Читать книгу Trapped With The Tycoon - Jules Bennett - Страница 10

Three

Zara stepped into her bedroom, even more aware of the crackling intimacy. The intense stare Braden had offered, the way his eyes had darted to her lips more than once...she wasn’t naive and she wasn’t afraid of the rumors of him being such a bad boy.

Although he’d felt very bad in a delicious way when he’d been dancing with her earlier.

However, she was fully aware that he was her boss and no matter how much she ached for him to make a move, she knew anything beyond a professional relationship would be a mistake. Besides, she couldn’t commit herself to anything other than a physical relationship with any man, so that definitely left Braden O’Shea out.

Zara suppressed a laugh as they stood just inside her bedroom. Yes, this was totally professional, especially since she had a stack of bras on her dresser she’d yet to put away. Thankfully he hadn’t shone the light there yet. At least the unpacked boxes were lining her walk-in closet, so that was helpful.

“My room is the only one with a king bed, but I can sleep on the chaise and you can have the bed.”

Her face flushed. Why had she said anything about a bed? Why talk about the elephant in the room? She’d been so worried about this situation becoming awkward, but she was the one making it worse. Clearly Braden wasn’t nervous. And why should he be? He was well aware of how jittery she was, which only proved he held the upper hand here.

“I just meant that you’re a big guy and you’d be more comfortable in my bed—er, a bigger bed.” Great, Zara. Keep babbling. When one foot goes in the mouth, throw the other one in, as well.

Braden leaned against the door frame to her bedroom. With his light facing outward, she couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“I’m making you nervous.”

Clearly she wasn’t convincing him that she was confident. “No... Maybe a little.”

That low, rich laugh filled the bedroom, enveloping her in an awareness of just how intimate this situation was going to get, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Chemistry and attraction can often be misinterpreted as nerves.”

Zara couldn’t help but laugh. “Get off the attraction. I’m your employee, and your bold statements make this awkward.”

“I see no reason not to be bold.” He shifted, closing the gap slightly between them. “But I’ve promised not to bring up the matter again, so let’s just focus on staying warm. It’s late, and we both need sleep.”

Really? He was just going to leave it at that? Maybe he was going to hold true to his word. Zara was almost disappointed, but she shouldn’t be. Braden had to be strong, because if he continued to make remarks or advances, she didn’t know how long her self-control would hold out.

Hopefully the roads would be better tomorrow, and Braden could go home. Then this would all be a memory, and they would move on with their working relationship. Because that’s what they should do, right? He had another party coming up in a few months, and since she’d been hired as the O’Sheas’ permanent events coordinator, she had to keep her mind focused on her career.

“I’ll hold the light,” he told her. “Let’s get these logs on.”

After the logs were on and heat started filling the room, then they went in search of more flashlights, and Zara grabbed her cell. She had almost a full battery and she hoped it held out until the electricity came back on. If need be, she could always charge it in his car if the electricity stayed off too long.

Unfortunately, the snow was still coming down just as fierce as it had been, and with the roads being a hazard, Zara had no doubt it would be a while before crews could work on the lines.

Mother Nature clearly had it out for her. First the roads, now the electricity. Throw in some darkness and watch that sexual tension skyrocket and blow their clothes off.

Zara cringed. No. The clothes had to stay on. They were her only shield of defense because she’d already imagined her boss naked, and if he actually took that suit off, she would not be responsible for her actions.

Once back in her bedroom, Braden closed the door to keep the heat in. Zara had lit a candle and sat it on her nightstand. The flickering, warm glow sent the room to a level of romance that had no business being here.

And then the fact that she was still wearing her black dress hit her. Great. So much for keeping all the clothes on.

“Um, I’m going to have to change.” She hated how her tone sounded apologetic. This was her house, damn it. “I don’t have anything to offer you unless you can fit in a pair of small sweatpants and one of my T-shirts.”

“I’ll be fine. Go, get out of that dress.”

Those words combined with that sexy tone of his had her sighing. He’d promised not to mention sex, but the man practically oozed it with every action, every word.

“Can you wait in the hall for a second?” she asked.

Taking his own flashlight, Braden stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Zara quickly shoved her bras into her drawer and whipped her snug dress over her head. She peeled off her stockings and tossed them into a drawer, too. She really wanted to lose the bra, but she couldn’t get that comfortable with her sexy guest.

As she pulled on a pair of leggings and an oversize sweatshirt, Zara truly wished she’d met Braden under different circumstances. Maybe then they could explore this attraction, but she couldn’t risk intimacy when she needed this job, this recognition too much. She’d only had her grandmother, and now she was gone. There was no husband, no other family to fall back on if her financial world crumbled. Her company was only a year old, and being tied to the O’Sheas would launch her into a new territory of clientele.

Yes, the rumors of O’Shea’s Auction House being the front for illegal activity had been abuzz for years—decades, even—but the mystery surrounding the family only kept people more intrigued, so Zara would gladly ride the coattails of their popularity.

After sliding on a pair of fuzzy socks and pulling her hair into a ponytail, Zara opened the door. Braden was texting but glanced up at her and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“I had to check in with the security team. I try to keep them updated on my whereabouts.”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“You look...different.”

With a shrug, Zara glanced down to her outfit. “This is me in my downtime. I’m pretty laid-back.”

Why did the room seem so much smaller when he came back in from the hallway? Why did he have such a presence about him that demanded attention? And how the hell did she act? What was the proper protocol for bringing your billionaire boss to your house and then having him spend the night? Milk and cookies? Bourbon and a cigar? She honestly didn’t know the man on a personal level.

Zara’s cell vibrated on her dresser. With the screen facing down, she didn’t see the caller before she picked it up and automatically slid her finger over the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I wanted to make sure you made it home okay.”

“Shane.”

Zara’s eyes darted to Braden. In the dim light she could see his narrowed gaze, his jaw clenched.

“I know I acted like a jerk earlier, but I want another chance with you and I was worried about you getting home in this storm.”

Were his words slurring?

“Shane, it’s nearly one in the morning. Are you drunk?”

He must’ve shifted, because there was the slightest bit of static coming through the phone before he continued. “I miss you, Zara.”

She turned her back to Braden and rubbed her forehead. “I got home safe. Thanks for checking, but we really are over, Shane. Good night.”

“Don’t hang up.” Now his voice rose, as if the real Shane was emerging. “You’re selfish, you know that? I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re already dismissing me. We were good together, you know it.”

“No, we weren’t, and I’m done with—”

Suddenly the phone was ripped from her hand. Zara whirled around as Braden hit the end button and then turned the phone off.

“You won’t explain yourself to him.”

Zara sighed. Damn it, why did he have to be right? “He’s not been this persistent until the past week or so. I’m not sure why he wants to get back together so bad, but I swear he won’t affect my work with you.”

Braden closed the gap between them and stared down at her. The darkness slashing over half his face made him seem even more menacing, more intriguing.

“I don’t give a damn about that. I know you’re a professional. But I’m not going to stand here and listen to you defend yourself to an asshole who doesn’t deserve you.”

“Wow.” Zara crossed her arms and tried to process Braden’s words, his angry tone. “Um...thanks.”

Unsure what to do next, Zara glanced around the room. “I guess I’ll just grab a blanket and pillow and lie down. I’m pretty beat.”

The strain of the evening had seriously taken its toll on her, and all she wanted to do was crawl on to her chaise and fall dead asleep. Okay, maybe that wasn’t all she wanted to do, but doing her boss was out of the question.

By the time she’d gotten situated on the chaise, she glanced to her bed where Braden sat on the edge staring in her direction.

“What?”

“Are you going to be comfortable? I didn’t expect to take your bed.”

Seeing him there, knowing her sheets would smell like him long after he was gone, was just another layer of arousal she didn’t need.

“I’m perfectly comfortable. You’re the one still in a suit.”

With a soft laugh, he shook his head. In moments, he had his jacket off and was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt.

“Uh, wait. Are you undressing? Because—”

“Zara.” His hands froze on the buttons. “I’m just taking my shirt off.”

Just taking his shirt off. To which he will no doubt expose a chest she’ll want to stare at. With the light from the gas fireplace and the candle on the nightstand, she could see perfectly fine.

And yup. He’d taken his black dress shirt off and revealed an amazingly sculpted chest, smattered with dark hair and...was that ink on his arm?

“You’re staring,” he said without looking up at her. “You’re going to make me blush.”

Zara laughed. “I highly doubt you blush, let alone over a woman looking at you.” Because why deny the fact she had been? She’d been caught, but she didn’t care. The man was worth a good, long stare. “Good night, Braden.”

* * *

Her damn floral scent mocked him as he lay on top of her plush comforter. With his hands laced behind his head, Braden stared up at the ceiling watching the orange flickering glow from the candle. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. Besides the fact he had every intention of getting back up to check out the house after Zara had gone to sleep, how the hell could he actually rest when the object of his desire was lying only feet away?

He hadn’t expected to actually want her with such a passion and fierceness. Damn it. He knew he’d been attracted, but he’d passed being attracted long ago. Now he had a need so deeply embedded within him, he was going to go mad if he didn’t have her.

Zara had been knockout gorgeous in that black dress and those sexy heels earlier at his party. But seeing her in such a simple, natural way, with hair up and sweats on, had Braden questioning why the hell he wasn’t coercing her into this giant bed. He could have her clothes off in record time, despite what she’d said about mixing business and pleasure. The allure was there—the chemistry was hot enough to scorch them.

But he had a mission. One that couldn’t be forgotten just because he’d been sidetracked by this unexpected quest for Zara. He needed to focus. Sex was one thing, a marvelous thing actually, but she’d put up a defensive wall. He was alone in the house he’d been wanting in for quite some time. So why the hell was he lying here focused on what was denied to him instead of formulating a plan of where he’d search once she was fully asleep?

Braden suppressed a groan as he rolled to his side. He needed to start this process, so he could be ready to get the hell out when the roads cleared.

The scrolls had to be in this house. They had to be; he refused to believe any different. But at the same time, he had to be realistic. His family had lost this house and everything in it during the Great Depression—a little fact Zara most likely didn’t know.

In the decades that had passed, who’s to say someone hadn’t found the scrolls, moved them to another location and kept the secret to themselves?

A gnawing pit formed in his stomach. What if someone had found them and thought they were trash?

No, the scrolls were supposedly rolled up in small tubes. Nine different tubes for the nine works. They were somewhere, and Braden wasn’t going to leave this house until he’d searched every inch of it.

He thought of the built-in bookcases in the living room he’d spotted earlier when he’d ran his phone light over the room. He’d tried to be casual about it, no reason to raise a red flag with Zara, because, as of right now, she was totally unsuspecting and completely worried about being alone with him.

Since she’d walked into his office for the job, he knew he wanted her in his bed. No reason he couldn’t enjoy a little recreational activity and search at the same time. Besides, getting Zara to open up to him may be the angle they’d needed all along, even if Ryker just wanted to break in and be done with it.

No way in hell was Ryker getting close to Zara. He was mysterious at best, terrifying at worst. And women loved that mysterious side. He had no intention of Zara being one of those women. Zara was all Braden’s...for now.

Braden knew full well what Ryker did for the family. Ever since Ryker had come to be friends with Braden and Mac in grade school, their father had taken Ryker in as another son. By the time they were out of high school, Ryker was just another member of the family. The Black Sheep was too benign a term when referring to the man who did all the dirty work.

Braden stared across to Zara and realized she was looking right back at him. This was ridiculous. They were adults acting like horny teens trying to get a mental feel for what the other one was thinking.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he told her. “Do you need your bed back?”

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.