LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

“You’re going to make me blush.”

      Zara laughed. “I highly doubt you blush, let alone over a woman looking at you.” Because why deny the fact she had been? She’d been caught, but she didn’t care. The man was worth a good, long stare. “Good night, Braden.”

      * * *

      Her damn floral scent mocked him as he lay on top of her plush comforter. With his hands laced behind his head, Braden stared up at the ceiling watching the orange flickering glow from the candle. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. Besides the fact he had every intention of getting back up to check out the house after Zara had gone to sleep, how the hell could he actually rest when the object of his desire was lying only feet away?

      He hadn’t expected to actually want her with such a passion and fierceness. Damn it. He knew he’d been attracted, but he’d passed being attracted long ago. Now he had a need so deeply embedded within him, he was going to go mad if he didn’t have her.

      Zara had been knockout gorgeous in that black dress and those sexy heels earlier at his party. But seeing her in such a simple, natural way, with hair up and sweats on, had Braden questioning why the hell he wasn’t coercing her into this giant bed. He could have her clothes off in record time, despite what she’d said about mixing business and pleasure. The allure was there—the chemistry was hot enough to scorch them.

      But he had a mission. One that couldn’t be forgotten just because he’d been sidetracked by this unexpected quest for Zara. He needed to focus. Sex was one thing, a marvelous thing actually, but she’d put up a defensive wall. He was alone in the house he’d been wanting in for quite some time. So why the hell was he lying here focused on what was denied to him instead of formulating a plan of where he’d search once she was fully asleep?

      Braden suppressed a groan as he rolled to his side. He needed to start this process, so he could be ready to get the hell out when the roads cleared.

      The scrolls had to be in this house. They had to be; he refused to believe any different. But at the same time, he had to be realistic. His family had lost this house and everything in it during the Great Depression—a little fact Zara most likely didn’t know.

      In the decades that had passed, who’s to say someone hadn’t found the scrolls, moved them to another location and kept the secret to themselves?

      A gnawing pit formed in his stomach. What if someone had found them and thought they were trash?

      No, the scrolls were supposedly rolled up in small tubes. Nine different tubes for the nine works. They were somewhere, and Braden wasn’t going to leave this house until he’d searched every inch of it.

      He thought of the built-in bookcases in the living room he’d spotted earlier when he’d ran his phone light over the room. He’d tried to be casual about it, no reason to raise a red flag with Zara, because, as of right now, she was totally unsuspecting and completely worried about being alone with him.

      Since she’d walked into his office for the job, he knew he wanted her in his bed. No reason he couldn’t enjoy a little recreational activity and search at the same time. Besides, getting Zara to open up to him may be the angle they’d needed all along, even if Ryker just wanted to break in and be done with it.

      No way in hell was Ryker getting close to Zara. He was mysterious at best, terrifying at worst. And women loved that mysterious side. He had no intention of Zara being one of those women. Zara was all Braden’s...for now.

      Braden knew full well what Ryker did for the family. Ever since Ryker had come to be friends with Braden and Mac in grade school, their father had taken Ryker in as another son. By the time they were out of high school, Ryker was just another member of the family. The Black Sheep was too benign a term when referring to the man who did all the dirty work.

      Braden stared across to Zara and realized she was looking right back at him. This was ridiculous. They were adults acting like horny teens trying to get a mental feel for what the other one was thinking.

      “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he told her. “Do you need your bed back?”

      The image of Zara in her bed wasn’t new. He didn’t need to say the words aloud to conjure up a vivid image. He’d already had her in bed several times in his mind.

      “I can’t sleep.”

      He knew a cure for insomnia.

      “It’s too quiet,” she continued. “I usually sleep with a fan because I can’t handle the silence at night.”

      Interesting. Braden bent his elbow and rested his head on his palm. “Are you afraid to stay here alone?”

      “Not really. It’s just my old place was so much smaller, and this house has always had that creepy factor, you know? It’s old, it creaks and groans. Then there’s the rumor it’s haunted.” She laughed. “I guess when I’m alone with my thoughts, I let my imagination run wild.”

      “It’s not unusual for these old homes to have some ghost story. They’re either based off some truth people believe, or they make for a good resale value for those seeking adventure.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m not up for an adventure and I don’t believe in ghosts.”

      Braden found he liked hearing her talk. He liked how soft her voice was, how it carried through the darkness and hit him straight with a shot of arousal. So he wanted to keep her talking.

      “Since we both can’t sleep, why don’t you tell me the ghost story?”

      He saw her lick her lips as she clutched the blanket near her chest. Thanks to the dim lighting, Braden found her even more alluring. Sleep wasn’t even a priority.

      “It’s silly, actually. Apparently there was a young couple in love, and supposedly the man went off to the army and never returned. There are stories he died in the war, stories he fell in love with another. Who knows? She went on to marry, but the rumor is you can still hear her crying.”

      Braden knew that story all too well. Considering this house had been in his family at the time Zara was referring to. And the woman was his great-great...several greats, grandmother. He’d always heard the story that the man who went to the army was actually her husband and he’d been killed. She’d remarried, had children but, supposedly, never got over her first love. A tragic story, a romantic one for those who were into that sort of thing...and his Irish family most definitely was.

      “But, if I ever hear a woman crying in this house, it will take me one giant leap to get out of here,” Zara went on with a light laugh. “An intruder I can handle. A ghost, not so much. At least a real person I can shoot.”

      The more she talked, the more Braden found he didn’t like her in this big house alone. But, if she had a firearm, at least she could defend herself.

      What if Shane showed up? The man obviously called her drunk, and, on a good night with clear roads, what would stop him from just coming over, forcing his way in? And now that she worked for Braden, Shane would see that as a betrayal. The man was that egotistical and warped.

      “But I’m not sure a woman would be crying over a man if she was married to another,” Zara went on as she shifted beneath her covers. “I mean, I can’t imagine loving one man, let alone falling in love twice. Or maybe she’d just married the second guy so she wasn’t lonely. I’ll never be that desperate.”

      Braden thought to his parents. They’d been in love, they’d raised a family and they’d had a bond that Braden wanted to have someday. His mother passed when Braden had been a pre-teen, and the car accident that claimed her had an impact on the entire family. They became stronger, more unified than before because they realized just how short life was.

      Not now, but one day he’d have a family of his own. First, though, he’d have those scrolls back in his family’s possession and steer his family right. He refused to bring a family into his life when there were enemies, people who used loved ones as a weakness to exploit.

      “You’ve

Скачать книгу