Swept into the Tycoon's World

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Swept into the Tycoon's World Page 5

by Cara Colter


  CHAPTER FOUR

  BUT THEN HE spoiled it all when he said, “You look just like Little Red Riding Hood.”

  Just the look she was going for! Should she tell him he looked just like the Big Bad Wolf? Before she could, he spoke again.

  “I’ve provided the wolf, I’m afraid. Beau usually doesn’t like people.”

  Hmmm, he thought the dog was the wolf.

  “Not that he’s nasty or anything,” Brand continued, “just colossally indifferent.”

  That look she thought she had seen was gone from his face and, in fact, Bree wondered if it wasn’t her ever fertile imagination going into overdrive. She’d thought she had made a breakthrough in being perceived as an adult woman, but he was seeing a character out of a fairy tale!

  “Let me show you around,” Brand said, then led her to the door and held it open for her. Beau sat as she passed.

  “Look at him,” Brand said, “anxious to prove he’s the perfect gentleman, and not the Big Bad Wolf.”

  As she went by him, Bree had the impression that Brand was uncomfortable, as if he knew, in that split second, he had revealed something he didn’t want to reveal, and was now covering his tracks as quickly as possible.

  If his intention was to distract, the room she found herself in certainly did that!

  It was like nothing she had ever seen before.

  It was a huge open space, scattered with deep fabric chairs that could have been mistaken for boulders, if people were not sunk so deeply into them. A cat was curled up in one young lady’s lap.

  Bree shot Beau a look, but he was looking off into the distance, regally indifferent to the cat.

  “The cat and him sorted things out a long time ago,” Brand said. “He’s terrified.”

  “People bring their pets to work?” she asked, astounded. It was one thing for the boss to bring his dog on occasion, but it was startling to see the cat.

  Brand nodded. She noticed a colorful hammock was suspended by ropes from the arched wooden beams of the ceiling, and a bearded fellow swung gently, as he tossed a beanbag in the air above his head and caught it. At the far end of the room the whole wall was covered in the colorful footholds and handholds of a climbing wall. There was a ball pit, of all things, filled to overflowing with bright yellow and red and blue balls. Music, a flute she thought, flooded the area.

  A guy walked by them in bare feet. “Hiya, boss. Beau.”

  The dog, as Brand had predicted, was indifferent to the greeting. Brand took her elbow and guided her through the rock chairs and past the hammock bed hanging in the middle of the room.

  He ushered her into his office and dropped Beau’s leash. The dog padded across the floor to a large doggie bed.

  The office was beautiful and expansive. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the cityscape, and beyond that she could see the ocean and mountains, still white-capped at this time of year. A gorgeous desk, possibly rosewood, with deep chairs in front of it, anchored the room, but off to one side two love seats faced each other over a glass-and-steel coffee table.

  “This seems like the only conventional space on the whole floor,” she said. “Except, of course, for Beau, who is, um, hardly conventional.”

  The dog did several circles on the bed, then with a happy sigh, laid down.

  “What on earth is his breeding?” she asked. “I think the floor shook when he settled!”

  “He’s part bullmastiff. And part rhinoceros. I’ve held off on letting the world know there was a successful interspecies breeding. He’s introverted. I don’t think he could handle the attention.”

  “I can clearly see he’s introverted,” she laughed.

  “I suspect you smell overwhelmingly of cookies. He really is introverted, as I said, largely indifferent to people, with the exception of me. Have a seat.” He gestured to the love seats, rather than the seats in front of his desk. “Can I get you something?”

  “No, thanks.” She sank into the masculine, distressed leather, and Brand took a seat on the identical one across from her. “Is that a Lalique?” she said of the vase on the coffee table between them.

  “A leak?” he said, and looked around puzzled.

  “The vase.”

  Then she saw he was teasing her. His eyes sparkled with devilment.

  “Yeah, their Midnight Blue collection. According to my designer, an investment.” He rolled his eyes.

  She knew she should be entirely professional, and just get down to business, but as always, he had a gift for putting her at ease. Curiosity overwhelmed her. “Tell me about that space out there. I have never seen anything like it.”

  “The thing about a business like mine is you can’t just go with one idea. You have to be looking for the next one, and the next one after that. You have to be continually evolving and you have to be light-years ahead of the competition and the copycats.

  “I’m good at business,” Brand said, “and maybe even great at it. But I’m not strong in creativity, and I don’t have top-of-the-line tech skills. And so I want to attract the best and brightest computer and creative working minds in the business. And I want to keep them. I’ve researched what makes a happy and productive workplace, and it’s evolving it. That guy in the hammock, tossing the beanbag? His name’s Kevin. He had an idea that made the company ten million dollars last year. He is one guy I make sure to talk to every single day.”

  “That’s a lot of cookies,” she said with a gulp. “The article—correction, the damn article—never said how it all began.”

  She still felt nervous, and a little off balance. But, of course, here she sat, Little Red Riding Hood, hair in shambles, her makeup licked off and her cloak askew. It would be good if she could get him talking until her wits came back!

  “I had an idea a few years back—kind of Uber meets Facebook, only in real time. I was traveling overseas for the company I worked for at the time. I was in Copenhagen and had a couple of hours on my hands. I thought, I wonder if I could find a pick-up game of hockey anywhere?”

  She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just so Canadian. And so guy somehow.”

  He smiled. That smile! So charming. So sexy! He leaned forward. His gift, or one of his gifts, was that he could make anyone feel as if they were the only person in the world that mattered to him.

  “I know. A more sophisticated guy probably would have been checking out the museums and art galleries and restaurants. But I’d been on airplanes and in meetings for three days and I just wanted to blow off some steam and get very physical.”

  She felt her admiration for him grow even more. Because, really? If a guy like him wanted to get physical... She had to wrestle the blush that was threatening back down her throat.

  Instead, her tone completely professional, she said, “It seems ironic that this hugely successful company came out of a desire to play hockey.”

  “I know, there is a bit of a bizarre element to it. Even more so because I was in no way unhappy with what I was doing. Loved my company. Loved the job. But this idea wouldn’t let me go.”

  She actually had a general idea, from the magazine article, exactly where his thought of playing hockey in Denmark had taken him, but she was enjoying hearing about the birth of his company from him, directly and in detail.

  “Intents was born. I liked how the name said one thing, but if you said it out loud it sounded like another—intense.

  “The premise is you find yourself in a strange city, or country, but you like playing hockey or you like rock climbing or you like going to the opera or you like playing chess. An app shows you where to find those activities, and also people nearby who might be available to do them with you. You’ve been security-checked, they’ve been security-checked. It’s all totally free. The pop-up ads on the website and app pay for i
t.”

  “It’s quite brilliant,” she said.

  “Thanks, I’m proud of it. One of the things that surprised me, but is very satisfying, is how deep, lasting friendships come out of these connections sometimes. It’s simply a great way to meet people who like the same things as you. We’ve had several weddings as a result.”

  “That isn’t a dig at me meeting a guy on e-Us is it?”

  “Who stiffed you with the bill,” he reminded her.

  “Thank you, Chelsea,” she said. They both laughed, but when the laughter died, he was looking at her intently.

  “What did you mean when you said you could tell me a thing or two about unforgivable?” he asked softly.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered.

  “When I said the dog knocking you over was unforgivable, you said—”

  “I know what I said. A slip.” She was not telling him. She clamped her mouth firmly shut and folded her arms over her chest. “Let’s talk about cookies,” she said brightly.

  “I don’t think you should be meeting people on e-Us,” he said.

  “Really?” she said. He did not appear to hear the coolness in her tone. “That’s the accepted way of meeting people in this day and age.”

  “Well, it sucks.”

  She thought back over the majority of her experiences on e-Us. He had her there. “How would you suggest meeting people?”

  “You like books? Go to a bookstore and tap some guy on the shoulder. Ask him what he’s reading.”

  “That seems very forward. And maybe even dangerous.”

  “Unless he’s in the memoirs-of-serial-killers section, you’re probably okay,” he said drily. “Geez, meeting a complete stranger, whose profile you’ve seen on the internet, is better somehow?”

  “It’s always in a public place. For a cup of coffee. Not very different than what we did the other night.”

  “I am not a complete stranger! I’m sure you knew, from our former acquaintance, I wasn’t going to wait outside in the parking lot and club you over the head. Or follow you home. And I’m sure you knew I wasn’t going to stiff you with the bill.”

  “Thank you, again, Chelsea.”

  “Not that I’ve been on one of them—”

  She’d guessed right on that account!

  “But it seems to me the problem with dating sites would be you can’t get a read for people, the way you do when you meet them in person. The site is filtering all the facts. Even the picture can be a lie, can’t it?”

  She would certainly not admit that her last date had looked at least ten years older than he had in his profile picture.

  “Plus there’s the problem of sitting across from someone you barely know in a coffee shop. How does that not end up feeling awkward? Like an interview?”

  She hated it that he, who had never been on a dating site, was picking up the weaknesses of the system.

  Why was it that this meeting, which was supposed to be an interview of sorts, did not feel like one at all?

  “If you’d seen that guy in the bookstore, your little hinky sense would have told you—jerk. Something about the way he was standing, or the hole in his jeans, or the kind of book he was reading.”

  “Especially if he was in the serial-killer section!”

  “More subtle. How to Get Your Internet for Free, Collecting Coupons for Dummies.”

  She had the awful thought this was why she was really here. Despite her every effort to be the consummate professional, to correct those first impressions, here they were again.

  With him feeling some kind of obligation to take care of her!

  She had to get this back on track. The encounter with the dog had literally knocked down her defenses!

  “All right,” she said brightly. “I’ll get the Intents app on my phone. Next time I’m in Denmark, I’ll meet some fellow Harry Potter fans. I’ll probably end up marrying one.”

  Harry Potter? Had she really said Harry Potter? She, who wanted to appear so grown up?

  “Is that guy on the hammock out there single?” she said in a rush to correct impressions. “Maybe, on my way out, I’ll just stop and ask him what he’s throwing around. Is he single?”

  “He is,” Brand said drily, “but you have to speak Klingon to interest him.”

  “Klingon,” she repeated, playing along. “I could learn. How often would I have to watch Star Wars to pick it up?”

  “Star Trek. A mistake I’m okay with. Kevin? Not so much.”

  He was smiling. As if he found her intensely amusing! And here she was playing along with him. Well, enough was enough!

  “Is that why I’m really here? Not to sell you cookies, but so that you can give me unsolicited advice about my personal life?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BREE KNEW SHE should stop right there, but she didn’t.

  “Despite playing the role at my senior prom, you are not my big brother!”

  “You’re right,” Brand said. “I’m sorry. I’ve overstepped. I was acting like your protector, and—”

  So, she had guessed right. She was here out of some form of sympathy. Support for the old boss’ daughter. Okay, just the tiniest bit of weakness unfolded in her when he said protector like that. Oh! To have a protector such as him! She felt as if she had been on her own, with no one to lean on, for so long.

  But, no! She was not giving in to that weakness. She was here to correct that very impression. That somehow she needed something that only he could give her.

  She knew she was never going to be able to dislodge that first impression, not even if she went out and bought four hundred Chloë Angus capes. It was set in his mind. He was always going to see her as a hopelessly naive young girl. Nothing she had done today, from tripping over carpets to kissing dogs, had corrected that impression. Even the fact that she was sophisticated enough to recognize a Lalique had gone completely over his head!

  Brand Wallace was buying her cookies, entering a business arrangement with her, out of pity! Out of some misguided desire to help her.

  Suddenly she knew one way to correct his impression of her. To make him realize he didn’t know her at all. The boldness it required stole her breath. It made her realize maybe her impressions of herself also needed a bit of tweaking.

  She got up. She felt like a soldier going into battle. Her heart was beating so hard that surely he could see it hammering, right beneath the cloak. Some sort of momentum carried her across to his sofa. A granite determination overtook her as she sank into the seat beside him.

  She could hear the frantic roar of her own heart in her ears.

  She leaned closer to him, put both hands on either side of his face and drew him to her. Her heart went still. A great and surprising calm overtook her.

  His cheeks, beneath her fingertips, were ever so slightly whisker-roughened, as if she was touching sandpaper. His scent was pine and rain and man. His eyes were the deepest brown she had ever seen, and the devilment in them had been replaced by surprise. And understandable wariness.

  He was a man not accustomed to being caught off balance, and she had put him off balance. He was a man accustomed to calling the shots, and right now, in this surprising instant, she was calling the shots.

  If she dared.

  She saw it in his eyes that he knew what was coming, but was not sure she had the nerve.

  She hesitated for one moment at the edge of the cliff, terrified of the dizzying height she stood at. And then she jumped.

  And felt the exquisite and glorious freedom of freefall. She kissed him. She kissed him hard, and she kissed him passionately. She kissed him until neither of them could breathe. She kissed him until any resistance from him melted and his hands were tangled in her hair and he was kissing her back, his delicious lips nuzzling her own, exploring her own, claiming her as his own.

 
She lost the point of the exercise. Somewhere, she lost herself. Her world became so small, only this: his lips, the taste of them and the texture of them and the suppleness of them and the force of them. Her world became so large, only this: the stars in the sky, and the birds in the trees and the rivers flowing endlessly to the sea. All the mysteries were in this one small thing.

  It seemed it might go on forever. There was that word, forever, that beautiful, enticing, enigmatic word from fairy tales.

  But then the whole love seat seemed to groan, and his lips left hers.

  “Beau!”

  The dog had hefted himself up on the couch, and inserted his bulk gingerly between them. His huge tongue was flattened across the whole of Brand’s cheek, slurping upward in slow motion.

  With an impatient shove, he put the dog off the couch and wiped at his soggy cheek with the sleeve of his jacket.

  Before she could lean back in and offer her lips again, Brand leaped off the love seat. He stared down at her. He ran a hand through his hair. He paced away from her.

  “Harry Potter fans of the world, beware,” he muttered. “What the hell was that about?”

  Bree made herself sit up straight. She took a deep breath. She adjusted her cloak. She touched her hair. Her upsweep was now totally unswept.

  Still, she made her voice firm. “I am not some cute child who has showed up at your office selling cookies, like a Girl Guide going door-to-door,” she said.

  “Okay, I think you’ve made that point.”

  “And I am not the gauche girl who was so innocent you could not risk a kiss good-night after her senior prom.”

  He swore under his breath. He was looking at her way too closely. “Have you been nursing that little grievance all these years?”

  “No!”

  “I think you’re lying,” he said softly.

  “Well, you don’t know anything about me.”

  He touched his lips. “That’s true,” he conceded.

  Suddenly, she was mortified. She had just kissed Brand Wallace! What would he think she was selling? She thought of apologizing, and then she thought better of it.

 

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