The Beaumont Brothers
He didn’t just want to have sex.
He wanted to have Serena.
Double damn.
He threw himself into his shower without bothering to touch the hot water knob. The cold did little to shock him back to his senses, but at least it knocked his erection down to a somewhat manageable level.
This was beyond lust. He had a need to take care of her—to not fail her. That was why he’d bought her nice things, right? Sure. He was just rewarding her loyalty.
She’d said that her ex hadn’t responded to her email. There—that was something he could do. He could get that jerk to step up to the plate and at least acknowledge that he’d left Serena in a difficult situation. Yeah, he liked that idea—making Neil Moore toe the line was a perfectly acceptable way of looking out for his best employee, and it didn’t involve kissing her. He doubted that Serena would hold Neil responsible for his legal obligations—but Chadwick had no problem putting that man’s feet to the fire.
He shut the water off and grabbed his towel. He was pretty sure he had Neil’s information in his phone. But where had he left it?
He rummaged in his pants pocket for a few minutes before he remembered he’d set it down on his desk when he came in.
He opened the door and walked into his office—and found himself face-to-face with Serena.
“Chadwick!” she gasped. “What are you—”
“Serena!” It was then that he remembered the only thing he had on was a towel. He hadn’t even managed to dry off.
Her mouth was frozen in a totally kissable “oh,” her eyes wide as her gaze traveled down his wet chest.
Desire pumped through him, hard. All he’d have to do would be to drop the towel and show her exactly what she did to him. Hell, at the rate he was going, he wouldn’t even have to drop the towel. She wasn’t blind and his body wasn’t being subtle right now.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t realize....”
“Just checking my phone.” Just thinking about you. He glanced at his clock. She was at least an hour ahead of schedule. “You’re early.”
“I wanted...I mean, about last night...” She seemed to be trying to get herself back under control, but her gaze kept drifting down. “About the kiss...” A furious blush made her look innocent and naughty at the same time.
He took a step forward, all of his best intentions blown to hell by the look on her face. The same look she’d had the night before when he’d kissed her. She wanted him.
God, that made him feel good.
“What about the kiss?”
Finally, she dropped her gaze from his body to the floor. “It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was unprofessional and I apologize.” She rushed through the words in one breath, sounding like she’d spent at least half the night rehearsing that little speech. “It won’t happen again.”
Wait—what? Was she taking all the blame for that? No. It’s not like she’d shoved him against the wall and groped him. He was the one who’d pulled her into his arms. He was the one who’d lifted her chin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought I was the one who kissed you.”
“Yes, well, it was still unprofessional, and it shouldn’t have happened while I was on the job.”
For a second, Chadwick knew he’d screwed up. She was serious. He’d be lucky if she didn’t file suit against him.
But then she lifted her head, her bottom lip tucked under her teeth as she peeked at his bare torso. There was no uncertainty in her eyes—just the same desire that was pumping through his veins.
Then he realized what she’d said—while she was on the job.
Would she be “on the job” on Saturday night? Or off the clock?
“Of course,” he agreed. Because, even though she was looking at him like that and he was wearing nothing more than a towel, he was not his father. He could be a reasonable, rational man. Not one solely driven by his baser needs. He could rein in his desires.
Sort of.
“What time shall I pick you up for dinner on Saturday?”
Her lower lip still held captive by her teeth—God, what would it feel like if she bit his lip like that?—he thought he saw her smile. Just a little bit. “The gala starts at nine. We should arrive by nine-twenty. We don’t want to be unfashionably late.”
He’d take her to the Palace Arms. It would be the perfect accompaniment to the gala—a setting befitting Serena in a gown. “Ms. Chase,” he said, trying to use his normal business voice. It was harder to do in a towel than he would have expected. “Please make dinner reservations for two at the Palace Arms for seven. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
Her eyes went wide again—like they had the day before when he’d informed her he was sending her to Neiman’s to get a dress. Like they had when he’d impulsively ordered all three dresses. Why was she so afraid of him spending his money as he saw fit? “But that’s...”
“That’s what I want,” he replied.
And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he let the towel slip. Just a little—not enough to flash her—but more than enough to make her notice.
And respond. No, she didn’t like it when he flashed his wealth around—but his body? His body appeared to be a different matter entirely. Her mouth dropped open into that “oh” again and then—God help him—her tongue flicked out and traced over her lips. He had to bite down to keep the groan from escaping.
“I’ll...I’ll go make those reservations, Mr. Beaumont,” she said breathlessly.
He couldn’t have kept the grin off his face if he tried. “Please do.”
Oh, yeah, he was going to take her out to dinner and she was going to wear one of those gowns and he would...
He would enjoy her company, he reminded himself. He did not expect anything other than that. This was not a quid pro quo situation where he bought her things and expected her to fall into bed out of obligation. Sex was not the same as a thank-you note.
Then she held up a small envelope. “A thank-you note. For the dresses.”
He almost burst out laughing, but he didn’t. He was too busy watching Serena. She took two steps toward the desk and laid the envelope on the top. She was close enough that, if he reached out, he could pull her back into his arms again, right where she’d been the night before.
Except he’d have to let go of the towel.
When had restraint gotten this hard? When had he suddenly had trouble controlling his urges? Hell, when was the last time he’d had an urge he had to control?
Years, really. Long, dry years in a loveless marriage while he ran a company. But Serena woke up something inside of him—and now that it was awake, Chadwick felt it making him wild and impulsive.
The tension in the room was so thick it was practically visible.
“Thank you, Ms. Chase.” He was trying to hide behind last names, like he’d done for years, but it wasn’t working. All his mouth could taste was her kiss.
“You have Larry coming in for his morning meeting.” She didn’t step back, but he saw the side-eye she was giving him. “Shall I reschedule him or do you think you can be dressed by then?”
This time, he didn’t bother to hold back his chuckle. “I suppose I can be dressed by then. Send him in when he gets here.”
She gave a curt nod with her head and, with one more glance at his bare chest, turned to leave.
He couldn’t help himself. “Serena?”
She paused at the door, but she didn’t look back. “Yes?”
“I...” He snapped off the part about how he wanted her. Even if it was the truth. “I’m looking forward to Saturday.”
She glanced back over her shoulder and gave him the same kind of smile she’d had when she’d been twirling in the gowns for him—warm, nervous and excited all at once. “Me, too.”
Then she left him alone in his office. Which was absolutely the correct thing to have done.
Saturday sure seemed like a hell of a long time off.
He hoped he could make it.
* * *
Serena made sure to knock for the rest of the week.
Not that she didn’t want to see Chadwick’s bare chest, the light hairs that covered his body glistening with water, his hair damp and tousled....
And certainly not because she’d been fantasizing about Chadwick walking in on her in the shower, leaning her back against the tiled wall, kissing her like he’d kissed her in the store, those kisses going lower and lower until she was blind with pleasure, then her returning the favor....
Right. She knocked extra hard on his door because it was the polite thing to do.
Thursday was busy. The fallout from the board meeting had to be dealt with, and the last-minute plans for the gala could not be ignored. Once Chadwick got his clothes on, she hardly had more than two minutes alone with him before the next meeting, the next phone call.
Friday was the same. They were in the office until almost seven, soothing the jittery nerves of employees worried about their jobs and investors worried about not getting a big enough payout.
She still hadn’t heard from Neil. She did manage to get a doctor’s appointment scheduled, but it wasn’t for another two weeks. If she hadn’t heard anything after that, she’d have to call him. That was all.
But she didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she thought about Saturday night.
She was not going to fall into bed with Chadwick. Above and beyond the fact that he was still her boss for the foreseeable future, there were too many problems. She was pregnant, for starters. She was still getting over the end of a nine-year relationship with Neil—and Chadwick wasn’t divorced quite yet. She didn’t want whatever was going on with her and Chadwick to smack of a rebound for either of them.
That settled it. If, perhaps in the near future—a future in which Serena was not pregnant, Chadwick was successfully divorced and Serena no longer worked for him because the company had been sold—then she could be brazen and call him up to invite him over. Then she could seduce him. Maybe in the shower. Definitely near a bed.
But not until then. Really.
So this was just a business-related event. Sure, an extra fancy one, but nothing else had changed.
Except for that kiss. That towel.
Those fantasies.
She was in so much trouble.
Seven
Her hair fixed into a sleek twist, Serena stood in her bedroom in her bathrobe and stared at the gowns like they were menacing her. All three were hung on her closet door.
With the price tags still on them.
Somehow, she’d managed to avoid looking at the tags in the store. The fabulous Mario had probably been working overtime to keep them hidden from her.
She had tens of thousands of dollars worth of gowns. Hanging in her house. Not counting the “necessary accessories.”
The one she wanted to wear—the one-shoulder, cornflower blue dress that paired well with the long, dangly earrings? That one, on sale, cost as much as a used car. On sale! And the earrings? Sapphires. Of course.
I can’t do this, she decided. This was not her world and she did not belong. Why Chadwick insisted on dressing her up and parading her around was beyond her.
She’d return the dresses and go back to being frugal Serena Chase, loyal assistant. That was the only rational thing to do.
Then her phone buzzed. For a horrifying second, she was afraid it was Neil, afraid that he’d come to his senses and wanted to talk. Wanted to see her again. Wanted frugal, loyal Serena back.
Just because she was trying not to fall head over heels for Chadwick didn’t mean she wanted Neil.
She picked up her phone—it was a text from Chadwick.
On my way. Can’t wait to see you.
Her heart began to race. Would he wear a suit like he usually did? Would he look stiff and formal or...would he be relaxed? Would he look at her with that gleam in his eye—the one that made her think of things like towels and showers and hot, forbidden kisses?
She should return these things. All of them.
She slipped the blue dress off the hanger, letting the fabric slide between her fingers. On the other hand...what would one night hurt? Hadn’t she always dreamed about living it up? Wasn’t that why she’d always gone to the galas before? It was a glimpse into a world that she longed to be a part of—a world where no one went hungry or wore cast-off clothing or moved in the middle of the night because they couldn’t make rent?
Wasn’t Chadwick giving her exactly what she wanted?
Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Just for the night?
Fine, she decided, slipping into the dress. One night. One single night where she wasn’t Serena Chase, hardworking employee always running away from poverty. For one glorious evening, she would be Serena Chase, queen amongst women. She would be escorted by a man who wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her—a man who made her feel beautiful.
If she ever saw the fabulous Mario again, she was going to hug that man.
She dressed carefully. She felt like she was going too slowly, but she wasn’t about to rush and accidentally pop a seam on such an expensive dress. She decided to go with a bolder eye, so she spent more time putting on eyeliner and mascara than she had in the last month.
She’d barely gotten her understated lipstick into the tiny purse that Mario had put with this dress—even though it was a golden yellow—when she heard the knock on the door. “One moment!” she yelled, as she grabbed the yellow heels that had arrived with everything else.
Then she took a moment to breathe. She looked good. She felt good. She was going to enjoy tonight or else. Tomorrow she could go back to being pregnant and frugal and all those other things.
Not tonight. Tonight was hers. Hers and Chadwick’s.
She opened the door and felt her jaw drop.
He’d chosen a tux. And a dozen red roses.
“Oh,” she managed to get out. The tux was exquisitely cut—probably custom-made.
He looked over the top of the roses. “I was hoping you’d pick that one. I brought these for you.” He held the flowers out to her and she saw he had a matching rose boutonnière in his lapel.
She took the roses as he leaned forward. “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear.
Then he kissed her cheek. One hand slid behind her back, gripping her just above her hip. “Simply amazing,” he repeated, and she felt the heat from his body warm hers from the inside out.
They didn’t have to go anywhere. She could pull him inside and they could spend the night wrapped around each other. It would be perfectly fine because they weren’t at work. As long as they weren’t in the office, they could do whatever they wanted.
And he was what she wanted to do.
No. No! She could not let him seduce her. She could not let herself be seduced. At least, not that easily. This was a business-related event. They were still on the clock.
Then he kissed her again, just below the dangly earring, and she knew she was in trouble. She had to do something. Anything.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. Immediately her face flushed hot. And not the good kind of hot, either. But that was exactly what she’d needed to do to slam on the brakes. Pregnant women were simply not amazing. Her body was crazy and her hormones were crazier and that had to be the only reason she was lusting after her boss this much.
Thank heavens, Chadwick pulled back. But he didn’t pull away, damn him. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “In all these years, Serena, I’ve never seen you more radiant. You’ve always been so pretty, but now...pregnant or not, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She wanted to tell him he was full of it—not only was she not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she didn’t crack the top one hundred in Denver. She was plain and curvy and wore suits. Nothing beautiful about that.
But he slipped his hand over her hip and down her belly, his hand rubbing small circles just above the top of her panties. “This,” he said, his voice low and serious and intent as his fingers spread out to cover her stomach, “just makes you better. I can’t control myself around you anymore and I don’t think I want to.” As he said it, his hand circled lower. The tips of his fingers crossed over the demarcated line of her panties and dipped down.
The warmth from his touch focused heat in her belly—and lower. A weight—heavy and demanding and pulsing—pounded between her thighs. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep going until he was pressing against the part of her that was heaviest. To feel his touch explore her body. To make her his.
If she didn’t know him, she’d say he was feeding her a line of bull a mile long. But Chadwick didn’t BS people. He didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. He told them the truth.
He told her the truth.
Which only left one question.
Now that she knew the truth, what would she do with it?
* * *
The absolute last place Chadwick wanted to be was at this restaurant. The only possible exception to that statement was the gala later. He didn’t want to be at either one. He wanted to go back to Serena’s place—hell, this restaurant was in a hotel, he could have a room in less than twenty minutes—and get her out of that dress. He wanted to lay her down and show her exactly how little he could control himself around her.
Instead, he was sitting across from Serena in one of the best restaurants in all of Denver. Since they’d left her apartment, Serena had been...quiet. He’d expected her to push back against dinner like she’d pushed back against the gown that looked so good on her, but she hadn’t. Which was not a bad thing—she’d been gracious and perfectly well-mannered, as he knew she would be—but he didn’t know what to talk about. Discussing work was both boring and stressful. Even though this was supposed to be a business dinner, he didn’t want to talk about losing the company.
Given how she’d reacted to him touching her stomach—soft and gently rounded beneath the flowing dress—he didn’t think making small talk about her pregnancy was exactly the way to go, either. That wasn’t making her feel beautiful. At least, he didn’t think so. He was pretty sure if they talked about her pregnancy, they’d wind up talking about Neil, and he didn’t want to think about that jerk. Not tonight.
Chadwick’s divorce was out, too. Chadwick knew talking about exes and soon-to-be-exes at dinner simply wasn’t done.
And there was the part where he’d basically professed how he felt about her. Kind of hard to do the chitchat thing after that. Because doing the chitchat thing seemed like it would minimize what he’d said.
He didn’t want to do that.
But he didn’t know what else to talk about. For one of the few times in his life, he wished his brother Phillip was there. Well, he didn’t—Phillip would hit on Serena mercilessly, not because he had feelings for her but because she was female. He didn’t want Phillip anywhere near Serena.
Still, Phillip was good at filling the silence. He had an endless supply of interesting stories about interesting celebrities he’d met at parties and clubs. If anyone could find something to talk about, it’d be his brother.
But that wasn’t Chadwick’s life. He didn’t jet around making headlines. He worked. He went to the office, ran, showered, worked, worked some more and then went home. Even on the weekends, he usually logged in. Running a corporation took most of his time—he probably worked a hundred hours a week.
But that’s what it took to run a major corporation. For so long, he’d done what was expected of him—what his father had expected of him. The only thing that mattered was the company.
Chadwick looked at Serena. She was sitting across from him, her hands in her lap, her eyes wide as she looked around the room. This level of luxury was normal for him—but it was fun seeing things through her eyes.
It was fun being with her. She made him want to think about something other than work—and given the situation, he was grateful for that alone. But what he felt went way beyond simple gratitude.
For the first time in his adult life—maybe longer—he was looking at someone who meant more to him than the brewery did.
That realization scared the hell out of him. Because, really—who was he if he wasn’t Chadwick Beaumont, the fourth-generation Beaumont to run the brewery? That was who he’d been raised to be. Just like his father had wanted, Chadwick had always put the brewery first.
But now...things were changing. He didn’t know how much longer he’d have the brewery. Even if they fended off this takeover, there might be another. The company’s position had been weakened.
Funny, though—he felt stronger after this week with Serena.
Still, he had to say something. He hadn’t asked her to dinner just to stare at her. “Are you doing all right?”
“Fine,” she answered, breathlessly. She did look fine. Her eyes were bright and she had a small, slightly stunned smile on her face. “This place is just so...fancy! I’m afraid I’m going to use the wrong fork.”
He felt himself relax a bit. Even though she looked like a million dollars, she was still the same Serena.
His.
No. He pushed that thought away as soon as it cropped up. She was not his—she was only his assistant. That was the extent of his claim to her. “Your parents never dressed you up and took you out to eat at a place like this just for fun?”
“Ah, no.” A furious blush raced up her cheeks.
“Really? Not even for a special event?”
That happened a lot. He’d be eating some place nice—some place like this—and a family with kids who had no business being in a five-star restaurant would come in, the boys yanking on the necks of their ties and tipping over the drinks, the girls being extra fussy over the food. He’d sort of assumed that all middle-class people did something like that once or twice.
She looked up at him, defiance flashing in her eyes. The same defiance that had her refusing dresses. He liked it on her—liked that she didn’t always bow and scrape to him just because he was Chadwick Beaumont.
“Did your parents ever put you in rags and take you to a food pantry just for fun?”
“What?”
“Because that’s where we went ‘out to eat.’ The food pantry.” As quickly as it had come, the defiance faded, leaving her looking embarrassed. She studied her silverware setting. “Sorry. I don’t usually tell people that. Forget I said anything.”
He stared at her, his mouth open. Had she really just said...the food pantry? She’d mentioned that her family had gone through a few financial troubles but—
“You picked the food bank for this year’s charity.”
“Yes.” She continued to inspect the flatware, everything about her closed off.
This wasn’t the smooth, flowing conversation he’d wanted. But this felt more important. “Tell me about it.”
“Not much to tell.” Her chin got even lower. “Poverty is not a bowl full of cherries.”
“What happened to your parents?” Not that his parents had particularly loved him—or even liked him—but he’d never wanted for anything. He couldn’t imagine how parents could let that happen to their child.
“Nothing. It’s just that...Joe and Shelia Chase did everything to a fault. They still do. They’re loyal to a fault, forgiving to a fault—generous to a fault. If you need twenty bucks, they’ll give you the last twenty they have in the bank and then not have enough to buy dinner or get the bus home. My dad’s a janitor.”
At this, a flush of embarrassment crept over her. But it didn’t stop her. “He’ll give you the shirt off his back—not that you’d want it, but he would. He’s the guy who always stops when he sees someone on the side of the road with a flat tire, and helps the person change it. But he gets taken by every stupid swindle, every scam. Mom’s not much better. She’s been a waitress for decades. Never tried to get a better job because she was so loyal to the diner owners. They hired her when she was fifteen. Whenever Dad got fired, we lived on her tips. Which turns out to not be enough for a family of three.”