With Hearts Aflame: Valentine's Day Box Set

by Maren Smith

  I glanced behind me one more time and when I saw no one—no one important, anyway—I decided to reapply my makeup. I flipped the visor down and slid the mirror open. My dark brown eyes were snapping angrily. I studied my face; my skin was the same hue as light brown sugar which made the hideous pimple on my chin all the more noticeable. I wished, not for the first time, that I wasn’t so prone to breakouts when I was nervous. It was like an instant tell and I never wanted anyone to have one over me. I’d done my best to hide it with concealer. I used to have such a tan complexion before I began working sixty or more hours a week, I thought wistfully.

  My straight, jet-black hair fell well past my shoulders. My best features were my high cheekbones and my full lips. Other than that, I was pretty bleh as far as I was concerned. Lucky for me, I had a stellar brain.

  And modesty. I was great at modesty. The thought made me smirk, at least until I saw my phone vibrating away. A quick check showed that it was my assistant again. “What?” I snapped into the receiver.

  “Um, Ms. Donahue, I just spoke to Mr. Patterson and he wanted to know—”

  “Tell Mark to fuck off, and could you please make yourself useful and send out an email to let everyone know my situation? I will be there when I get there, Jackie. Got it?” Without waiting for a reply, I slammed the phone down onto the dashboard with all my might.

  My blood was really starting to boil and before I could calm down, I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head, I saw a beat-up white truck pulling in behind me sporting a “Fuller Brothers” logo on the side. Instead of feeling relieved, it only fueled my anger. He sure as hell had taken his time getting here! I threw my car door open and marched over, not sure what I intended to do. I knew I was going to let him have it and maybe I’d at least kick his tire or something. My mother always said I had a hot temper. I’d never believed her until that moment, with my blood coursing so hotly through my veins that I was practically seeing red as I waited for the truck door to open.

  When it finally did, I was ready. “About time you got here! I’ve been—” The words died on my lips as I realized that the man who’d stepped out definitely was not Curtis. Or was it Kervin? It didn’t matter, because whoever this was, he was taller, darker and hot with a capital H whereas what’s-his-name had always seemed a bit lanky and much too dorky for my tastes.

  The first thing I noticed about him was his flawless skin, marred only by the stubble darkening his strong jaw, both of which I found sexy. His hair was hidden under a “Fuller Brothers” cap but the dark brown brows above his sharp blue eyes gave me a clue. His face was so ruggedly handsome that it robbed me of the power of speech, which wasn’t something I was used to.

  “Sorry for your wait, Mrs. Donahue,” he replied dryly, in a voice so smooth it made my breath hitch. “What seems to be the problem?”

  Hearing him speak didn’t do anything to loosen my tongue. His voice was husky and warm all at once and as he walked toward me the scent of sandalwood on his skin almost made me dizzy with intoxication. It took several tries, but finally I found my voice, despite not being able to take my eyes off his lusciously full lips. “Ms.” I replied, my earlier impatience having evaporated.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said ‘Mrs.’ and there’s not, well, you know.” I felt my cheeks flush. I never, ever stammered. “There isn’t a Mr. Donahue.”

  I could see a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth as he arched a dark brow. I watched as he took his time sliding his eyes down my body, looking me over. I was used to seeing men give me the once-over, never in my life did I consider asking one of them what they thought—until now. “Is that so? Well then, should we take a look at your car?”

  I felt like such an idiot. A blathering moron. What the hell was wrong with me? Sure, his well-built, muscled body was nice to look at, but I’d seen plenty of good-looking guys. What millionaire hadn’t? We walked to my car—I let him stay a step ahead of me so I could have a good view. The more I saw, the more impressed I became. I loved a man with big, broad shoulders and his butt wasn’t hard to look at, either.

  “Can I get the keys?”

  Boy, he didn’t mince words, did he? “Sure.” I reached in to my coat pocket. “Where’s Kevin?”

  His blue eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “If you’re talking about my brother, his name is Corbin.”

  “Oh, Corbin!” I exclaimed, slapping my hand on my leg. So that was it.

  “Yeah, normally he handles the service calls, but he said something about not being in the mood to deal with entitled rich girls. Something along those lines.”

  His words caused me to flush even brighter and I ducked my head to hide my burning cheeks. So he’d heard about that.

  “But I don’t see any of those here, do you, Ms. Donahue?”

  “No, Sir.” The reply came to me instantaneously, though I was even more embarrassed—if that were possible—once the words left my lips. There was something about the quiet authority in his voice, his easy, assuming manner that had made me feel the need to “sir” him.

  If he found it odd, he gave no indication. “The keys, please?”

  “Oh. Right.” I pulled them from my pocket and handed them over, dropping them into his palm before our fingers could meet. Physical contact with this man was the last thing I needed right now when he’d already reduced me to a lovesick teenager with his sexy voice and gorgeous eyes.

  Get a grip, the devil on my shoulder snapped at me. Wake up! So he’s got a handsome face, so what? Does that give him any right to talk to you like that? I shook my head, but the thoughts kept coming until I started to get annoyed. Come to think of it, what right did he have to make assumptions about me? Why should he assume that I was entitled, based on a conversation he hadn’t even had with me? Who the hell did he think he was to talk to me in that stern, no-nonsense voice, and for that matter, why did it make my heart skip a beat?

  “How long are you going to be?” I called out, anger making my voice petulant.

  “As long as it takes to do a thorough job. You wouldn’t expect anything less, would you?”

  “Just get it fucking done,” I muttered. I thought I’d spoken low enough under my breath for the comment to go undetected, but the minute he climbed out of the car and stood facing me, I knew better.

  “What was that?” He was smiling but I could see the displeasure in his arched eyebrow and the unspoken warning in his voice.

  I hesitated, which was another first for me, swallowing hard as I waffled between apologizing and pretending he’d misheard me. I’d always been a bit of a spit-fire, and this was the first man I’d ever considered apologizing to for it. In the end, though, I stretched to my full 5’4 height, throwing my shoulders back and giving him the look that I’d been told was intimidating, the one I normally reserved for business meetings. “I’m late. I need you to move this along.”

  “If it were that simple, I’d be done already. But as things stand right now, I don’t have the first clue what’s wrong with your vehicle and I won’t if you keep making unreasonable demands. I’m going to take the time to get this done right, or not do it at all. Your choice.”

  I narrowed my eyes, but he met my eyes without flinching. He pinned me with the intensity in his gaze until I was forced to look away. I swallowed again, wondering why my mouth suddenly felt so dry. “Fine.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “Fine,” I repeated, facing him again and speaking through gritted teeth. “Do what you have to do.”

  “First I’ll be needing an apology.”

  Despite how calmly and matter-of-fact he sounded, I took a step back when the words registered. “A what?”

  “An apology for your behavior, Ms. Donahue, along with a promise that it won’t happen again.”

  “But—” I spluttered, wondering what was happening to me. Normally, he’d have apologized to me by now. Either I was losing my edge, or this man was somehow unaffected
by my steely gaze and resolute demeanor. It must be an off day for me all around. “I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

  He smiled and even though I knew he was mocking me, his confidant, pearly-white grin was nearly my undoing. Just the sight of it had my panties dampening in a way that made me distinctly uncomfortable. “I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter. Those are my terms, take it or leave it.”

  If looks could kill, his sexy, perfect body would have fallen at my feet. Not only did he not die, he didn’t even look fazed by my piercing glare. What I wanted to know was, when had I lost control of this situation? When had it even become a situation? I didn’t know what annoyed me more—his bossy attitude, or that my body seemed so responsive to it. The best thing for me to do would be to get away from this man and the sooner, the better.

  “I need to get in to my car—Move.” I scowled at him as he raised his dark brows. “Please.” Once he’d stepped aside, I marched toward my Porsche, reaching inside for my purse. As soon as I had it in my grasp I began riffling around for my phone.

  “You know, I’ve met women like you before. You think because you have a lot of money you own people. I had a girlfriend with a temper like yours once. She spent more time over my knee than off it.”

  I froze, my hand in mid-grab. It had been a long time since I’d met someone—anyone—who could put me off my game. Despite my need to stay pissed, I slowly turned my head to look at him. Was he teasing me? But no, the expression on his face hadn’t changed. He was watching me, waiting for my reaction. Could he see how his words made me tremble? Could it be possible that he was saying what I thought he was?

  I heard a sound like rushing in my ears. This couldn’t be happening. Yet, the more I denied it, the more my blood surged through me, hot and ready for anything he might propose. “Where is my damn phone?” I cried out. Just then, I remembered I’d put it on the dashboard. I picked it up and hit the button to bring up the screen, but nothing happened. I tried again, and again, pressing it harder and harder each time, but the screen stayed maddeningly blank. When I remembered how I’d slammed in onto the dashboard, dread filled me. What had I done?

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No.” I gave him a clipped smile, trying to make my voice belie my sinking heart. Now I’d never be able to call someone else for help. I couldn’t even take Mark up on his offer to send a car for me. “Everything’s fine. Let’s just get my car fixed and we can both get on with our day.”

  He nodded, still watching me, for what I did not know. “Fine by me.”

  But he didn’t make a move to go back to my car, and the longer I watched him standing motionless the more it became clear what he was waiting for. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath before spitting the words out: “I’m sorry.”

  He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. He was a good head taller than me, so he inclined his head. “Are you now?”

  I was just as caught off guard by the sweetness in his deep, husky voice as I was by the smile on his lips. It truly transformed him, taking his features from handsome to startling. I wanted to fall in his arms on the spot. I wanted to let him possess me, the way his blue-gray eyes had been telling me they wanted to since the moment he’d first seen me. I wanted to melt against him for as long as he’d let me.

  Or so I thought, until I heard his next words. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to cover it anymore. If you want me to fix your car, you’re going to have to take the spanking I mentioned earlier.”

  Chapter 2

  My heart pounded in my ears and my mouth went dry. I swallowed hard, my tongue tasting as gritty as sandpaper as my mind raced. I certainly didn’t want to let him spank me—at least, I didn’t think I did—but what else could I do? “And if I don’t?” I asked, tossing my head. I felt my black hair swish behind me. I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I had to be sure.

  “If you don’t, you’ll need to find someone else to come out and take care of this for you.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t expected any less. “I can pay you double your normal fee,” I replied briskly. It was an old stand-by and it had never failed me.

  Until now. I could see it in his face, in his cocked eyebrow, the way his shoulders had set. This had nothing to do about money and was about principle. By suggesting I could change it by throwing money at him, I’d damaged his pride. “That isn’t going to work on me,” he said, his tone suddenly cool, confirming everything I’d suspected. “But if you need a phone, you can borrow mine.”

  I had been mentally kicking myself—why did I always think money solved everything? Never mind that it usually did—but once his words registered all I could do was blink at him. I prided myself on being able to read people quickly, but this man was an enigma if I’d ever met one. A tall, hunky enigma that had sex appeal coming out of every toned muscle. “Really?” I finally managed to squeak out.

  “Of course.” There was that amazing smile again. “I’m not a jerk, Karen.”

  I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t resist smiling back, just a little. “That’s the first time you haven’t called me ‘Ms. Donahue’.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is. You aren’t going to yell at me again, are you?”

  My cheeks colored—I could feel the heat practically radiating from them—and I mutely shook my head.

  “Good girl.”

  My eyes flew to his face at lightning speed; electricity crackled in the air when he met my gaze head-on. I searched his face, desperate for any sign that the words were more than an off-hand atta-girl, but it was hard since I didn’t really know what I was looking for.

  What was it about his voice that made my heart jump into my throat and set my pulse to racing triple time? Especially when he said things like that. No one but my Grandma had ever called me “good girl” and I didn’t think I ever wanted to hear her say it again—not after he’d made it sound so erotic that I was left standing there with my sex pulsing underneath my clothes and no idea how to erase the X-rated thoughts that had filled my mind, pouring in one after another.

  “Karen? What’s it going to be? Do you want to call someone?”

  Let him spank you, for God’s sake! My little devil championed. A little pain now for pleasure later! I waited, listening hard, but my angel was MIA.

  Studying him, I weighed my options. With the loan of his phone, I could easily get out of this predicament. One phone call, and whoosh: problem solved, just like that. So why was I even thinking twice?

  Maybe because of how sexy he was, that was a part of it. But if I dug deeper, I knew that I deserved a reprimand for my behavior and he was the first one in years to challenge me and I found to my surprise that I liked it. I was used to being around men who either couldn’t get out a sentence over their stammering or men that were so pompous they were boring. This guy seemed to be anything but.

  “What’s your name?” I asked suddenly, surprised that I hadn’t asked earlier.

  His grin was quick this time. “Brandon. And I notice that’s not your typical ‘get me out of here’ answer.”

  I looked down for an instant before meeting his gaze again. “There is nothing typical about me, Brandon,” I said in a breathy undertone.

  He assessed me for a long moment, his gaze as gentle as a caress. “I think you’re probably right about that. You want me to fix your car, I take it?” I nodded slowly, and he watched me for a moment longer before agreeing. “okay then. I will, but I am going to take my time, and I will not have you rushing me, understand?”

  I licked my lips. “Understood.”

  “Good. Now, go stand by my truck.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  He laughed softly and it made my cheeks flush again. Damn my dark complexion! “Because I don’t want you underfoot, keeping me distracted.”

  When the words registered, both my eyebrows shot all the way up. I distracted him? Me? It was a strange world. Without another word, I turned around and walk
ed toward his truck. They were tiny, hesitant baby-steps, but I made it there all the same. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken orders from a man, particularly when it concerned my baby.

  It was hard enough to watch as he began walking around my car, circling it like a vulture going in for the kill. I turned away, determined not to look. If I did, I might end up screaming again.

  It wasn’t like I tried to be mean. I didn’t, I just had a super-stressful job and worked on very little sleep. Ever since I created the company Dusty Records and became CEO, people treated me differently. They didn’t look at me like a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks anymore, they looked at me like I was somebody. It was an addicting feeling, and for the last six years I’d enjoyed seeing people jump just because I said so. There was no request that seemed too outrageous. No one ever questioned me or told me to quit, so I’d grown accustomed to getting my way.

  I couldn’t say at what point it had all gone stale, but it had. Barking orders no longer held any thrill for me, it was just something I did. There was a part of me, buried deep down—but not so deep I could forget its existence—that wanted someone else to take charge for once.

  ***

  Brandon

  Regardless of the fact I’d told her very sternly, in no uncertain terms that I didn’t want to be distracted, I would have had to put her on another planet rather than a few measly feet away. Karen Donahue was as beautiful as she was fiery, as sexy as she was sassy. One look at her cute, voluptuous bottom and my mouth almost hit the floor. My palm had been itching since I’d first seen her and that was long before she’d opened her mouth and given me a reason to carry out the discipline I craved to give her.