Storm Conquered Page 2

  “Go away, Jake.”

  I jiggle the handle. She’s locked the damned thing. Figures. “We need to talk.”

  “No. We don’t.”

  I grit my teeth. “If you don’t open this door, I will kick it down.” When nothing happens, I count. “One ... Two . . .”

  Before I get to three, she swings the door open. “You’re fucking rude. You know that.”

  “Sticks and stones.”

  Rather than argue the point, she drops back on the bed and returns to her magazine, but she’s snapping the pages now, no longer casually perusing. Definitely pissed. Good. I mean to keep her off kilter. That’s the best way to get what I want.

  I drag my bag to her closet where her clothes are jammed in helter skelter with no order to them. With no room for my things, I wrap my arms around a few garments and carefully drape them over a chair. The page snapping behind me grows frenzied, but she doesn’t say a word.

  In orderly fashion, I arrange my clothes next to hers—pants with pants, shirts with shirts camouflage gear with camouflage. When I finish hanging them to my satisfaction, I tuck my suitcase into a corner of her closet and range my body alongside hers on the bed.

  She stops pretending to read the magazine and spits out at me. “What the blazes are you doing?”

  “Going to sleep.” I plump the pillow beneath my head and the scent of her Clive Christian perfume—peach, jasmine, orange blossom and the exotic spices which remind me of the mad, bad girl in her—rises up to meet me. My cock goes on full alert. Fuck. I grab the blanket and drape it over my groin. No sense giving her an advantage in this power play of ours.

  Her eyes shoot daggers at me. “You don’t really intend to spend the night in my bed, do you?”

  No. Not really. If I did, there’s no way I’d keep my hands off her. But she doesn’t need to know that. “If you want me to sleep on the couch, you know what to do.”

  “Tosser.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. Such language, Lady Brianna.”

  “Stop calling me that. I’m not.” Her voice takes on a somber tone, one I never heard from her before.

  I know the story. How could I not? After her brother asked me to fly to Brazil, I called Samuel Taylor, my replacement as head of security for Storm Industries, to get the lay of the land. He told me about the DNA test, the one which irrevocably proves she’s not the Countess’s daughter which makes Brianna illegitimate. My gaze roams over her. With her natural platinum blonde hair, flawless face and bright blue eyes, she epitomizes breeding and beauty. How could she possibly believe she’s not an aristocrat? “You’ll always be a lady to me.”

  Tossing the magazine aside, she flounces from the bed and opens a side cabinet which contains bed linens, grabs a couple of sheets, a blanket and heads out, presumably to make up the couch.

  While she’s gone, I cross my arms behind my head and study the space. The bedroom embodies the strange mixture that is Brianna Storm. She’s always had a bit of the wildcat in her, and her clothes reflect it. Shorts, cargo pants, skimpy tops that show off her perfect frame, as well as an assortment of knives—her weapon of choice—that hang on the wall. But she also owns beautiful designer dresses that fit her tall, slim figure, designed to strike men stupid.

  Not me, though. Never me.

  Since the day I met her eight years ago, I’ve known what she’s about. She loves to make fools out of men. Not once in the time I’ve known her has she given away her heart. Doubt she’s capable of falling in love. That’s the Storm family curse. Beautiful creatures each and every one of them, but incapable of loving. Well, except for her brother. He finally found the one woman he can’t live without.

  She storms into the bedroom, tight-lipped, narrowed eyes, arms crossed against her chest. “The couch is made up. Now go.”

  “Thank you, Lady—”

  She stomps to where I lie on the bed and slaps her hand over my mouth. A streak of lightning races through me, and I grow hard as stone. My breath hisses. I grit my teeth to keep from pulling her across my body and do what I’m aching to do.

  Her eyes go wide, and she jerks away a visibly trembling hand. Could she be as affected as I am? Doubt it. I just don’t have that effect on her. She sees me as a taskmaster, not someone with wants and needs like every other red-blooded man. After a couple of seconds, she regains her composure. “Just go, Jake. I’m tired and need my rest.”

  Well, that explains her trembling, doesn’t it? I take a deep breath, jut up my chin. Nothing to be gained by going against her wish. Not after I’ve made my point. I peel my length from her bed and wish her “Good night” before I close the door behind me. She needs her privacy, and, frankly, so do I.

  The sheet’s stretched across the sofa. Not the best job in the world, but it’ll do. Blowing out a breath, I drop into it. Uncomfortable does not begin to describe the rickety couch. Too short for me and lumpy to boot. But I’ve slept on worse. Cold terrains where I almost froze to death. Humid and hot jungles where you couldn’t breathe. This is paradise compared to those.

  I stare at the ceiling fan above my head. The place’s air conditioned, and the circling motion of the blades helps cool things down. But it’s not enough to vanquish the Brazilian heat and humidity. Exhausted as I am, I can’t sleep. That brush of her hand across my lips did things to me. In the past, I’d been careful not to touch her, knowing the repercussions if I did such a thing. Oh, we would have thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in the sack. But then when she was through with me, she would have kicked me to the curb. Because that’s what she does. The job kept me honest. The job kept me true.

  But now?

  When Storm asked me to fly to Brazil and solve the enigma that is Brianna, he’d offered a job. I refused, suspecting I’d need to violate the employment code. The one which prevents my hands from roaming over her satiny skin, tasting those sweet-as-sin lips, suckling her perfect tits. I’m here on my own dime which means there’s nothing holding me back. Except my sense of self preservation. Last thing I want is to be fodder for Brianna’s man-eating ways. So whatever I do, I’ll need to tread carefully.

  Which is going to be damn hard given what I overheard at the boteco. After Terrence and his crew stopped the fight, I hanged around to listen to the gossip. Sure enough, several of the men huddled around bottles of tequila, scotch, rum, complaining about Terrence. He has a heavy hand when it comes to handling the staff. Rather than defuse a situation as soon as trouble arises, he lets matters unfold and acts later. There’s nothing he loves more than a good fight. Problem is his way of handling this particular situation does not work because Brianna’s behavior is adding kindle to the fire.

  They’ve zeroed in on her. Of course, she’s not helping matters any with performances designed to whip every red-blooded man into a frenzy. Which I don’t understand. Why is she acting this way in the field? She used to take such pride in her work. Has she ditched all responsibility just because she’s no longer legitimate? She’s self-centered, but this is taking things too far. No. There has to be another reason why she’s acting the way she is. One which I’ll need to figure out on my own, because, sure as hell, she’s not going to share it with me.

  And then there’s the vandalism and the thefts. Problem is I’m here to handle Brianna, not the equipment robberies. But going by the talk at the bar, the two are connected somehow. An unrest runs through the Storm Industries’ camp, something that didn’t exist before when I was in charge of the Brazilian project. And I’ll need to find out pronto because she’s in dire danger of being hurt. If I don’t find out what’s going on, she’ll be found dead in some hidden part of the jungle, her life spark extinguished.

  The primitive side of me howls at the thought, and I suck in a breath. I’ll be damned if I allow that. But I’ll have to tread lightly. Not only does she resent my presence, but Terrence is bound to fight it as well. When I meet with him tomorrow, I’ll make it perfectly clear I have no interest in his job, and the only reason for my presence is to protect
Brianna.

  Out of the two, the equipment theft and vandalism will be easier to deal with since it’s only a matter of tightening up security. But Brianna? She’s her own worst enemy. She never took kindly to my handling her, but I always managed to keep her from hurting herself. This time around it might be more challenging, but the end game’s still the same. I still have to stop her from getting hurt. That’s the job, isn’t it? The one I signed up for? Problem is this time around it might cost me more than I’m willing to pay.

  Chapter 3

  ______________

  Brianna

  BY THE TIME I WAKE UP, he’s gone. Hurray. Don’t need to see that censuring light in his eyes weighing me, measuring me. Like he’s always done. He tucked away his suitcase after stashing his clothes military style in my closet, pants and shorts to the right, shirts to the left. He even took time to color match them.

  I grab his shorts and shirts and stuff them in my dresser. Shirts don’t need to be hanged, not in this climate. Everything wrinkles the minute you throw it on. The dresses he tossed on the chair, the ones I reserve for those nights I travel to Natal and hook up with someone for the weekend? Those I return to the closet. Done rearranging things to my satisfaction, I brew a pot of coffee before heading out for the day. I’m rinsing the cup in the sink when a knock sounds on the door. I open it to find Rosa on the other side. It’s her twice-monthly visit to clean up the place.

  “Morning, Rosa. Come in.” She’s a darling. About one and a half meters tall, rotund, with a happy smile on her face.

  “Bom Dia, Ms. Storm.” As soon as she steps in and glances around the living room, her brow wrinkles. “Something’s different.” The couch is made, and the sheets are nowhere in evidence. But Jake’s duffel bag sits in the center of the space.

  “Yes.” I clear my throat. Time to start this charade. “I have someone staying with me. His name’s Jake. Jake Cooper. You’ll be seeing him around.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t been here when Jake headed up security several months ago. Her daughter had given birth, and she’d moved in with her to help with the newborn. She tries to lift Jake’s duffel probably to store it in the hall closet.

  I stop her before she hurts herself. “Please don’t worry about it. Jake will stash that away himself.” It’s no wonder he travels with a full complement of weapons. As do I. In this part of the world just about anything can kill you. If not a man then some benighted creature that crawls out of a lagoon. Even the mosquitoes are deadly. They carry the dengue fever virus and have been known to kill thousands if their population is not controlled.

  Leaving her to her duties, I head out to the dining hall where three times a day the staff gathers for meals. But when I step into the porch, I pause to take in the view and breathe in the breeze. The spot chosen by the Brazilian government as the best place to install wind turbine engines juts out into the Atlantic in a curve of rocks and sand to kiss ocean blue water. The bungalow, erected thirty or so meters from the shore, boasts a glorious glimpse of the beach. Not that I’ve enjoyed it much lately. Too busy causing mayhem to appreciate the landscape.

  At the cafeteria, I grab my usual breakfast fare and head for an empty table. Other than the occasional manager who might exchange a greeting or two, I’m usually left to myself while I eat. Seeing how I’m the one in charge of the entire project, it’s not hard to see why. This morning, however, Marina Pinho drops her food tray across from me and parks herself at my table.

  “Good morning, Brianna.” Everybody else calls me Ms. Storm. Not her. She’s always resented me. When Jake was in charge of security she did everything but stand on her head to get him interested in her, but he never so much as breathed in her direction. She thought I was keeping him from hooking up with her. If she only knew. I’m just a thorn on his side. A responsibility and an unwelcome one at that.

  “Good morning, Marina.” Tit for tat, I always say.

  Jake hired her to handle paperwork in the security office. But when Terrence took over, he needed someone to translate since he did not speak Portuguese. So he promoted her to office manager. The change in circumstances has gone to her head. She now struts around the project like she’s upper management, which she’s not. Unfortunately, since Terrence needs her, he refuses to reel her in.

  “So. Jake’s back.” She stirs the scrambled eggs on her plate.

  I bite into a mango slice, and juice drips down my chin. I dab at it with a napkin before I answer her. “Yes.”

  “And he’s moved in with you.”

  I take my time spreading butter and jam over an English muffin. “Right again.”

  She smirks. “So you’re lovers now?” She doesn’t believe it for a second. Can’t blame her. Other than what the job required of him, Jake never once showed the slightest interest in me. But I’m not about to clue her in on the situation.

  I glance askance at her. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”

  “Why not? It’s just us girls.”

  Yeah, like she wouldn’t spread the gossip far and wide, never mind the number of people around us eavesdropping on our every word.

  A heavy step sounds behind me, and the air shifts. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

  Jake straddles the bench next to me, drops an arm across my shoulder and pulls me into him. “You didn’t wait for me.” That’s the only warning I get before his mouth descends on me.

  The kiss is hard and quick, but it’s enough to make everything in me go liquid. I draw on every ounce of willpower to stop me from asking for more. “I was hungry.”

  His hand sweeps across my chin, wiping the residue of the mango juice. He sucks his thumb, and my pussy tightens. What would that ravenous mouth feel like licking my clit, sucking my juices?

  “Were you?” Has his voice gone huskier or is it just my imagination?

  I’m so attuned to him and what he’s doing, I barely register Marina leaving in a huff. I don’t dare struggle against him. Not if I want everyone to believe we’re lovers. Not that that’s a problem. If anything I want more of what he’s dishing out. He smells of that aftershave he uses, the spicy one that drives me batty. Before I fall in too deep, I remind myself this is nothing but a ruse. It’s worked too. Every eye in the place is glued to us which is why he claimed me so publicly. Fine. I’ll play along, but only as much as I need to. “You’ve made your point,” I whisper into his mouth. “Now let go.”

  “Whatever you say, bright eyes.” He eases his hold on me and leans back. “I’m off to see Terrence. Hamish—” he nods toward my left— “will watch over you while I do. Try to behave, will you?”

  “Tosser,” I say low enough for only him to hear.

  A spark flashes in his eyes before his mouth captures mine. He sinks deep, tilting my head with that big hand of his to just where he wants me. Rather than hurry, he takes his time, suckling me, licking the upper lip, nipping the bottom one. Holy fuck, the man can kiss. But I have to put a stop to this. We never agreed to such thorough manhandling.

  Before I have a chance to protest, though, he releases me. To add insult to injury, he steals a rasher of bacon from my plate before wandering off. Some misguided female nearby sighs. Probably got her panties soaked from that kiss. Just like mine. Damn his soul.

  Chapter 4

  ______________

  Jake

  WHEN I’D BEEN IN CHARGE OF SECURITY IN BRAZIL, I swam daily during the early dawn when I watched the sun crest over the horizon and light up the world. Few sights I’ve seen are as beautiful as this perfect confluence of rock, water and sand. So this morning, after checking in with Hamish who was back to watching over Brianna at his usual spot on the porch, I’d gone for a two-mile swim and a five-mile jog up the trail that leads from the beach to the hills beyond. After a quick shower at the gym, I slipped into the cargo pants and shirt I carried in my backpack and headed to the dining hall, hoping to run into Brianna there and put into motion the plan I’d devised.

&
nbsp; For once, fortune was on my side. She’d been there. So I’d dropped next to her on the bench and kissed her. My very public claim on her had gone off without a hitch. She hadn’t rebuffed me, and everyone present definitely took note of it. Soon, word will spread about my change in status. I’m not only her protector, but her lover as well. Some of the men will clearly understand the ‘Keep Off’ sign I’d just planted on her. But others will refuse to take the hint and will require more stringent methods of persuasion. Fine with me. I’ll do whatever is necessary to get the message across. She’s off limits to everyone but me.

  Unfortunately, that kiss did things to me. Things I hadn’t counted on. I’d wanted more than a taste of her lips, of that mango juice, of her. A lot more. I’d wanted to crush the fruit over her body and lick the juices, nibble and suckle on her. Fill my hands with her luscious breasts and savor those as well. When my cock had gone on full alert, I’d known it was time to leave. So after one more kiss, I’d propped the knapsack as camouflage for my hard on, grabbed a power bar and a couple of milk cartons and headed out to meet with Terrence Budd, the head of security.

  On my way I run into Todd Lawson, one of the security operatives I’d hired for the Brazilian operation.

  “Jake! What are you doing here?”

  Brianna’s brother didn’t give me any direction other than to get whatever’s wrong fixed. But the official reason is I’m here as her bodyguard. So that’s the tack I take. “Storm asked me here to watch over his sister.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  He blows out a breath. “That’s too bad. Don’t know if you’ve heard, but things are pretty bad around here. Brianna Storm doesn’t have her handle on things the way she used to. She seems more interested in—” He coughs. Yeah, he pretty much doesn’t want to finish that particular sentence.

  Needing his take on things, though, I complete his train of thought. “I caught her performance last night.”