His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit)

by Terri Austin

  After the meeting, Iain smiled, lingered for a bit, chatted up his partners. While he never doubted that getting in with this group had been a good move, Iain liked having a more hands-on approach with his projects, which was why he needed someone like Trevor Blake as an investor.

  Iain left the meeting with a renewed sense of purpose. He wasn’t going to let this apartment project flounder. The time to move was now. If Trevor didn’t want to invest, he’d surely have other contacts. Sunday dinner with Brynn’s family was the perfect time to meet Trevor, feel him out, and see if he’d be receptive to a deal.

  Before heading back to the office, Iain stopped by Tyler’s school to watch his football game. He cast an eye over the parents in lawn chairs, screaming instructions and encouragement in equal parts. Iain noted there were as many dads as there were mums. These parents took time out of their busy day to come and watch their kids play. He had a hard time wrapping his head around that. According to Iain’s mum, his father hadn’t even shown up at the hospital when Iain was born. Too busy getting plastered. The old bastard had his priorities after all.

  Tyler was a bit shorter than most of the other boys on the team. Iain wondered if he was self-conscious about it. But the lad could kick. When he scored a goal, Iain felt a smile tug at his mouth. Found himself clapping and shouting with the other parents.

  It was a close game, 6–7, with Tyler’s team taking a hit. As the lad ran toward him, Iain greeted him with a smile and a pat on the back. “Nice goal.”

  Tyler’s ginger hair, drenched with sweat, clung to his forehead. He had Amelia’s blue eyes. “Thanks. What are you doing here?”

  “Came to watch you play.”

  Tyler took a long pull on his sports bottle. “Mom sent you here to lecture me, didn’t she?”

  Iain didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but he knew this kid, had since Tyler was in nappies. “Yeah, she did. She’s worried about you. Come on, we’ll stop and get something to eat on the way to the office.”

  “I usually get a ride with Todd’s mom.”

  “Not today, mate.” Iain placed his hand on Tyler’s damp back and directed him to the car. “So how often does your mum come and see these games?”

  “Only on Saturdays. It’s cool. She has to work.”

  Iain instructed his driver to take them to a burger place. Tyler ordered enough food for his entire team and then proceeded to gobble down every bite. Reminded Iain of himself at that age. All arms and legs. Davy’s mum would fix a huge tea, knowing that he and Marc would invariably show up and eat her out of house and home. Fish fingers—that’s what Mrs. Franklin usually served. The melancholy ache that always accompanied memories of Davy wasn’t as sharp today.

  Iain set aside the past and fixed his gaze on Tyler. “Why are your grades on the decline, mate?”

  Tyler shrugged and lowered his head.

  “Oh, that moody bullshit might work with your mother, but it ain’t going to work on me. Answer the question.”

  Tyler stared out the window. “Some of the guys have started making fun of me, for being so small. It’s like, embarrassing. They say stuff online and it pisses me off.”

  “As it should. Are these knobs on your football team?”

  Tyler faced him. “You’re in America. It’s time to call it soccer.”

  “Never.”

  “No, the guys on my team are fine. It’s some of the other guys in my class.”

  “How is this affecting your game with the ladies?”

  Tyler rolled his eyes. “What ladies? Girls don’t even notice me. I have red hair and freckles, and I’m short.”

  “So naturally you should fail your classes to prove that you’re brainless as well, eh?”

  “It just doesn’t seem to matter.” He shrugged again.

  “You like your footb…soccer?”

  “Yeah. It’s the best part of the day.”

  Iain whipped out his phone and pulled up a picture of Wayne Rooney. “Take a good look at this bloke.” He showed Tyler the screen. “Not exactly George Clooney, is he? But he’s brill on the field. Focus on what you’re good at. And if you want your mum off your back, get the grades up.”

  “It’s easy for you. You’re tall and girls like you. But for me, life sucks.”

  “It sucks for everyone, mate. But if it’s all too bloody difficult, then give up. Fail your classes, forget that fancy school I’m paying for, and get kicked off the football team. It’s your life, innit? Never pictured you as a quitter, but I’ve been wrong a time or two.” He swiped the screen and checked his email.

  “You’re terrible at this.”

  Iain’s brow rose. “At what?”

  “Pep talks.”

  “What are most pep talks like?”

  “You’re supposed to tell me I’m smart. That I shouldn’t listen to the dicks who tease me. That I’ll grow up and all this will be behind me.”

  “Is that what your mum tells you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Has it worked?”

  He flopped his sweaty head against the back of the seat. “No.”

  “They’re not physically beating you, are they?”

  “No. They just call me a leprechaun. They post gnomes on my wall.”

  “Then I’m going to tell you straight, yeah? This doesn’t just apply to school, it applies to your life. You can let the fuckers have power over you, or you can have power over yourself. But you can’t do both. So you need to decide. Simple as that.”

  Tyler remained silent for the rest of the drive. When they reached the office building, Iain climbed out first, handed the driver a couple of bills for the mess in the backseat, and waited for Tyler to emerge with all his gear.

  Iain followed the boy inside. Once they stepped on the lift, Iain nudged Tyler’s arm. “You’re really quite good as a forward, but you leave yourself open. Need to look up every once in a while and watch for your teammates.”

  They stepped off and walked down the hall to the Blue Moon offices. As Iain reached for the door, Tyler glanced up at him. “I want the power.”

  “Yeah. So what are you going to do about it?” Iain asked.

  “Ignore the haters.”

  “That’s a start. And here’s what I’ve learned in business. Everyone is self-conscious about something. Study your opponent. Really watch him. Find his weakness. Then use it against him.”

  Tyler nodded. “Got it.”

  The rest of the day passed quickly, but Iain made sure he spoke with Ames before she left. “You need to hire yourself an assistant.”

  “What?”

  “Hire someone, train them, then you can cut out early when you need to. No reason for you to stay till after six each night.”

  Amelia’s lips pursed. “What are you trying to say, Iain? That I can’t handle my job? Because I assure you, I’m on top of my game, mister.”

  Iain briefly closed his eyes, then stood. “This is what I get for trying to be considerate. I don’t think you’re falling down on the job, Ames. I just think Tyler would like it if you showed up at his football matches. If you were home a little earlier, you could spend more time with him. He needs you right now. He’d rather eat his own tongue than admit it, but it’s true.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” Amelia whispered. “First you’re talking to employees, and now you’re concerned about Tyler’s soccer matches? This is Brynn’s doing isn’t it? I’m going to have to send her a thank-you note.”

  “Oh, come off it. You know I’m crazy about Tyler, but I never thought of it until now. And just because I’m mucking about with that lot out there”—he pointed at the office door—“doesn’t mean I’ve lost my edge.”

  “No one’s accusing you of that, Iain. It’s just you’re…acting like a person instead of a dictator. Everyone’s noticed. They like the change.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I haven’t changed. I’m just giving Brynn’s ideas a try. They’re going to fail in the end. It’s all tosh.” But maybe
Brynn was right about a couple of things. He could behave like more of a human being and less of an asshole. People did respond to friendly patter. Iain still didn’t see the need for it, but others did. Made them feel appreciated. Perhaps it wasn’t complete rubbish.

  “Anyway, go home, Ames. Enjoy your weekend. And bring that little twat into the office after school if you want. He can do his homework at an empty desk. Might pick up a thing or two about business.”

  “There’s the Iain I know and love, calling my twelve-year-old son a twat. Warms a mother’s heart.” She smiled and left the room.

  * * *

  Brynn called Iain and let him know that Natasha was back in her own home. But before he could suggest that she go over to his place, she invited him to hers. Brynn liked her comfy little home much better than Iain’s expensive, sterile apartment.

  He offered to bring dinner and wine. Brynn promised dessert.

  Since she had cookies to bake, Brynn decided to leave a little earlier than normal. But as soon as she emerged from her office, Cass pounced, as though she’d been lying in wait.

  “Brynn, my office.”

  The two remaining salesmen shot her looks of sympathy. She didn’t need sympathy. She just needed a brain break. In the last few days, Brynn had been working furiously to catch up on her assignments. She’d made some real headway, but there was always more to do.

  Cass sat behind her desk. As far as Brynn could tell, not a thing had been disturbed since her last visit. Folders still rose toward the ceiling, the binders she’d toppled were exactly as she’d left them, and boxes of promotional products were stacked in the same corner.

  “Iain Chapman was here this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, he dropped by.” Iain took time away from business to see her. Just when Brynn was ready to give up on him, he’d do something unexpected. Thoughtful. She may never figure out all the inner workings of Iain Chapman, but he kept her on her toes.

  “What did he want?”

  Brynn pulled her head out of the clouds. “Um, I left his office early today to cover a few things here.”

  Cass tapped her fingers nervously on her desk. “We can’t afford to alienate him, Brynn. He’s too big of a client. What the hell were you thinking?”

  That talk she needed to have with Cassandra about the business was long overdue. She couldn’t procrastinate anymore. “I know you’re having financial troubles. The business is teetering on the brink of failure, Cass.”

  Cass sucked in air as her blue eyes flashed with anger. “Who told you that?”

  “It didn’t take a genius to figure out.” Only a millionaire with access to her boss’s personal information. It dawned on Brynn that maybe Iain’d had her checked out, too. But she had no secrets, nothing to hide. Until recently, Brynn’s life had been a very short, boring book.

  “You can’t tell anyone else, Brynn. I don’t want to panic the others.”

  “What are you going to do to get back on track? Iain must be paying you a fortune. Is it enough to turn things around?”

  Cass, the boss who’d described her last period in excruciating detail, suddenly became affronted. “That’s absolutely none of your business. I can handle my own financial matters, thank you very much. You work on finishing your inbox and we’ll be fine.”

  Cass was bluffing, and her tell was the way she swiped the curls back from her forehead.

  Brynn overlooked Cass’s snappy attitude. Every time she got backed into a corner, Cass came out hissing. “I know some financial people. My brother-in-law, for instance. He could hook you up with someone. The two of you could go over the books, make a plan for solvency.”

  “I said I’ll handle it.” Swipe, swipe. “You’re coming in this weekend. Right?”

  Other than Paige, Brynn wouldn’t call the people she worked with friends exactly, but she’d hate to see them unemployed. Still, Brynn desperately needed some downtime. She wanted to head out to the desert with her camera. She wanted to lie in bed all day with Iain. She wanted to bake and take her nephews to the movies and hit the flea market. Brynn was tired of working seven days a week. “I’ll come in on Saturday, but not Sunday.”

  Cass’s eyes bulged. “I’m going to have to insist that you do.” Swipe, swipe.

  “If you’re really concerned about the business, you’ll either start taking some of the load off me or at least hire a temp to help out. Good night, Cass.”

  Brynn left her sputtering boss and the office with a bounce in her step. She’d done it. Brynn had stood up for herself, and it felt liberating. Why did it feel so good to stand up to Cass, but barking at Iain this morning had left Brynn wracked with guilt? He’d never admit it, but her words had wounded him; she’d seen it in his eyes. She had the power to hurt him, and she took that seriously.

  Brynn hopped in her car and sped through traffic, zipping between lanes. As soon as she made it home, she hit the shower, chose a short sundress for a change, and whipped up some chocolate chip cookies. She was taking the last batch out of the oven when the doorbell rang.

  Iain stood on her porch with a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He looked her up and down. “That dress is bloody brilliant. I can see your legs for a change.”

  She stepped aside to let him in. “You’ve seen my legs before.”

  “Oh, yes I have.”

  “Let’s go into the kitchen.”

  “Smells like a bakery.” When he got to the doorway, Iain drew to a standstill. “Fuck me. It’s pink.”

  Brynn took the pizza out of his hand and laid it on the table. “You don’t like it?”

  “Who the fuck has a pink fridge? And stove?”

  “A fifties housewife. I have pink appliances, too. You should see my toaster.”

  He slipped his jacket off and looked around. “It’s just so…bloody pink.”

  Brynn laughed and grabbed a couple of wineglasses. “You never cook anyway. Your kitchen could be purple and it wouldn’t bother you.”

  “Trust me, if my kitchen were purple—no, you’re right. I still wouldn’t care.” He sat down at the table and Brynn placed a plate and a cloth napkin in front of him.

  “Thanks again for stopping by my office today.”

  He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. “You’re welcome. But you’ll come back to Blue Moon next week, right?”

  “Iain, do you really need me?”

  His brows lowered and the lines across his forehead deepened. “Yes. We’re doing that liaison thing. Also, I told James to pick some kind of planning committee for flowers and parties and all the rest of that bullshit.”

  Brynn leaned back and studied him. “That was a really great idea.”

  He stuck his finger in the neckline of her peach-colored dress and peered down at her bare breasts. “I’m full of good ideas. I’ve got one right now.”

  Laughing, Brynn smacked his hand away. “After dinner.” She angled her head and gave him a teasing kiss, not too deep, with just a hint of tongue. Then she bounded off his lap and took a seat next to him.

  “You’re playing with fire.”

  Brynn smiled. “How was the rest of your day?” She slid a piece of pepperoni pizza onto his plate.

  “What do you know about twelve-year-old boys?”

  “Not much more than when I was a twelve-year-old girl. Why?”

  “Amelia’s lad, he’s going through it. He’s smaller than the other kids. Ginger. Freckly. Cute as hell, but of course the girls haven’t noticed that yet.”

  Brynn wiped her hands on a napkin and stared at him. “Tyler, is that his name?”

  “Yeah. The other kids are making fun of him. I don’t know if the advice I gave helped or hurt. Giving advice, that’s your specialty.”

  Brynn poured the wine and acted like what Iain had told her was no big deal. In reality, her heart melted toward him even more. Okay, shape up, jellyfish. He’s not a saint. No, but he cared about someone other than himself. Really cared. Enough to ask her
opinion.

  “So what did you tell him?”

  “I told him not to give his power away and to use his opponent’s weakness to gain the upper hand.”

  Brynn took a sip of wine. “Okay. I might have gone a different direction, but Tyler looks up to you and you gave him solid advice—minus the revenge factor.”

  “Revenge is always a factor.” Iain ripped the crust from his pizza and ate it first.

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  “Don’t think that’s possible, love.”

  Now her heart was completely melted, like a Bomb Pop in the middle of July.

  “And Marc is still rowing with Melanie. Bad business that. She wants to get married.”

  “How long have they been together?”

  “Two years.”

  “He loves her, but he’s not willing to make a commitment? I don’t understand men.”

  “Sadly, love, we’re not that complicated.”

  “Not true. If Marc loves Melanie, why doesn’t he want to get married?”

  “He’s afraid he’ll muck it up, right? What if it all ends badly?”

  Brynn shook her head. “It is going to end badly, by the sound of it. If he doesn’t step up to the plate, he’s going to lose her now.”

  Iain poured her another glass of wine. “It’s like this—men have to be mentally ready to commit. And if he’s not ready, he’ll always feel trapped. How is it for women?”

  Brynn shrugged. “According to my sisters, they just knew. They fell in love and they knew. My brothers-in-law were slower on the uptake.”

  “We men often are. So how was the rest of your day, love? Get enough oxygen in that miniature room of yours?”

  “Barely. I confronted Cass about the business.”

  He set his glass down. “Well done. How did it feel?”

  Brynn knew her grin was goofy, but she didn’t care. “It felt really good. It didn’t solve anything, of course. Cass is still Cass and she’s going to run the business her own way. But I told her I wasn’t going to work all weekend. I’m taking Sunday off.”

  His eyes turned to that molasses color, warm and hot. “Excellent. Then we have a date—lazy Sunday sex.”

  “Followed by dinner at my sister’s house. Which we can still decline.”