The Dixon Brothers Trilogy: Hot Brits, Books 1-3

by Anna Durand

  "How's your hot boss?" Elena asks.

  "Ignoring me. Does he always stammer?"

  "Dane? No, he's well-spoken. You should've heard the pitch he gave Celeste when she was considering merging his company with Bonsoir. Chance and I listened to him rehearsing it, and Dane rocked his speech."

  Which is the exact opposite of what I've experienced with him. God, it must be me. He thinks I'm repulsive or stupid or something.

  "I'll take your word for that," I tell Elena. "Did you just call to chat? Because I am at work, you know."

  "Yeah, I know. I called to ask if you want to have lunch with me and Arden on Thursday. She's flying in from England with Reese the evening before, so we're going on a shopping spree."

  These ladies can out-shop anyone---including me, but that's not much of an accomplishment. I don't like shopping. Yeah, that makes me a freak of nature.

  "Sure," I say, "I'd love to see you guys."

  "Great. We girls really need to catch up." She hesitates, then asks, "Does Dane really stammer when he talks to you?"

  "Oh yes. He stammers, he blushes, he avoids looking at me... You get the picture."

  "Wow. He must like you a lot."

  I hold the phone away from my face to stare at it for half a second, then I return it to my ear. "Are you nuts? He acts like he can't stand being around me."

  Elena laughs. "Oh sweetie, that's not how Dane acts when he doesn't like someone. If he can't untie his tongue around you, then he definitely has a giant crush on you."

  A crush? Oh please. A giant crush? Double oh please.

  No one has ever had a crush on me, as far as I know, so I can't say for sure how men act when they feel that way. Men like me, sure, but there's been no crushing. And come on, Dane Dixon cannot like me that way.

  What, am I twelve years old again? A crush. That's just plain silly.

  I tell Elena that, and she laughs again.

  "Time will tell," she says in a knowing tone. "This is Monday. When I see you on Thursday, I predict you will have changed your opinion about Dane Dixon."

  "After more than two weeks with him, I rather doubt he's suddenly going to start acting smitten."

  "We'll see." She switches to a whisper when she adds, "I'll get Chance to talk to Dane."

  "About me? No way, Elena. Don't you dare do that."

  "To be honest, Chance will probably do that anyway. He likes to keep tabs on his brothers."

  "Does 'keeping tabs' mean meddling?"

  "Um...probably."

  I stifle a pathetic moan. "I have to get back to work. See you Thursday."

  "Looking forward to it."

  Elena and I hang up, and I go back to sorting through emails. Dane likes everything to be organized in subfolders so he can tell at a glance which messages are the most urgent. I'm in the middle of doing that when Celeste Arnaud walks out of the elevator into my little domain.

  She stops at my desk. "Good morning, Rika darling. You look lovely today. Has Dane told you that?"

  "No." I squirm a little, uncomfortable with her question after what Elena suggested concerning my boss. "It wouldn't be professional."

  "Nonsense. Complimenting someone is not unethical."

  I hike up my shoulders. "Mr. Dixon thinks a lot of things are unprofessional, unethical, un-whatever. Honestly, Ms. Arnaud, I don't think he likes me. Maybe you should get him a different PA."

  She waves a hand to dismiss my claim. "He's anxious, that's all. Not used to the corporate lifestyle yet. And please, call me Celeste. I've told you before I don't stand on formality."

  "Yes, I remember. Sorry, Celeste."

  "That's all right." She glances at the closed door to Dane's office, then smirks at me. "Should I wait for you to announce me, like we're at King Henry's court?"

  "No, but I will let him know you're here." I grab the phone off my desk and punch in the extension for Dane's office phone. When he picks up, I say, "Celeste Arnaud is here, Mr. Dixon."

  "Please send her in. Thank you, Miss Solberg."

  I hang up and motion toward the door. "He's ready for you."

  Celeste leans in to pat my hand. "Don't worry, dear, I'll take care of Dane."

  She strides into his office and shuts the door.

  Take care of him? What on earth does that mean?

  I have a feeling whatever she does will not put my boss in a good mood.

  Chapter Two

  Dane

  Celeste Arnaud walks into my office like she owns it. Technically, she does. The woman is the billionaire CEO of Bonsoir Beauty Inc., and I am sitting in an office in the corporate headquarters. The chair I'm sitting in belongs to her. All my devices, my factory in England, and all my employees now belong to her ever since I signed a contract with Bonsoir. My arse probably belongs to her too.

  Still, I like Celeste. It's hard not to like her. She may be in her seventies, but she loves to make racy jokes, and she loves to admire young men. Sometimes she licks her lips when she's looking at me, which makes me feel like a side of beef sizzling on a grill. Celeste is also the grandmother of my newest sister-in-law, Arden. That makes her family, in a way.

  Celeste takes a seat on one of the chairs opposite my desk. She crosses her legs and leans back. "Dane darling, how are you? Looking scrumptious as ever, I see."

  She calls everyone "darling." I've gotten used to it. I've also gotten used to being called "scrumptious" and "delicious" and "one hot beefcake."

  "You're looking well too," I say.

  Her blonde hair has grown a bit longer than when we'd first met, but it looks good on her. Despite her age, she stays trim and has no wrinkles---but Arden has informed everyone, in front of Celeste, that her grandmother keeps the best plastic surgeon in the world on retainer, in case she needs any touch-ups. Celeste doesn't care if her granddaughter says things like that. They are a strange family.

  "Thank you," Celeste says. "Now, tell me why you're treating Rika so horribly that she thinks you hate her. Are you lusting after her? Is that the problem? I wouldn't blame you. She is beautiful and intelligent, so I'm sure you'd love to spend the night with Rika. Why don't you just do it?"

  "What?" I stammer for a moment before I can give her a response that sounds anything like words. "Miss Solberg works for me. I can't do anything of the sort. Not that I want to."

  "Aren't we friends, Dane?"

  "Yes." What that has to do with anything, I have no idea.

  "Then don't act so shocked when I bring up a sensitive subject. You know that's the way I am."

  Oh yes, I know that. But she's never suggested anything like what she said a minute ago. It's insane. I cannot fuck Rika, even if I want to. Which I don't. I have no time for sex, much less romance, and Rika Solberg seems like the sort who needs more from a man.

  Yes, I know that after speaking a grand total of thirty words to her.

  "I don't have room in my life for a relationship," I say. "The re-launch is taking up all of my time."

  "That's horse shit, and you know it." She slides forward in her chair until only her bottom rests on it. "Dane darling, your celibacy will ruin our re-launch. You need a girlfriend. If you want to date Rika, all you need to do is ask her and then report the relationship to HR if you decide to pursue one. Though it might be best if I reassigned her to someone else, to avoid any perception of an ethical dilemma."

  I grab my coffee cup and down the last of its contents in one gulp. I drink too fast, which makes me cough. "What the bloody hell does my love life have to do with anything?"

  "You sell sex," Celeste tells me in a tone that suggests I'm profoundly dense.

  "No, I design sexual wellness devices."

  She laughs softly, smiling at me with affection. "Women use your devices to give themselves orgasms. Do you think they want to know the man who designs the vibrators they use is holed up inside a tool shed in the woods, alone, like the Unabomber?" She tsks. "No, dear, they want to see a vibran
t, sexy hunk of a man who has a bombshell on his arm."

  "What are you talking about? No one is going to see me."

  "Oh yes they are." She points a finger at me. "You are the face of the company. That's why we're re-branding it as Dane's Delights." She waves a hand like she's shooing away a fly. "The name you had for it was too boring."

  "What's wrong with Bedroom Buddies?"

  She snorts, clearly trying not to laugh at me. "It sounds like you're selling alarm clocks. Like it or not, Dane, we---you are selling sex. That means you need to embody the concept. A recluse who works twenty-four hours a day and lives on frozen dinners is not sexy."

  I start to complain but shut my mouth before one syllable emerges. Maybe she's right. Maybe I do have a responsibility to seem less...reclusive. Celeste had told me from the beginning our partnership would require I make some changes, in my company and myself. I assumed she meant I would need to attend board meetings, not that she would instruct me to find a girlfriend.

  But I signed the contract. I knew what I was getting into. Mostly.

  "Fine," I say. "You pick someone, and I'll go out with her."

  "I don't run a dating service." She tilts her head to the left. "Though maybe that should be the next addition to the Bonsoir ensemble. Well, at any rate, I cannot find you a girl. You need to do that yourself."

  "How am I meant to meet a woman? You've got me scheduled for so many meetings I barely have time to drink my coffee."

  "I know, darling, but you're a smart, capable man. You'll figure something out. And do it fast."

  "How fast?"

  "This week would be best. Honestly, it shouldn't be that hard for a gorgeous, charming man like you to meet a woman. She doesn't need to be the love of your life." Celeste stands up. "I have another meeting to get to."

  "What?" I stand up too. "Was this meeting strictly a chance for you to order me to get a girlfriend?"

  "Yes." She leans across the desk to pat my cheek. "See? I knew you were a smart boy. Oh, by the way, how are those two new devices coming along?"

  "Very well." It's bollocks, but I can't tell her the truth. I haven't come up with a single good idea for a new device since the day Bonsoir swallowed up my company, and I've had no ideas at all since the day Celeste commanded me to design something new.

  Celeste pats my cheek and leaves.

  And I drop onto my chair again. Find a girlfriend? How the fuck am I meant to do that? I'm living in a strange city, for two months, and I don't know anyone here. My brother Chance lives in New Hampshire. My brother Reese alternates between New York and England, but he's over there until later this week. Besides, I can't ask my brothers for recommendations.

  Chance, could you ask around for me? I need a woman, immediately. Doesn't matter if she likes me, just that she's pretty and willing to hang on my arm like a bloody ornament.

  No, I'm not saying that.

  Reese, you used to shag every woman in the UK. Could you loan me one of your ex-lovers?

  That's even worse.

  I have a week to find a girlfriend. Though I'm not as popular with women as my brothers used to be, I'm not completely incompetent. Even Celeste called me charming. Yet lately, I feel like I have no idea how to speak to a woman, much less convince one to date me. Working too much has left me...out of practice. It doesn't help that the last woman I took out on a date had wanted to go home with me only because she hoped I'd use my devices on her. She wasn't the first to want that, but she also seemed disappointed that I'm not "kinky."

  In my mind, I hear the last words she said to me. Why can't you be as exciting as your toys?

  A knock at the door alerts me to the fact Rika is about to enter my office. She's very polite, always knocking before entering and saying "please" and "thank you." Her politeness makes me want to bend her over my desk and do things an employer should not do.

  I sit up taller, straighten my tie, and clear my throat. "Come in, Miss Solberg."

  Rika sashays into my office.

  Christ, she's beautiful. Long, chestnut hair that glistens in the sunlight coming through the windows. A perfect mouth, made scarlet red by the lipstick she wears. Those breasts, that arse, the way her hips sway when she walks. And the high heels she has on...

  She walks up to my desk and offers me a folder. "Celeste wanted me to give you the latest projections for sales in the first month after the re-launch of Dane's Delights."

  My name will be on every package that's sold. My name. Fuck, it's embarrassing. Do I really want women thinking of me and the word delight while they're using my devices?

  I'd love to hear Rika Solberg whisper my name and the word delight in my ear. I'd love to watch her availing herself of my devices too. An image of that explodes in my mind, and blood rushes to my loins.

  Rika always has that effect on me. She is the sexiest woman I've ever seen. For some reason, I can do nothing but stammer and splutter in her presence. I can't make myself look her in the eye either. She has the most beautiful eyes, pale brown with flecks of brilliant green. As soon as I think about her eyes, I can't stop myself from gazing into them.

  I really should know better by now. Meeting her gaze makes my cock ache and my mouth spew nonsense.

  "M-Miss Solberg," I say, sounding like a ruddy moron, "please---I mean, thank you. It---yes, I needed this."

  I snatch the folder from her and pretend to be obsessed with its contents, though I have no idea what the papers inside it say. I expect her to leave.

  She doesn't. Instead, she says, "Can I get you more coffee?"

  "No. No, I---" Shut up, you idiot. But my mouth has other ideas. "I'm fine, thank you."

  At least I managed a complete, if brief, sentence that made sense.

  She still doesn't leave.

  The woman smells like...I don't know. Something delicious. It reminds me of the sweets my mother used to make for us, but it smells even better wafting off Rika Solberg's body. Why does she smell that way? I've never heard of perfume scented like baked goods and candies. Is Rika trying to drive me insane? Maybe I should order her to wear loose-fitting clothes and some of those horrible sensible shoes. And I should tell her to stop brushing her hair. No more makeup either. Definitely no lipstick. And stop smelling so good too, please.

  "Celeste told me to stay until you've gone over those numbers," Rika tells me. "Then I'm supposed to get you to sign off on it and send all of it back to her."

  "Oh." I flip through the pages, not seeing a single number or letter that's printed on them, then I sign the last page and hand the folder back to Rika. "Here it is."

  Her lips pucker just a little, and her brows tighten. "You looked at the numbers so fast. Are you sure you don't want to take more time?"

  Not with her in the room. Watching me. Smelling so fucking good.

  I wave her away, though she doesn't move. "It's fine. Thank you."

  "Okay, if you're sure." She bites her lip, which makes me want to sink my teeth into every part of her body. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

  Those innocent words trigger something in me, like the switch that keeps me from saying insane things has been flipped, and my mouth wants me to sound like a lunatic. Celeste's command that I find a girlfriend replays in my mind.

  And I have the worst idea. But it sounds like the best idea, like my only option, like the sort of thing I shouldn't do but want to do, badly---for reasons I can't explain. Rika is beautiful. And sexy. And clever. She would make the perfect ornament for my arm, when I'm forced to attend public events related to the re-launch. But I can't. She works for me.

  I could fire her.

  Yes, then she'll be thrilled to become my trophy girlfriend. What a bloody moron you are. If I phrase it differently, as if it's a business arrangement, then maybe it won't sound like such an insane idea.

  "Are you okay?" Rika asks.

  For once, my brain and my cock are in complete agreement. I meet her gaze. "Actually
, there is one more thing you could do for me."

  "What is it?"

  The words "be my trophy girlfriend" get lodged in my throat. I open my mouth, but the only sound that comes out of it is a faint croaking noise.

  Rika leans over my desk, peering into my eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? Should I call a doctor?"

  "I'm all right. No need for a doctor."

  "Okay." She keeps leaning over the desk, which makes her blouse fall away from her chest, giving me the barest glimpse of her cleavage. "What did you want to ask me?"

  "Uh..." I tug at the collar of my shirt. "Would you have lunch with me? I need to discuss some business matters with you."

  "Lunch?"

  Why does she look so shocked? It's not that barmy for an employer to take his employee out for a working lunch. Maybe sharing a meal with her will calm this lust and help me decide whether Rika might be amenable to the trophy girlfriend idea.

  Yes, that sounds like a reasonable plan.

  "A business lunch," I say. "Nothing untoward about it. I'd like us to get to know each other a bit, strictly to improve our working relationship."

  She straightens. "Okay, sure."

  I stand up. "You should choose the restaurant. I don't know the area."

  "Um, it's nine thirty," she says. "I guess you're still on UK time?"

  "Oh. Yes, I suppose I am." No, I'm not, but at least that gives me an excuse for not realizing it's still morning. "You settle on a restaurant, and we'll take our lunch at one o'clock. All right?"

  "Sounds good."

  Rika sashays out of my office.

  I admire her arse until she shuts the door behind her.

  Christ, I'm in trouble.

  Chapter Three

  Rika

  At precisely one o'clock, Dane walks out of his office and waves for me to follow him. We ride the elevator in silence, ride in a cab in silence, and enter the restaurant in silence. He settles a hand on my lower back as we walk inside and while the maître d' leads us to a table at the back of the restaurant. The curved booth is smokily lit and secluded.

  Dane had asked the maître d' for a "private" table.