Surrender to Chance [King's Bluff, Wyoming 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  Shaking his head, he headed out of his office and down the expansive hallway, with its rich timbers and mountain lodge touches of western décor. He walked through the back office admin area, a place usually busy with activity and chatter around the three desks, but at this moment empty except for the younger admin officer. He noted how the woman’s eyes widened before she ducked her head, her hands busy on the keyboard.

  That brought him up short. He had the right to be pissed but scaring the staff, especially the females, wasn’t the action of a good boss, and even less of a Dom.

  He paused beside her desk. “Lacey.” Her fingers stopped their frantic dancing over the keys. She peeped up at him, looking like a timid rabbit about to face a hungry lion. Well, hell. He gave a wry smile. “I’m going to take myself off to the gym and sweat away my scowl. I’ll be back in about an hour. Quinn Sullivan is meeting me for lunch, so tell him to go through to the restaurant if he shows up here, okay?”

  The twenty-something brunette, with her hair up in a ponytail, visibly relaxed. “Sure thing, Mr. MacKenzie. Your phones are still switched through to mine, so it’s all covered.”

  “Great.” He walked to the main reception area, nodding to a few staff members as they passed him on the way. After stopping to have a conversation with one of the lodge’s guests, who was sitting with a book in a sun-drenched corner of the lobby area, he continued on.

  Should he go straight to the gym located at the back of the building and use the stuff in his locker? No, he’d grab a change of clothes from his suite of rooms. He climbed the main stairway two steps at a time, ignoring the elevator. The short cardio jab was a welcome relief after a few hours sitting behind a desk.

  Down a couple more corridors and he arrived at his suite. In a month, their private residence would be ready, with only the finishing touches currently being added. Until then, they’d rough it at the lodge, if you considered five-star accommodations with your every whim catered for roughing it.

  With a swipe of his keycard, he entered his suite. Time enough to get his gym bag and—

  He froze. A noise, the sound of clothing or material being moved, came from his bedroom. The hairs on his neck stood as he slowly, noiselessly opened a cupboard that housed one of his firearms. Years on the teams taught him to always have ready access to a means of defending himself.

  Walking through the spacious living room, he aimed his Glock at the ceiling and sized up the partially opened bedroom door. He kicked the polished wood and entered, his weapon gripped in both hands.

  The blonde lying naked atop his bed didn’t even yelp, much less scream. Instead, a look of smug satisfaction governed Tasha Lindstrom’s features. “Miss me, darling?”

  “Fuck.” Alex lowered his weapon, despite the urge to shoot the ceiling in sheer frustration. “How the hell did you get in here?” His voice came out rough as anger swamped his body. He breathed deep, slowing down his system as he moved close to the bed.

  Her pout was Oscar worthy. “I thought you’d be happy. After all, I trekked to this godforsaken wilderness just to see you. I guessed you were busy and in need of some R&R since you hadn’t answered my calls.”

  Most women would have taken the hint after months of no contact. Come to think of it, the last he’d heard, she’d got her claws into some token prince of a tiny European country whose main claim to fame was an abundance of good alpine skiing.

  “What happened to His Majesty?” He stepped away from her outstretched hands. “His crown jewels not to your liking?”

  “No need to be testy. I simply realized I’m an all-American girl. I need the home front to be happy.”

  Now that was insulting to his intelligence.

  He locked his gun in the drawer of his bedside table, then grabbed her arm, hauling her naked form off the sheets.

  Tasha gasped, finally seeming to realize the level of her fuckup. Her mouth moved, scrambling for some kind of balm to soothe the beast. She was out of luck.

  Alex ignored the way she twisted to break his hold. “How the fuck did you get in my room?”

  “I told the guy at reception I was your sub and you’d asked for me to be ready.” She lowered her eyes, taking a meek stance that was as fake as the boob job she’d had since the last time he’d seen her. “Honestly, I only wanted to make this a special homecoming for both of us.”

  “No, you manipulated a young man to get your own way.” The kid should lose his job, but Alex knew what Tasha was capable of. Oh, he’d kick Kevin’s ass and then hand him over to Quinn for a further lecture. Maybe a few weeks working menial tasks would remind the guy to think with his head and not his dick.

  “Get your shoes on.” When she stared at him numbly, he spoke louder. “Now.”

  She rushed to slide her feet in a pair of shoes with ridiculously high heels. Even so, her head only came level with his mouth. “Look, maybe we can go for a meal and forget this silliness. It seems a shame to—”

  “You invaded my privacy.” Alex cut her off, his tone glacial. “I’ve told you, repeatedly, that I don’t want contact with you. It’s a shame you refuse to listen.” Strengthening his grip around her upper arm, he tugged her forward. “Where’s your luggage?”

  “In my car, but why’s that important?”

  With his other hand, he scooped up her dress and handbag before pushing them against her chest. She had no choice but to clutch them to her in her free hand.

  Without a word, he half dragged her through the suite, dodging the low coffee table covered with papers on a current project, and only stopping at a large cupboard at the entrance to the bathroom. He reached in, grabbed a white terry-cloth robe, and held it out to her. “Your choice. Put this on or go naked.”

  She eyed the robe warily. “Where are we going?”

  Alex waited.

  Tasha took the robe. He released her arm long enough for her to cover herself and tighten the belt before he again caught hold. Not giving her a chance to question him further, he led her out of the room, then to the elevator located down the hallway.

  Once the doors had closed and they began their descent, she spoke. “Are you taking me to your dungeon? I heard you’d had one built.”

  “No, I’m taking you to your car.” He ignored her curse. “You’re leaving, Tasha. If you don’t want to create a scene and be fodder for gossip between here and Seattle, you’ll keep quiet and walk where I say.”

  With perfect timing, the doors opened. He tugged her forward, harder this time as her feet apparently had lost the ability to move with any speed.

  They continued through the lobby area, gaining curious stares from the couple of people occupying seats, then past the reception desk and the now white-faced Kevin, who gulped loud enough for Alex to hear. He ignored the younger man as he pulled Tasha through the large wooden doorway that separated the main area from the foyer beyond.

  The curious didn’t get to see beyond the front foyer’s wall. Privacy was a luxury his guests—and he—valued.

  Once outside the lodge’s external double entry doors, he dragged in a large breath, happy to be free of her perfume.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “You’re throwing me out in nothing but a fucking bathrobe?” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder. She paused for a second before her face lost its hardness. “How can you do this? I came all this way to see you, to fight for a chance for us again.”

  A soft gasp came from his right. He turned, his gaze landing on a redhead. He had a chance to see her soft lips before they hardened into a tight line. Green eyes brightened in outrage as they took in his hard grip on Tasha’s arm and her holding her belongings to her chest.

  Christ, just what he needed.

  The woman glared at him before leaning to her right to see Tasha. “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Lady, mind your own business.” He pulled on Tasha’s arm, leading her across the terrace’s large stone pavers until they reached the steps down to the parking lot.

  The cli
cking of heels on the pavers followed them. He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Just a minute. I asked her a question. Give her the chance to answer.” Red raised her chin. For a second he let his gaze travel over her, noting the way her outfit showed off the curves of her figure. She was a stunner. His blood heated in appreciation. Wasn’t that how he got into this mess with Tasha in the first place? One of the rare times he’d not listened to his instincts and simply took a woman home. Lesson learned. He’d keep himself to the subs provided by his private club. If he needed something to cuddle in bed, he’d grab a fucking pillow.

  “I’m fine.” Tasha tried to pull her arm out of Alex’s grasp but he held on. “It’s just a lover’s tiff.” Dismissing the other woman without another word, she turned her gaze back to Alex. “I’m leaving. You’re obviously in too bad a mood to appreciate my presence. Maybe once you’ve calmed down we can discuss things further.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss, Tasha.” He let go of her slowly, half expecting her to run back inside. Only when she stormed down the steps and then over to a black SUV did he finally let out a breath.

  He turned, nearly colliding with the redhead. Putting his hands out to steady her, he noted the softness of her shoulders underneath the silky fabric. A lush woman and one who, right now, possessed enough spark to set a rocket alight.

  She stepped out of his hold as she darted a glance toward the entrance. He felt his gaze narrow. She wasn’t a guest. He knew everyone who was staying here, so who the hell was she? He wasn’t in the mood to play guessing games with a potential imposter.

  “Lady, this is a private guest lodge and I’ve had enough trespassers for one day. State your business or leave.”

  The mouth of hers opened again, hung there, tempting him to taste her as she formed a response.

  “I have an appointment with Alex MacKenzie.” She squared her shoulders, as if her answer would put him in his place.

  Suspicion turned to anger. Cute as she was, he’d had enough. “Nice try, sweetheart, but you picked the wrong guy. I’ve had my fill of women trying to get their claws into me for one day.” He stalked inside the lodge, refusing to look back at the curvy temptation.

  * * * *

  What nerve!

  Olivia gaped at the arrogant jerk as he disappeared inside the lodge. Insults begged to be shouted to his back, but her mom raised her to be a lady. Instead, she growled out her fury between clenched teeth.

  “Hello.” A deep voice came from behind. “Can I help you?”

  Righteous anger had her blurting out, “Yeah, you can kick the ass of the jerk that just walked inside.”

  At the man’s loud burst of laughter, she spun around.

  Her mouth dropped. The ground beneath her feet wobbled like a rickety old table.

  It couldn’t be. It just freaking could not be.

  There, in all his denim-clad, messy haired glory stood Captain Cutie.

  The man who she’d rubbed up against and demanded that he kiss her.

  She stood there, her limbs paralyzed with mortification as he moved the last few steps to stand in front of her.

  “Well then.” A slow smile highlighted the dimple in his left cheek, turning his handsome face from rugged to devilish. “If it isn’t my mystery kisser.”

  Heat flooded her face. “You,” she managed to choke out.

  Gray. That was the color of his eyes. They were the exact same shade as the jerk’s earlier, except these were missing the other man’s arctic blast.

  Far from it. They gleamed with unabashed amusement.

  “I arrived too late to stop Alex from making an ass of himself. He obviously didn’t get my phone message.” He sobered slightly, though his eyes still held the satisfaction of a man with the upper hand. “Let me apologize. My name’s Kane MacKenzie and that was my brother, Alex. I overheard you say you had an appointment with him. You must be Olivia Fletcher.” He held a large hand out toward her. “I made the appointment for Alex and me with Chloe but got delayed on-site.”

  Her mind blanked out most of what he said after the first sentence. Super jerk was Alex MacKenzie? Her—she’d hoped—future client? It figured. Her crappy luck had tracked her down with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile.

  She put her hand in Kane’s. A shiver raced up her spine as his much larger one firmed around hers. She remembered his touch, the reassuring firmness as he’d held her body while she had—she cringed—rubbed up against him.

  Maybe not the best time to dwell on that part.

  “Yes, I’m Olivia.” She withdrew her hand, determined to salvage something from the meeting. “Mr. MacKenzie, I…” Hell, where did she start? “About Saturday night, I’m sorry—”

  “Stop.” His commanding tone forced her silent. Her stomach cramped. Was he going to tell her to get her ass in her truck and off their property?

  Kane spoke in an even tone. “Saturday night you had no way of knowing that you’d be standing here the next Tuesday morning. Therefore, the only thing you could be apologizing for is kissing me. That would be unwise, since I enjoyed myself and I’m damn sure you did, too. What happened then has nothing to do with why you’ve come to meet with us now.”

  His whole demeanor—shoulders back, direct stare, deep voice—was one of quiet authority. This man didn’t take a backward step for anyone.

  And he was staring right at her, appraising her, not in a sexual way, but in one that let her know every move and word she said was being evaluated against his expectations.

  She was “on.” And she knew with the kind of certainty that defied argument Kane MacKenzie wasn’t a man that allowed for a second take.

  * * * *

  Kane placed his hand under Olivia Fletcher’s elbow, stifling a chuckle as she started from his touch. Nervous little thing.

  “As two professionals, we can separate our first encounter and start our meeting.” He kept his tone businesslike, refusing to give her the chance to back out and scurry to her car. She’d already run the gauntlet with Alex. Besides, he wanted to keep talking to her, see what lurked under that ruffled exterior.

  He opened the lodge’s door, with its ornamental cast-iron hinges. As she moved past him, a hint of her perfume, something light and feminine, teased him. It fit her perfectly.

  She had the body of a fifties bombshell, all curves with a hint of swagger in her hips as she moved. Not that he needed any convincing of her allure. He’d had his hands on that body. Yet he’d bet his collection of fifty-year-old scotch she wasn’t clued in on the effect that could have on a man. It was the way she stood waiting. There was no affected pose, no chin in the air or hand on her hip, showing off those curves. Instead, she held her bag by her side and looked around at the intimate-sized foyer.

  Not that she’d see much. Apart from an intercom allowing visitors to connect through to the main area, there was nothing more than a leather sofa, coffee table, and two doorways leading to different parts of the lodge, both of which required keycard access or validation via the intercom. A massive wall, made from the timbers of long-ago felled trees found at the bottom of a local lake, formed a barrier between the foyer and the main lobby beyond.

  He gestured toward the doorway which led to the offices. “This way, Miss Fletcher.” Using a more formal title drew an effective curtain between what had happened in the pub and the interview. If he was honest, it also reminded him of her purpose here. The siren tempted him. He needed to keep it professional.

  Her polished shoes with their two-inch heels did little to add height. The top of her head reached below his shoulders. He loved women of all sizes and shapes. Short, tall, thin, or made with extra love—they were all meant to be adored. But there was something about Olivia Fletcher, a mixture of elegance and innocence, that intrigued him.

  Deciding not to take the shortcut through the admin area, he guided her instead down the main hallway before stopping at the first door. He cast a quick glance farther down to Alex’s office at the end, but t
he door was shut. Probably for the best. He’d handle her interview on his own.

  He closed his door behind them. “Take a seat.” Lowering himself into his leather chair, he studied Olivia as she sat all prim and proper. “Can I get you coffee, tea, or maybe some water?”

  She shook her head before giving a polite smile. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  He nodded. “Okay, Miss Fletcher, from what Chloe told me on the phone, you’ve moved here recently from New York?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I decided to come home after my divorce.” She didn’t elaborate further, but the faint tightening of her face hinted at more.

  “Our marketing department’s based at our headquarters in Seattle. Their particular expertise isn’t what we require for this situation. We prefer to hire local whenever possible. Alex and I want a PR approach that offers a real link with the people of King’s Bluff. We’ve chosen to hire someone on a consultancy basis with a retainer. That way we’re not tied in if things don’t work out.” He and Alex were direct-speaking kind of men. “I’m guessing you have a resume with all the usual information.”

  “Yes, I do.” She opened up her bag and withdrew a thin plastic folder, which she handed across to him. “I can also e-mail you a copy.”

  “Thank you. I’ll look at that later. This is your chance to impress me. Tell me why you should get the contract.”

  She moved back deeper into her seat, obviously comfortable with the subject. “I’ve been working as an executive assistant for seven years for the CEO of Remington, Sharp, and Knight, an international insurance firm based in New York. My boss required me to use my initiative in covering tasks that needed a delicate touch, yet still get results. That included handling a range of PR matters that he couldn’t staff outside his office. I’m used to working unsupervised on several projects at once, including those based internationally. I respect the need for confidentiality and tact, especially as many will regard me as the public face of my client.”