As the meal progressed, Gianna sat back and watched, amazed at the way the three brothers teased each other. She had two older brothers, but they were much older. She didn’t have the same kind of relationship that these men had with each other.
“Don’t you have a younger sister?” she whispered to Brant.
“Yes, Giselle. But she’s married to some prince in another country. She’ll be here for Christmas, but she can’t come back for every holiday like she used to. She’s happy, so we allow her to stay away.”
Mack and Reid both heard the comment. “I’d love to see Giselle’s reaction to you saying that we ‘allow’ her to do anything,” Mack snickered.
Reid laughed. “I think I’ll tell her you said that, just for the entertainment value.”
Brant rolled his eyes. “She only thinks she can take us on.”
“Really? Do you remember who she is married to?” Mack added in. He looked at Gianna. “It used to be fun to torment our little sister. But then she went and married a huge brute of a guy. We don’t mess with her nearly as much.”
Reid shook his head. “I could take Jaffri,” he announced.
Mack and Brant nodded. “I’d help. Again, just for the entertainment value.”
Gianna blinked bemusedly. “You’d fight a man for entertainment?”
The three men shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Selena groaned. “Don’t ask, Gianna. We’ll never understand the male mind. It’s a mystery better left undiscovered.”
Reid winked at her across the table. “Ah, but you love my mysteries.”
Gianna watched, smiling when Selena’s pale skin turned a delicate pink.
When the meal ended, no one moved. The men were too stuffed and Selena enjoyed taunting them with ideas about going for a run or a bike ride.
Eventually, the men cleared the table. Gianna wasn’t sure what was going on, but Selena relaxed with another glass of wine.
“I cooked, so the guys clean up.”
Gianna grinned and lifted her glass of wine. “I like this arrangement! In my house, everyone seems to cook, but it is always the women who clean up after all meals. I could get used to this!” Gianna glanced up to notice Brant staring at her from the kitchen, an odd look in his eyes. Again, an odd look that she simply couldn’t translate and that was frustrating.
“Yeah, well, next comes the football marathon,” Selena warned. “So brace yourself.” She stood up and waved. “Let’s give them space and go out by the fire pit. I love sitting by the fire in the cold evenings. And besides, it will be quieter out there.”
Gianna followed Selena out through a set of glass doors to a stone patio that surrounded a pool. The pool was covered now, but Gianna suspected that it would be a lovely place to sit and relax during the summer months. The pergola that covered a portion of the pool would add shade and there were several sitting areas, the furniture covered now to protect against winter weather. But it was nice and private, a retreat inside a bustling, noisy city with a large population. One could sense the industrious atmosphere just outside of the high walls, but in this area, it was calm and peaceful.
“This is lovely,” Gianna sighed, settling down in a chair with deep cushions as Selena pressed a button to light the gas fire.
“I agree. I lived in a tiny apartment for years until I met Reid. When he convinced me to take the job here, I rented his guest house over there on the other side of the pool.” She snorted. “I use the term ‘rent’ loosely because he never cashed my rent checks.”
The door to the house opened at that moment and all three men walked out. “Yeah, but you love the results of my determination, don’t you my dear?” he asked, setting his drink down on the side table before leaning over to lift his wife into his arms. He then sat down in the chair with her on his lap.
Brant sat next to Gianna on the love seat and Mack leaned back in the only other seat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“I thought you guys would be watching football,” Selena commented, wrapping her arms around Reid’s shoulders.
“Eh, the view out here was better,” Reid told her.
Mack and Brant laughed, shaking their heads as they took a long sip of their beers.
“The fire is nice,” Brant agreed. “Besides, our team is losing. No point in watching when they can’t even catch the ball.”
Selena grinned. “Gianna, they all played college football, so they are a bit particular about the way the new guys play. Being around them during a game is a bit like being around a bunch of over-opinionated critics.”
“Yeah, but we’re very kind in our critique of the freshman.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No you’re not.”
The conversation turned to a debate about the current college teams, their chances of winning the state championship, then on to Denver’s professional football team. That got worse as the men hotly debated the chances of the Denver Broncos making it to the playoffs. And that debate morphed to the national hockey league and pros and cons of all of the players.
Gianna listened avidly, trying to understand the jargon. But things like “tight end” and “defensive backs” were difficult since the context of their conversation didn’t translate into English words she knew well.
Dessert came next and, even though Gianna wasn’t hungry, she tasted the pumpkin pie and the apple pie, discovering that both were amazingly delicious!
“So, what do you think of your first experience with an American Thanksgiving?” Brant asked as he walked Gianna to the door after she insisted on leaving. The sports debates continued, but after all of the heavy food and the two glasses of wine, she wanted to curl up and fall asleep. At least that part of Thanksgiving description was accurate, she thought.
“I am surprised that pumpkin pie is so delicious!” she admitted, feeling as if they were in a cocoon of their own. While the others argued in the other room, she and Brant conversed quietly and she enjoyed the feeling of intimacy. “I read some of the recipes and they did not sound very tempting. But the reality is fantastic!” she replied, realizing that her accent was deepening as her nervousness increased.
“Yeah, pumpkin pie one of my favorites.”
Gianna stood there by the door, feeling awkward and not sure what to do.
“You shouldn’t kiss me,” she blurted.
He smiled slightly, but didn’t move back. “I know that I shouldn’t. But I think I might anyway.”
Gianna’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes dropped to his mouth. “The last time was too dangerous.”
He chuckled and moved closer. “I’ve never heard the word ‘dangerous’ used to describe a kiss before.”
For some reason, her hands lifted, resting on his chest. Had he moved closer? Gianna didn’t remember him being close enough for her to touch. Not this easily, at least.
“At the warehouse, the kiss…it became out of control.”
“Yeah. It kind of did.”
Then he was kissing her. And Gianna kissed him back. Her hands slid up arms, holding onto his shoulders as she pressed herself more tightly against him. The sparks she’d felt at the warehouse were nothing compared to the explosion she experienced now. She felt as if her body was on fire, her breasts aching for his touch. Even as she thought it, his hands moved lower, cupping her bottom as he twisted their bodies around so that he could lift her up, using the heavy wooden door as leverage.
There was a loud noise and Brant jerked back. Both of them stared at each other, breathing heavily but neither of them moved for a long moment.
“Yeah, that was dangerous,” he finally agreed.
The voices from the kitchen were the only reason he pulled back enough for her to stand on her own. Reaching down, she grabbed her purse and nodded. “Yes. We shouldn’t do that again.” She reached for the door, but paused long enough to look up at him, at his lips and his shoulders and…
“If you don’t l
eave now, then I’m going to leave with you, but we won’t be heading to your place.”
And still, she hesitated. But when he stepped forward, she jerked and nodded. “I’m going,” she announced, then slipped out the door, pulling it firmly closed behind her. She paused only long enough to close her eyes for a moment and tell herself that the man’s kisses were dangerous and not right for her. And she had a plan. A plan that made falling for a man a bad idea. A really bad idea!
She kept telling herself that the whole drive home, frustrated with herself for not believing it.
Chapter 8
Brant took the stairs two at a time, telling himself that this was a bad idea. What the hell was he doing? Gianna was beautiful and sexy but…he still didn’t trust her. What had she been hiding the other day under the stack of files? It had been a list of numbers and text, so had she run a report that she didn’t understand? If that was the case, why hadn’t she come to him for help?
Or was it something more sinister?
Perhaps he’d find out today, he thought as he took the stairs two at a time up to her apartment.
So if this was just an investigation into whatever the woman was hiding, why was he so eager to see her again?
The smile that greeted him as soon as she opened her door just about floored him. Was she always this ready with a smile for unexpected visitors? Whenever he walked into a room at the office, Gianna glared at him as if she wanted to hurt him.
“Good morning,” he greeted her, smiling and looking down at her with interest.
She pulled back and her smile disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Too bad, he thought. “Good morning, why you are doing here?” she demanded, leaning her shoulder against the door frame, her accent thick and he wanted to chuckle at her mixed up sentence structure. “We yesterday kissed and both of us comprehend that doing the kissing is a bad thing.”
It had been an incredible kiss! “Agreed. But we’re not going to do that again. “
She shifted slightly and he almost groaned when he realized she was wearing another soft sweater with jeans today.
“I agree with you there. So why you here now?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me inside?” he teased, bracing a hand on either side of her door.
“Probably not.”
He laughed and pressed his open palm against the door, pushing it wide. When she stepped back, he walked inside of her apartment and…stopped dead in his tracks.
Normally, these apartments had tan walls and matching curtains. The rental policy kept most renters from personalizing their living areas.
Not Gianna! The walls had been painted a warm, lemon yellow. The sofa was grey, but had bright green and pink pillows. There were brightly colored candles and knick knacks on most of the surfaces, but nothing looked jumbled. Just pleasantly vibrant.
He turned and saw her stuffing several pieces of paper under a book. He thought about asking about them, but from the rebellious look in her eyes, Brant figured that she wouldn’t tell him. Fine, he thought. He’d figure it out eventually.
Turning his back to the colorful apartment, he nodded his head, thinking that the room was just as vital and vibrant as the woman who lived here. “You did all of this yourself?” he asked, awed by her determination and creativity.
“Yes,” her chin lifted defiantly.
“It’s…great! I like it.”
He almost laughed when her eyes widened. “You thought I wouldn’t like it?” he teased, moving closer. “It’s just like you, Gianna. Colorful, vibrant, and lovely.”
He watched as she bit her lower lip thoughtfully at his words, completely distracted from the purpose for his visit. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to take it as an invitation.”
“Doing what?” she asked breathlessly. He felt it too, but he was trying to fight it. And even as he thought that, he looked over her head and found exactly what he was looking for. The notebook was spread out and all of those papers with the numbers and text that he’d seen on her desk were spread out.
Stepping around her, he walked over to the coffee table and looked down.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, rushing around him, trying to stop him from picking up the papers. “Those are private,” she snapped, bending over to gather them together.
Brant ignored her protests and lifted one of the pages. Confused, he read the words out loud, trying to understand what she was hiding from him. But…it wasn’t company data or corporate secrets. “A tight end isn’t…” he laughed, shaking his head as relief surged through him. “Is this what you’ve been hiding for the past several weeks, honey? You were trying to understand football?”
Gianna snapped the paper out of his hand. “Yes. Your American football is so confusing but everyone seems to watch it and talk about it.” He knew she was truly upset because her accent deepened to the point he had to concentrate on her words. “On Monday mornings, in the kitchen at work or before any meeting, everyone wants to discuss football and scores and quarterback misses or something. I cannot participate because I have no understanding. It is confusing and…well, the words don’t make sense.” She huffed, putting all of the papers on her kitchen table before turning back to face him.
Brant looked down at her, noticing again her soft sweater and the jeans. Damn, she looked good! Like a colorful butterfly!
“You want to understand football?” he asked softly.
“Si!” she huffed. “And I will. It is just taking me longer than I’d thought.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, change of plans. Come with me,” he ordered, but didn’t think she’d follow him so he took her hand and tugged her out the door.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, grabbing her purse and keys from the counter as she was dragged by. “And why would I want to go with you?”
He stopped and looked down at her. His plan this morning had been to talk to her and figure out what was going on between them. After yesterday’s kiss and the one at the warehouse, they needed to work out a plan. But looking down at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, assure her that there was nothing wrong with her, even though she didn’t understand football. But different words came out of his mouth. “You want to go with me because you like me. And you want to come with me because I’m going to teach you about football.”
She pulled back slightly. “Yes, well, why can’t you teach me here?”
He looked over her shoulder at the small television, shaking his head. “You don’t have the right tools.”
Gianna looked back at her television, a perfectly adequate television in her mind, not sure what he meant by the “right tools”. But this time when he tugged at her hand, she followed behind him, anxious and worried, but eager.
When they were both in his car, he backed out of the parking spot and shifted the vehicle into gear. “Okay, tell me what you already understand about football,” he ordered as he turned right out of her apartment’s parking lot.
“Oh, I understand a lot about football,” she teased, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “It is played with a round ball and I am one hundred percent sure that Roma will be in the finals this year,” she announced with a firm nod for emphasis.
Brant chuckled, keeping his eyes on the traffic as he shifted through the intersection towards his house. “You’re talking about soccer, love. I’m talking football. There is a difference.”
Another wave of her pretty hand in the air. Damn, he was really starting to love that gesture! It was so authentically “Gianna” and he thought it was adorable.
“Yes, you Americans call it the wrong sport. I don’t know why you think to call it soccer when everyone else in the world calls it football. You are a stubborn lot, all of you.”
He laughed and turned right, then left again. “I know that Europeans think that we’re stubborn or self-centered. I would argue that Americans are in
dependent.”
A toss of her head caused her dark curls to dance. “You can wrap up your words in pretty phrases but the result is the same. Besides, we are not here to argue about football. This is about American football. So please…tutor me in your knowledge.”
“There are consequences for sassiness,” he growled as he turned left again and headed towards a residential area. But instead of pulling into a driveway, he turned into a grocery store first.
“Why are we here?”
He shut off the engine and turned to her. “If you’re going to learn about American football,” he said, emphasizing the adjective, “then you’re going to learn it right. And that means, we need the right tools to enjoy the game.”
He stepped out of the vehicle and came around the car, but Gianna was already out of the car before he could open the door for her. “You keep referring to these tools. I didn’t think a hammer and saw were necessary to watch American football.”
He put a hand to the small of her back and led her towards the entrance to the grocery store. “I see you are still limiting your vision, my dear. Tools can be a variety of things, and should never be limited to something one would use in construction.” Going down the produce aisle, he tossed tomatoes, an onion, and several jalapenos into the cart. “Expand your understanding of tools and you will be a happier person.”
Gianna thought he was adorable, in a rough, manly sort of way. But what he had in mind with all of the ingredients, she simply couldn’t fathom. “You need chips to watch a football game?”
“Oh, yes!”
And then he steered the cart towards the beer and wine aisle. “And beer.”
She rolled her eyes. “Beer is not a tool,” she asserted firmly, then walked over to peruse the selection of red wine because she was not going to drink beer. Not a chance! Thankfully, the grocery store had a decent assortment of wines and she quickly chose one from Italy, preferring the rich flavors of her native country over the wines from places such as California or Virginia. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t given the wines from those regions much of a chance. In her mind though, loyalty was everything! So, she stuck to her beloved Italian wines.
The Tycoon's Secretive Temptress Page 7