fast. Oh, yeah. He’d touched her. That was it. The man touched her, looked at her with those piercing eyes, and she’d been helpless. For the briefest of moments she’d forgotten all about her job, the fact her boss had his hands beneath her shirt and was working his way into her pants. Thankfully, she’d come to her senses before they’d crossed a point of no return. She needed this job, even more than she needed a one-night stand.

Braden O’Shea was a powerful man, and she was not immune to his allure. Yet she’d told herself over and over this evening how she couldn’t get intimate with him, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn’t risk losing this job because she was a sad cliché and slept with her boss. How tacky was that? She prided herself on being a professional, yet the man who’d written her a colossal check was snoozing in her bed.

Whatever his secret for flipping the horny switch, she’d like to know because she was still just as turned on as before she’d put the brakes on.

She’d never known a man who was so giving, but then she hadn’t known many men like Braden O’Shea. Something told her he was quite different than any other guy she’d dated.

Zara nearly groaned as she tugged on her blanket and rolled over. Dated? She and Braden were far from dating. He’d given her a few minutes of toe-curling excitement, and that was all. He was stuck in her house thanks to Mother Nature’s fury, and that was the extent of their personal relationship.

From here on out, no more touching, no more kissing. Though she had to admit that kiss had been nearly as potent as the touching.

What would morning bring? The questions whirled around in her head. Would he act as if nothing happened? Would he be able to leave, or would he be stuck here for another night? Zara wished he weren’t her boss, wished this powerful, sexy man were stuck in her house under different circumstances, but the fact was he was helping to pay her bills. And without the prestige of working for him, it would take her a lot longer to get the recognition she needed for her new company.

She wasn’t worried about his questionable reputation. The O’Sheas were legends, and despite the rumors surrounding Braden’s father’s dealings, Zara had only heard praise about Braden. He may be tough when needed, he may even show off his brute force like he had with Shane, but none of that made him a bad guy. And the way her body was still thrumming, Zara felt Braden was indeed a very good guy.

No matter what her common sense was telling her now, Zara couldn’t help but want more. Not being able to touch Braden at all left her feeling somewhat cheated. Those broad shoulders, those lean hips...a man with a body like that surely knew how to use it in the most effective ways.

Gripping her blanket beneath her chin, Zara tried not to think about the man who lay just behind her, in her bed, shirtless. She tried not to think of how he’d looked at her when he’d been kneeling on the floor. She tried to keep her body from tingling even more at the fantasy of how they’d be if she crawled in between those sheets with him.

Her best hope now would be to fall asleep and dream, because having the real thing was simply out of the question.

* * *

Braden padded from the bedroom. It had taken Zara over an hour to fall asleep. She’d tossed and turned, letting out soft little moans every now and then, and there wasn’t a doubt in Braden’s mind she was just as sexually frustrated as he was.

Zara was one of the most passionate women he’d ever met. And when she let her guard down...purely erotic. Knowing she was lying over there restless nearly had him forgetting the plan to search the house tonight and instead dragging her back up to her own bed and finishing what they both wanted.

But she’d finally dozed off, if the subtle snoring was any indication. Braden threw one more look her way as he gently closed the door behind him. The logs were keeping the room plenty warm, because this hallway was flat-out chilly. The temperature must have really dropped outside for the inside to get so cold, so fast. At least he’d put his shirt and socks back on, so that was a minor help.

With his phone in his pocket, Braden flicked on the small flashlight that had been on Zara’s bedside table. He swung it back and forth down the hallway, finally deciding to venture into the rooms toward the end where he’d never been before.

He’d seen the layout of the home several times. The floor plan was ingrained into his mind, the blueprints locked away in his home office, but seeing the rooms firsthand was entirely different. He knew there was a third floor, but right now he was going to focus on the bedrooms that sat empty. Every inch of this home could be a hiding spot, and Braden had to start somewhere. Sticking close to Zara was the smartest move right now.

There was something eerie about an old house that was pitch-black with the sounds of whirling winds and creaking. But fear never entered Braden’s mind. Nothing scared him, except the prospect of not finding these scrolls. His father had wanted them back in the family’s possession, but once Patrick had passed away six months ago, Braden knew this endeavor now fell to him. That, and strategically severing the ties to an underbelly of the city he wanted nothing to do with.

Nearly a decade ago, his father had supposedly ordered a prominent businessman to be taken out, along with the man’s assistant. That dangerous rumor kept filtering around, but if Braden could pull this family around, point them in the right direction, perhaps such whispered speculations would be put to rest.

Everything would take time. This was a business Braden learned to be patient in. Effective, forceful and controlling, but patient.

He’d never ordered any killings, prayed to God he never had to. Transitioning was difficult, but Braden had to. He had to secure a future for the family he eventually wanted, but at the same time fulfill his father’s dying wishes.

As he entered the last bedroom, he stood in the doorway and moved his light around, familiarizing himself with the furniture layout. More built-in bookcases. Nice charm to add to each room, but a pain in the ass for someone on a scavenger hunt.

Ryker had mentioned searching the obvious places, but Braden was here now and wanted to see everything for himself firsthand.

Braden slid the flashlight beneath his arm so he could use both hands to shift books and knickknacks around on the shelves. So far no hidden door, no secret hole hidden behind a panel. Nothing. But he wasn’t discouraged. Getting into this house was one of the biggest hurdles, and here he was. Now he just needed to be patient, because the scrolls were here. They had to be.

The irony that his family unofficially dealt in retrieving stolen relics and heirlooms, and they couldn’t even get back their own possessions, was not lost on him. Granted, they technically stole back the items, but those words would never come out of his mouth, and Ryker was the guy who did all the dirty work. So in a sense, Braden never saw how the items were taken back. So long as it was done correctly and satisfied clients all over the globe, the details didn’t matter. The auction house gave them the front they needed to play modern-day Robin Hood, but the rumors around the family gave them that edge that helped them with their tough, hard-ass image.

Generations of corruption would be hard to move past, but Braden was determined. The art dealings would continue, and there was no harm in taking back what was rightfully due to those who had lost heirlooms, as long as it didn’t require any violence. But any more than lying and stealing had to cease...sooner rather than later.