by Cali MacKay
Seduction and Surrender
The Billionaire’s Temptation Series
By Cali MacKay
Seduction and Surrender
The Billionaire’s Temptation Series
By Cali MacKay
Published by Cali MacKay at Smashwords
Copyright © 2014 by Cali MacKay
Published by Daeron Publishing
Http://calimackay.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher or author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The story contained within is the work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This story contains explicit sexual scenes and adult language and is only for readers over the age of 18.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2014, Smashwords edition 1.0
ISBN: 978-1-940041-20-9
Table of Contents
Start of Seduction and Surrender by Cali MacKay
Start of Sample for One Sweet Summer by Cali MacKay
For Joe, Maeve and Amelia.
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Seduction and Surrender
Chapter One
The knife was a blur in Emma’s hand as she chopped the onions for the night’s service, her prep cook having left her in the lurch again. She tried to be understanding of true emergencies, but getting too drunk the night before wasn’t a valid excuse for missing work the following morning—yet again. And of all the days to be short-staffed.
“You need to get going, Em. Leave it. I’ll finish that up.” Jake shouldered her out of the way and took over the prep she was working on. “And make sure you take a shower before going to that meeting. Ryker will never agree to extend the lease if you smell like onions and a butcher’s.”
She wiped her hands on a rag, her mind racing and her stomach in knots as her nerves got the best of her. Formal meetings of any sort always put her on edge, especially when there was so much at stake. “I swear, I could kiss you. Thanks. I owe you, big time.”
He shook his head with a sigh and a teasing smile, his brown eyes lighting up. “Promises, promises.”
With a wave, Emma grabbed her bag and rushed out the door, quickly checking the time on her phone as she fumbled with her keys. If she hurried, she’d just make it. And there was no way she could be late. The fate of her restaurant depended on this meeting being a success. If she couldn’t get her lease renewed, she’d lose everything—and it wasn’t just her life’s savings and her restaurant that were on the line.
Letting herself into her studio apartment, she quickly stripped and turned on the hot water. Her shower spit to life, the pipes clanging and stuttering before releasing a weak spray of warm water. She cursed her landlord and the hot water heater that seldom delivered actual hot water, and stepped in for a quick shower. At least the temperature guaranteed she wouldn’t linger.
Between the towel and blow-drier, she managed to half-dry her hair before pulling it back into one of her no-nonsense ponytails, and since she didn’t have much in the way of fancy clothes, a pair of skinny cream pants and a silky pink tunic would just have to do. She looked at her shoes and cringed. No way could she wear her go-to work clogs, but there was a good chance she’d kill herself in heels. She groaned, knowing she had little choice and already regretting her decision as she squeezed her feet into the silver pumps she’d bought when she was a bridesmaid for her cousin’s wedding.
She slicked some gloss across her full lips, and jogged out the door, nearly killing herself in the process, and already running five minutes late. Of course, traffic was miserable with tourists filling the town to go foliage peeping, only adding to how late she was. There just better be parking when she finally got there.
There wasn’t.
By the time she found a place to park, she was three blocks away from where she needed to be. Kicking off her heels, she hightailed it barefoot to the fancy high-rise that housed the offices of Ryker Investments, and one Quinn Ryker. Thankfully, the residents of Portmore kept their city fairly clean, or she’d have had to add stitches and a tetanus shot to her list of things to do that day.
With her pulse thrumming, she rushed through the glass doors and across the marble floor, thinking it was a damn good thing she was still barefoot. Those floors would have been her demise if she’d been wearing her heels. Twelfth floor, but no suite was listed. She just hoped it’d be obvious once she got up there. She spotted the elevator about to go up.
“Hold the elevator, please!” Emma practically dove in between the closing doors—and right into a wall of hard muscles and the arms of a total stranger.
With her heart now racing for a completely different reason, her gaze wandered across a broad chest, all the way up to sexy stubble on a strong jawline, and dark mussed-up hair that made the stranger’s eyes stand out in contrast—mesmerizing, intelligent eyes the color of spring grass. The man was heart-stoppingly gorgeous in a rugged animalistic way, and so damn tall, that his presence left her feeling tiny and delicate, even if she’d never before thought of herself in those terms.
She managed to suck a breath into her lungs while still in the stranger’s arms, gripping his massive biceps through his worn leather biker jacket, butter soft with age and wear. Yet the way he was built, and the ease with which he carried his large frame, made her think that his muscles were the kind earned through hard work rather than the gym—and damn, but she’d love nothing more than to see those muscles in action.
He looked down at her with one eyebrow lifted in question as she all but blushed, though she made no move to extricate herself from his muscular arms, her brain and body clearly having fried themselves due to his close proximity. And it sure as hell didn’t help that he smelled like leather, fresh ocean air, and pure man.
“Sorry.” What the hell was her problem? “So incredibly sorry.”
Juggling her, in addition to his motorcycle helmet, the man easily shifted her back onto her feet as if he were used to having to free himself from crazy women. His lips twitched into a hint of a smile that nearly made her heart stutter and sent a blush flaming across her cheeks. “No worries, sweetheart. You won’t ever hear me complain about having a pretty woman fling herself into my arms.”
Emma suspected it was likely a common occurrence, given that the man was smoking hot, in a way that few men were. He had a presence that demanded attention, like a feral creature so rare and dangerous, one couldn’t help but look in awe. And the fact that he easily stood over six foot three only added to it.
Snap out of it, Emma! The man was probably thinking she was off her rocker.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, her thoughts slowly returning to normal as if her brain was finally starting to function now that there was a bit of distance between them. Remembering why she was there, she pressed the button for the twelfth floor.
Shoes! She stepped into one of them, and then attempted to get the second one on while balancing on the spindly heel of the first.
Just as she was about to go down again, her handsome stranger reached out and steadied her with a hand on her waist, his fingers pressing firmly into her flesh. His touch, the command in his hold, sent a jol
t of electricity through to her core and reminded her that it had been far too long since she’d last been with a man. And this man? She had no doubt he was capable of mind-blowing, knee-weakening, When-Harry-Met-Sally types of orgasms.
His eyes locked on hers for a moment before wandering to her lips, and then over her entire body, his smile kicking up as his gaze lingered over her curves. “Are you going to be all right, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart… The way he said that word made her heart skitter.
Still wobbly, she finally managed to get the second shoe on, though she didn’t attempt to pull out of his arms, since the last thing she wanted was to sprawl at the feet of this man-god. “Sorry. Again.”
“You’re not going to go down in a heap if I let you go, are you?” His brow kicked up questioningly, sending her heart racing.
“It’s these heels. They’re not my norm, but I’ve got an important meeting, and…” Emma let her excuses fade. Damn, but the man smelled good. It took all the will she had not to suck in a deep breath or start licking him from head to toe. Before she did something even more embarrassing, she somehow found the strength to pull out of his arms, though the absence of his touch felt like a pang deep inside her chest. “Thanks. I should be fine.”
The elevator chimed and came to a stop, the doors sliding open. “This is me. Stay vertical.” He was off with a wave, leaving her to finally breathe easy once more, though her heart had yet to slow its fevered racing.
She was still feeling rattled and off-kilter when the elevator reached the twelfth floor. The doors slid open and she quickly realized why there wasn’t a suite number. It turned out that Ryker Investments occupied the whole floor. She told herself not to get angry or annoyed with the fact that this company, that already had so much, was trying to wipe her dream off the face of the earth.
Trying not to wobble, she made her way to the front desk, ignoring the look she got from the receptionist as she gave her name. Nancy, according to the name tag on the desk, tapped on her keyboard and then gave Emma a smile. “He’ll be with you momentarily.”
Emma took a seat on the plush, but all too modern, sofa and waited. And waited. She should be at her restaurant getting ready for the night’s service, instead of sitting there waiting to be graced with Ryker’s presence. And to top it all off, she’d nearly killed herself trying not to be late.
A handsome man in a well-fitting tailored suit showed up. Finally. Was this Ryker? Or just another one of his henchmen? She cursed herself for not taking a minute to look up the guy on the Internet. Time was just so damned tight. “Ms. Sparrow? If you could follow me?”
He showed her down a hall, opening the door to a large corner office, and then closing it behind her, leaving her stunned by the wall of glass and the amazing view. High up as they were, she could see all of Portmore and the ocean just beyond. A million-dollar view if ever there was one.
She took a wobbly step towards the chairs, her nerves completely on edge—until she saw the man behind the desk. Crap.
“Sweetheart—or should I say Ms. Sparrow?—I’m glad to see you’ve managed not only to remain upright, but more surprisingly, are uninjured. Have a seat.” Quinn Ryker…the man from the elevator…except that he’d tossed away the façade of the sexy biker. Though the stubble and just-fucked hair were still in play, he was now in a meticulously tailored business suit that probably cost him more than her month’s rent—and he still looked damn good, curse him. “What can I help you with today?”
Emma plopped herself unceremoniously in a chair, trying not to curse and feeling like a complete fool after the elevator incident. He’d probably had a good laugh, knowing exactly who she was the entire time. And damn, but he’d left her rattled. She’d gone over what she’d wanted to say to him a million times, rehearsed it in her head, knowing that there was way too much riding on this. And now? She couldn’t think of anything but cursing the bastard to hell.
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the letter his company had sent her and thrust it at him. “You know full well why I’m here.”
Ugh…so much for trying to win him over to her side with niceties and logical arguments.
“You own the Old Port Bistro.” Quinn stood and walked around his massive mahogany desk, leaning against it and casually stretching out his long legs in front of him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He loomed over her as she sat in the chair, only increasing the feeling that he had the upper hand. “I’ve been there on several occasions. You make a damn good steak. Consider me a fan.”
“So then why the hell aren’t you renewing my lease? We’re doing well; we’ve gotten great reviews. I’ve never been late with the rent. I just don’t get it.” She wanted to scream with frustration. Wanted to reach over, wrap her fingers around his neck, and throttle him until he turned blue.
“It has nothing to do with your restaurant.” He shrugged as if none of it had any consequence. “I purchased the building about six months ago with a certain plan in mind, and unfortunately for you, my project requires the building in its entirety.”
“Just like that, huh? Easy peasy.” Her jaw was clenched so tight she was going to need dental work. “So, what about my restaurant? What about my employees and the people who depend on that income? You can’t just tell us to move, damn it. It cost a small fortune to design and build that space—and we had a renewal clause in our lease.”
He shrugged with a sigh. “I’m afraid the lease you signed had a renewal clause that was only valid with the original owner. Once the owner sold me the building, the renewal clause no longer applied, though it did require that I honor the lease to term. Which I’ve done. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m afraid I have other matters requiring my attention.”
How could she have been so stupid? At the time, she hadn’t been able to afford the costly legal fees, and thought her lease was a standard agreement. Yet the contract had been so convoluted with legalese, she had no doubt they’d been able to slip in a clause that escaped her.
Emma felt as though she might be ill. Her face felt numb and her ears were ringing, as if all the blood had drained to her lower extremities. She wasn’t one for hysterics, but her entire life was on the line. And more—so much more.
She refused to let him dismiss her as if none of it mattered. Because it did matter, more than anything. Her eyes stung with threatening tears as her life teetered on the edge of disaster. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t afford to move my restaurant. It took a fortune to make it happen the first time around—every penny I had. And we’re established in that location now. We’d lose half our clientele if we were forced to move.”
With her restaurant situated in the historic port district of Portmore, a large ocean-front town in northern Massachusetts, a good portion of her business came from the tourists who stayed in the nearby hotels, in addition to the local businesses. Even if she could scrape together the money to build at a new location, there was a good chance the whole thing would never get off the ground. And it had taken her years of working her ass off to get that money, climbing up the ladder in a field dominated by men who wouldn’t take her seriously until she forced them to see the error of their ways.
“It’s nothing personal, Ms. Sparrow. Just business.” He crossed his muscular arms in front of his chest as his gaze settled on her with a curiosity she hadn’t expected to see.
She shifted in her seat, and bit back the tirade she wanted to unleash on him. “It’s not just business, Mr. Ryker. And to me, it’s damn personal. It’s everything. My career, my savings, my life.” Crap. There was a lump forming in her throat, though she refused to show any weakness by shedding tears.
His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as he took her in, his lips twisting and pressing together as if in contemplation. “I’m not an unreasonable man. Perhaps…we can work something out.”
Relief washed over her, and she nearly jumped out of her seat to hug him. “Anything. I’ll do anything to make this wor
k.”
Amusement slipped into his openly triumphant smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Ms. Sparrow.”
Chapter Two
Quinn knew all about Emma Sparrow and her restaurant. He’d purchased the building six months ago and had every intention of overhauling it into a larger project. But what he hadn’t told her was that he’d wanted her from the moment he first laid eyes on her a few months ago when he’d walked into her restaurant to grab some dinner.
She’d been standing there in the open kitchen that allowed diners a view, rattling off orders to her staff like some five-star general in complete command of her armies. The food had been incredible—yet unpretentious. Just like her. And he’d been desperate for more—her included—from the very first bite.
He’d frequented her establishment more times than he’d liked to admit, taking clients and friends there, all as an excuse to see her once more. In a world he found increasingly boring, she’d offered him a bit of entertainment and beauty—and he could easily watch her work for hours and never tire of it.
However, today was the first time he’d ever spoken to her, touched her. And damn, but he was already in deep where Emma was concerned. He had to have her. Even if it was just for one night, to get her out of his system.
He had no time for a woman in his life, short of satisfying his healthy sex drive. Yet for Emma? He’d happily carve some time out of his busy schedule if it meant getting her naked body under his. And he was damn near willing to do anything it took to get those fuckable lips wrapped around his cock.
She was certainly pretty, but in an effortless and unconventional way: her mahogany hair pulled back into a messy ponytail with long shaggy bangs, big hazel eyes, and her berry-red lips in a pout that made him want to make good use of that mouth of hers. As for the rest of her, she might be petite, but the girl still had curves—real curves, in all the right places. She was a natural beauty, and all woman. Nothing like the women he normally dated—which may very well be a good thing, since more and more, he found himself bored and uninterested with them.