Trapped with the Tycoon (5 page)

Ryker wasn’t too keen on Braden’s new, somewhat lily-white direction, but Braden wasn’t asking for permission. He was in charge now, and Ryker would have to understand that any sort of bloodshed was a thing of the past.

Which reminded him, he needed to check in with their right-hand man who was currently in London looking for a rare piece of art that needed to be returned to a client in Paris during the next auction.

By the time he’d finished the two large bedrooms at the end of the hall, Braden was no closer than when he’d started. Sleep was going to have to happen because his eyes were burning, and most likely it was nearly morning at this point. He couldn’t help but wonder what all the unpacked boxes were, though. He’d seen a few in her kitchen, several in the living room, and with her closet door open, he’d spotted a good amount stacked in there. Hadn’t she said she’d lived here for a few months?

Those unpacked boxes held so much potential, but how many were hers and how many were already here for years?

Using his flashlight to head back to the bedroom, Braden flicked it off as soon as he reached the doorway. The second he stepped inside, warmth surrounded him. Zara lay on her side, her hand tucked beneath her cheek, her ponytail now in disarray as hair draped over her forehead and down the side of her face.

Slipping back out of his shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off the sleeping beauty. He had tried to keep his hands off her. Okay, he could’ve tried harder, but damn it, something about her made him want to get closer to her in the most primal way possible.

He knew she was a sexy, take-charge woman. The fact she was a businesswoman, career-driven and independent, was a definite turn-on. But after dancing with her and seeing that flash of vulnerability in her eyes when Shane had entered the picture, Braden felt even more territorial...and not in the typical employee/employer way. There was no way he could not step into her life.

Braden slid between the sheets and refused to acknowledge the arousal threatening to keep him awake. He needed sleep because when morning came, he fully intended to continue his quest for the scrolls, and he sure as hell planned on more seducing. Multitasking had never been this sweet.

Five

Z
ara stared at her cabinets and sighed. Was it appropriate to offer your millionaire boss a s’mores Pop-Tart or a cherry one for breakfast? Because that was the extent of her options. Well, she had other flavors because she was a junk-food junkie, and Pop-Tarts were her drug of choice.

He’d still been asleep when she’d slipped from the warm room. Now she stood shivering in her kitchen and wondering when the electricity would be restored. The snow was still coming down in big, fat flakes, and there was no sign of any cars in sight.

Grabbing three different varieties of breakfast pastries, Zara spun on her fuzzy socks and raced back up the steps. Mercy, it had gotten cold in here. When she eased open the door, Braden was shifting around on her bed, sheets slipping down a bit. His glorious chest looked even better with daylight streaking through the window. Granted, it had also looked spectacular on display with the fire flickering last night.

With boxes of food under one arm, she gently closed the door behind her, but Braden’s eyes instantly popped open and zeroed in on her. Suddenly she was pinned in place. That piercing gaze penetrated her across the room. Such a potent man to be able to hold such power over someone without even saying a word.

Slowly, he sat up. The sheet fell to his waist, giving up an even more tantalizing view of all that tan skin with dark hair covering his chest. Dark ink curved over one shoulder, and Zara found herself wanting to trace the lines of that tat. With her tongue.

Down, girl.

“Breakfast,” she said. “I hope you like Pop-Tarts.”

His brows drew in. “I can honestly say I’ve never had one.”

Of course he hadn’t. Not only was he a bajillionaire, he had the body of a sculpted god. Someone who looked like that wouldn’t fill themselves with the finer junkie things in life.

“Well, you’re in for a treat.” She crossed the room, trying to ignore the fact that she looked like a hot mess after last night. “I’m a connoisseur of all things unhealthy and amazingly tasty.”

She sat the boxes on the trunk at the end of her bed and opened each one. She tried to focus on anything other than the fact he still hadn’t reached for his shirt. Was he going to spend their entire time half naked? So this is what the saying “both a blessing and a curse” meant.

“I have s’mores, cherry and chocolate.” She glanced back up as he slid from the bed and came to stand beside her. “Take whatever you want. I have plenty more downstairs.”

He eyed the boxes as if he truly had no clue what to choose. “I’m a chocolate lover, so the cherry is out. Should I go all in for the s’mores?”

Zara smiled. “They’re the best, in my opinion.”

She handed him a foil package and grabbed one for herself before heading over to stand near the logs. She needed to keep a bit of distance, because if the shirtless thing wasn’t enough to make her want a replay of last night, the fact that he had sheet marks—
her
sheets—on his arm and face and he smelled musky and sexy was more than enough to have her near begging. And Zara wouldn’t beg for any man, especially one who wrote her checks.

“You can have all you want, though.” She was babbling. Nerves did that to a woman. “I forgot the drinks. I’m sure the fridge kept things cold, but I’ll need to—”

“Zara. Breathe.” Braden’s hand gripped her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. “I’m making you nervous again.”

Swallowing, she turned to face him. Holding his heavy-lidded gaze, Zara tried not to look at the sheet mark on his cheek. A minor imperfection that made this man seem so...normal.

“I’m not nervous,” she said, defensively. “Why would I be nervous? I mean, just because you... I...last night...and now your shirt is still off, so I’m not sure what to do or how to act. I’ve never had a man here, let alone my boss. So this whole morning-after thing is different, not that we did anything to discuss the typical morning after...”

Closing her eyes, Zara let out a sigh. She shook her head to clear her thoughts before looking back up to Braden. “I’m rambling. This is just a bit awkward for me, and I didn’t want to make a total fool of myself, but I’m doing just that.”

Braden took the package from her hands and tore it open. After pulling out a Pop-Tart, he held it up to her.

“Why don’t you eat?” he suggested. “I’m not worried about what happened last night, but if you want to run through it again, that’s fine with me. Maybe we can discuss how much farther I wanted to go.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” Zara took the pastry he held up to her. “Maybe we should just check on the road conditions instead of reliving anything.”

Braden laughed as he tore open his own package. “Whatever you want. I’m at your mercy here.”

Did every word that came out of his mouth have to drip with sex appeal? Was he trying to torment her further? Because if this was him putting forth no effort to torture her, she’d hate to see when he actually turned on the charm.

Zara didn’t want to think about staying in this room with him for another day. If she didn’t get out of here, her hormones may explode.

They ate their gourmet breakfast, and Braden muttered something about them being amazing before he went and grabbed a different flavor. Traditional chocolate this time. While he had round two, Zara went to dig out her old boots. She was going to have to get the frozen food outside and put it into the snow to stay cold. There was no other way, not if she wanted to salvage her groceries.

After she shoved her fuzzy-socked feet into her boots, Zara headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Braden swallowed his last bite and crumbled his foil in his hand. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to run downstairs and get the food from the freezer and fridge and set it out in the snow. It will stay cold there. I don’t know what else to do with it.”

Crossing to the bed, Braden reached for his shirt and shrugged into it. “I’ll help.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve got it.”

Ignoring her, he buttoned each button with quick, precise movements. “What else do I have to do?”

Keep that potent, sexually charged body away from hers? Stay in the warm room while she went outside and cooled off?

Zara knew she wasn’t going to win this argument, so she turned and headed from the room. Braden closed the bedroom door behind them. The cooler air in the hallway slid right through Zara, helping her to focus on something other than the man who pretended like make out sessions were passed out each night before bedtime like a hug good-night.

Should her body still be humming, given they hadn’t even gotten to the good part? Seriously?

As soon as she went into the kitchen, she turned to Braden, only he wasn’t there. Zara backtracked a couple steps to find him in the living room staring at the built-in bookcases.

“This house has a lot of the same old-Boston charm mine does,” he told her without turning around. “The trim on the top of these cabinets, the detailed edging. It’s all so rare to find in homes these days. I appreciate when properties have been taken care of.”

“I imagine you see quite a variety of homes with various decor in your line of work.”

Throwing her a glance over his shoulder, he nodded. “I’ve seen million-dollar homes that were polished to perfection, every single thing in them brand-new. But it’s the old houses that really pull me in. Mac is more the guy who wants all things shiny and new.”

Zara crossed her arms to ward off the chill. The only vibe she’d gotten of the younger O’Shea brother was that he was a player. And with his looks and charm, she could totally see women batting their lashes and dropping their panties.

Braden ran a fingertip over a small glass church her grandmother had loved. “He’s working on the opening of our Miami location. That fast-paced lifestyle and the warmer climate are also more his speed.”

“You guys are quite opposite, then.”

“Except when it comes to business,” Braden amended as he moved to another shelf and carefully adjusted a pewter picture frame holding a picture of Zara as a child. “We see eye to eye on all things regarding the auction house.”

“I’ve always hated that picture,” Zara stated with a laugh. “My grandmother took that on my first trip to the beach. I was eleven and had just entered that awkward stage girls go through.”

Turning to face her, Braden crossed his arms and offered a slight grin. “Whatever phase you went through, you’ve more than made up for it.”

Zara shivered at his smooth words. Apparently this smooth talker liked a woman with curves.

“You didn’t go to a beach until you were eleven?” he asked, moving right on.

Oh, no. She didn’t want to get into her childhood. Granted, the first decade of her life wasn’t terrible, but there certainly were no family vacations, no fun beach pictures or pictures of any kind, really. Her parents had been rich, beyond rich, but they couldn’t buy affection. They’d tried. Zara had more toys, more nannies than any one child needed or deserved.

When her parents had died, Zara had been numb. She hadn’t even known how to feel, how to react. How did a child respond to losing the two people who were supposed to love her more than anything, yet had never said the words aloud? They’d shown her in ways, material ways, but that was the only way they knew how to express themselves.

That money she’d always thought her parents possessed was suddenly gone. Her parents’ overspending had finally caught up with them, and Zara was paying the price. Apparently her parents owed everybody and their brother thousands, if not hundreds of thousands. Zara’s grandmother had maneuvered funds, had borrowed against this house and had paid off every last debt her parents had left. Now the money was gone after all the debts were paid.

Just another reason Zara was determined to succeed in her business. She wanted to make her grandmother proud, even if she wasn’t here to physically see Zara’s triumph. She didn’t want to have to sell this house that had been in her family since the Depression. Her grandmother had loved this place, and Zara wanted that last piece of family to hold on to.

“Zara?” Braden took a cautious step toward her, then another. “Where did you go?”

Zara shook her head. “Nowhere worth traveling to again. Let’s get this food outside and get back upstairs. I’m freezing.”

Just as she turned, Braden curled his fingers around her arm. With a glance from his hand to his eyes, Zara thought she saw a flash of something other than the desire she’d seen previously. Those piercing eyes were now filled with concern, and Zara didn’t want him to be concerned for her. Having compassion was just another level of intimacy she couldn’t afford to slide into with this man. It would be all too easy to lean on someone, and she’d not been raised to be dependent on others.

Zara didn’t want to identify the feelings coursing through her, not when her emotions were already on edge and her body hummed even louder each time he neared, let alone touched her.

“Come on, Braden.” She forced a wide smile and nodded toward the kitchen. “Let’s get this done.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but finally he nodded and released her. Maybe if they could focus on food, not freezing to death and no conversations involving personal issues, they’d get through this blizzard without any more sensual encounters or touching.

As she plucked her coat from the peg by the back door, Zara nearly laughed at her delusional thought. No way could she pretend Braden being here was just like having a friend over. Where he’d gripped her arm seconds ago was still tingling, and in a very short time, she’d find herself back upstairs, closed off in her bedroom with a man who made her ache for things she had no business wanting.

* * *

“That’s all of it.” Milk, eggs, cheese, frozen pizzas, meat and other groceries were tucked down into the snow to keep them from going bad. “Let’s get back inside before my toes fall off.”

Even though she had her fuzzy socks on under her rubber boots, her toes were going numb.

Braden held up a hand. “Wait,” he whispered. “Did you hear that?”

Zara stilled. All she heard was silence because no cars were out. It was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist, leaving only her and the boss she’d dreamed of last night.

“I don’t hear anything,” she told him, shoving that fantasy aside. “You have to be freezing. Come on.”

He still wore his suit and the dress coat from the party. At least she could bulk up in warm layers. No way was he not freezing out here.

“Wait a second.” His eyes searched the ground near her house. Slowly, he took a step, then another. “Go on inside if you don’t want to wait, but I heard a cat.”

A cat? She didn’t own a cat. Compassion was not in her genetic makeup, so she’d spared all animals and sworn to never own one. She wouldn’t have the first clue what to do if left in charge of a living, breathing thing.

Just as she reached for the door handle, Braden crouched down. Zara gasped when he pulled a snow-covered kitten up in his gloved hands. Instantly he cradled the animal to his chest and swiped the snow off its back.

Braden took cautious steps toward the back door, keeping the kitten tucked firmly just inside his coat. Zara realized his intentions immediately.

“You’re bringing that inside?”

His eyes went from the gray bundle to her. “Yes. He’ll freeze to death out here. He’s wet and shivering.”

Zara glanced around. “Where’s the mom? Aren’t animals made to live outside? They have fur on.”

His brows shot up. “You have a coat on, too. Do you want to stay out here and see if you survive?”

Swallowing, she shook her head. “Um...so what do we do once it’s inside?”

Braden tipped his head to the side. “You’ve never had a pet, have you?”

“Never.”

Braden’s sharp gaze softened. “Let’s talk inside. This little guy needs warmth, and so do we.”

Zara opened the back door and ushered Braden in ahead of her. Once they had their coats and boots off, Braden started searching her cabinets. He seemed to be satisfied with the box of crackers he’d found.

“Grab a bowl of water and let’s get back upstairs where it’s warm.”