Reserved for the Tycoon Read online

  “Just a manual one in that drawer behind you.”

  Vanessa found the juicer and began twisting cut oranges onto the cone-shaped device.

  “So how did the class go?”

  “You mean after I told the disappointed guests that you were out sick? I guess it went okay. Not too many grumbles,” Vanessa said, smiling while pressing half an orange down, squeezing out every last ounce of juice. “I didn’t expect the big boss to show up.”

  “Mr. Tyler was there?” Lucy’s expression brightened.

  “Yep. He watched me through the class, probably making sure I didn’t scare any guests away.”

  “He’s dedicated to the hotel,” Lucy said, dreamy-eyed. “He’s got some sort of competition going with his brother. He told the staff about it when we all hired on. Big bonuses for all of us if the hotel does well.”

  Vanessa couldn’t conceal a frown. “Is that so?”

  He’d brought devastation to Melody without blinking an eye, walking out on her when she’d needed him the most. He’d abandoned her for another woman and now Vanessa couldn’t wait to work on her plan to screw up the beloved Tempest Maui.

  To think he’d almost kissed her today. And she’d almost allowed it to happen. She’d been drawn to those dark, promising eyes, and that killer smile could do a weaker woman in. He was attracted to her and she decided that it could only work to her advantage.

  Maybe next time, she would allow him to kiss her.

  “Yeah, he’s been a good boss so far. He’s given me free rein to run the gym the way I see fit and I appreciate his confidence in me. I think every female employee from sixteen to sixty has a major crush on him.”

  Vanessa’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

  Lucy bit her lip guiltily and nodded. So Lucy could be included in with the smitten females.

  “Really,” she confessed. “Aren’t you slightly attracted to him?”

  “Me?” Vanessa’s voice elevated so much, she coughed to hide her scorn. “I hardly know him.”

  “You’ve just been here a short while. Give it time. You’ll see.”

  “I hope not,” she whispered softly.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Your juice is ready,” she said, pouring her a nice tall glass. “Drink up.” She handed Lucy the glass and then turned to the range and stirred the soup. “I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

  Two

  T wo days later, Vanessa tied the laces on her running shoes, did a few warm-up stretches on the sand and began jogging along the coast of Tranquility Bay. Early breezes cooled the air considerably and made her morning jog all the more pleasurable. She waved at guests she recognized on the beach, early birds like herself, who enjoyed the sunrise and came out for a walk or to sit quietly on the beach before the day erupted. She recognized a few she knew were here for the wedding taking place on Saturday afternoon and fought the guilt she felt over causing them any discomfort. This was the bride’s third marriage and the groom’s fourth, millionaires who had nothing better to spend their money on than an elaborate party for themselves, she rationalized.

  Vanessa jogged to the south tip of the bay where a parking lot of boats were moored in the marina and seagulls squawked out of unison while perched atop buoys. Stunning blue-green waters shimmered, in great contrast with her hometown’s mighty muddy waterway, the Mississippi River.

  “Vanessa?” Brock’s voice broke through her thoughts and she nearly stumbled when she caught sight of him in blue jeans and a white T-shirt, walking down the long wood dock, heading straight for her.

  She halted, but jogged in place, waiting for him to come down the steps to join her on the path. She wished he didn’t look so darn appealing—tanned and healthy, even without his millionaire attire on. “Hello.” She stopped, trying not to ogle his perfect biceps.

  “Good morning. Enjoying your jog?”

  She was, up until a minute ago. “Yes, it’s a habit of mine.”

  “Running?”

  “It clears my head. Gets me ready for work.” She’d run in half marathons for most of her adult life, she didn’t add. “What brings you here?” she asked, being polite since conversation seemed to be on his mind this morning.

  “I’m checking out Rebecca.”

  Rebecca? Of course, another woman. He probably had one in every port. What could she say to that? “Well, I’d better be on my way.”

  “Rebecca’s my boat,” he said with a sly grin. “I named her after my mother.” He pointed to the impressive yacht in the farthest slip in the marina. “She’s been under repair.”

  Her heart melted into a puddle of warmth. His uncharacteristic gesture touched her in an elemental way. “I’m sorry to hear you lost your mother.”

  Brock tossed his head back and chuckled. “My mother’s very much alive. Probably going to get married again soon. But I appreciate your kindness.”

  Vanessa blinked away her puzzlement, then felt foolish for her assumption. The man twisted her into knots. She needed an easy escape. “I’ve got a lot of details to go over for the Everett wedding, I’d better head back now.”

  “Just a sec,” he said, taking her wrist gently. “Come see the boat,” he said. “I could use your opinion about something.”

  “My opinion?” Vanessa nearly gasped. “I don’t know a thing about boats.”

  “You’re a woman. You’ll have an opinion, believe me.”

  What choice did she have? “Okay.” And just like that, Brock slipped his fingers from her wrist to her palm and guided her up the dock that way, holding her hand.

  Tingles mingled with wariness, putting Vanessa on guard. He had a firm grip, one that made a girl feel protected and safe. “Hah,” she mumbled aloud.

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s lovely here,” she said, covering her verbal blunder.

  Thankfully, he didn’t comment. And once they reached the end of the dock, he climbed onto the boat and turned to help her aboard. His touch brought unwelcome trembles and that knot inside twisted tighter. He released her immediately and smiled. “This is it. The Rebecca.”

  A question entered her mind and Vanessa had to ask, “Why’d you name the boat after your mother?”

  He scratched the back of his head, drew his brows together and replied almost reluctantly, “I lost a bet with my brother.”

  “You…” And then it hit her. Those warm feelings she’d held for him minutes ago vanished and the relief she felt brought a smile to her lips. “You lost a bet?”

  “I know,” he said, smiling, too. “Terrible, isn’t it? Trent and I have ongoing bets and it usually takes my older brother Evan to referee. My mother doesn’t know that, though, and it made her happy when I told her. So all was not lost. I’m used to the name, but the one I picked fit me better.”

  Brock’s honesty seemed genuine…and human. She couldn’t get caught up in that moment of sincerity, she reminded herself. “Which was?”

  “Winning B.E.T.”

  “Catchy,” she said. “Stands for Brock Elliot Tyler, right?”

  “You’ve done your homework. I like that,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming in a way that made her heart pound against her chest.

  She shrugged. “It’s not rocket science to know your employer’s full name.”

  Brock frowned and cast her a piercing look. “Can we pretend I’m not your employer right now?”

  But you are, she wanted to scream. “Um, sure.”

  He took her hand again and she followed him to the opposite end of the boat where a lavish table was set for two. “This is where I need your opinion. Can’t decide on whether to have eggs Benedict or a veggie omelet for breakfast. Which do you prefer?”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you inviting me for breakfast?”

  His eyes flickered to the table, then back to her and then the thought struck. “You knew I’d be running this way this morning?” She pointed toward the place where they’d first met. “And you planned this?”

&nb
sp; He shrugged. “I’ve seen you run every day this week. Today I thought I’d ask you to join me for breakfast.”

  Vanessa was flattered and confused. “You could have called me up and asked me.”

  “Would you have said yes?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, then clamped it shut. Self-conscious, she touched her hair and shoved the tresses that had come loose back into her ponytail. “I’m hardly dressed for—”

  His gaze roamed over her gray sweatpants and tank top, appreciation evident in his eyes. “You look…good, Vanessa. There’s no formality here, I’m in jeans.”

  She’d noticed. They fit him so well, hugging his waist and outlining his perfect butt. “Why?”

  He scrubbed his face, running a hand down his jawline. “It’s just breakfast on my boat. Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat,” she said, smiling at him, wiping the annoyance from her face. No sense riling the boss, at least not this way. “Thank you. I accept.”

  “That was hard work,” he grumbled. “Are you this tough on all the men in your life?”

  “There are no men in my life.”

  A satisfied gleam entered his dark eyes. He pulled her up against him, his hands wrapping around her waist as he leaned in, his mouth inches from hers. “I’d like to change that.”

  Good heavens, Brock knew how to kiss. His lips brushed hers gently, giving her a tantalizing taste of what was to come. He held her loosely at first, but as he deepened the kiss, he pulled her closer, enveloping her in his fresh, sandalwood scent. Then he released her for a moment, looking into her eyes. “I like you, Vanessa.”

  “One would hope, by the way you just kissed me.”

  Warmth sparkled in his eyes and an infectious smile widened his luscious mouth. “You’re not like other women,” he seemed to puzzle out loud.

  “Why not? What’s wrong with me?”

  He took her back into his arms, crushing his lips to hers again, her willpower waning, her mission all but forgotten. “Nothing at all,” he whispered.

  Brock leaned in and once again Vanessa fell into his kiss, her mind checking out for a moment. She hadn’t been kissed this passionately since…she couldn’t recall a time when she’d been so wrapped up in a man that she’d forgotten all good sense.

  Suddenly, all the other men in her life paled in comparison to Brock Tyler. For the next few moments, Vanessa enjoyed being in his arms, enjoyed the heady taste of him and his male scent blending with the salty sea breeze. She enjoyed his expert mouth and his firm tight body pressed to her.

  Then reality set in.

  What’s wrong with you, Vanessa? He’s your nemesis, the man you came here to ruin.

  As if she’d willed it, her stomach growled and she pushed Brock away slightly, pasting on her most charming smile. “I guess I’m really hungry…for breakfast that is.”

  Brock inhaled a sharp breath. “Right, breakfast.”

  “Right,” she repeated, stepping even farther from him, “You know, the reason you hijacked me from my run.”

  “Got it,” he said, casting her a hungry look that had nothing to do with veggie omelets. “Have a seat. I’ll talk to the chef. Pour us some pineapple juice while you’re waiting.”

  Vanessa rose from her seat the moment Brock headed inside and chastised herself for letting him get to her. She’d wanted him to kiss her, and now that she knew what it was like, she sympathized with Melody all the more.

  She could see how an innocent, less experienced girl could fall victim to Brock in a heartbeat. He was smooth and charming and sexy as hell.

  She fanned herself and then steadied her wayward nerves. When Brock came back, she looked cool as a cucumber, sitting at the table, sipping juice from a hundred-dollar Waterford Crystal.

  A feast of food was served from the galley by the chef and Brock thanked him as way of dismissal. When he disappeared out of view, she dug into her food, ignoring the fact that she and Brock locked lips pretty hot and heavily just a few minutes ago.

  “This is so good,” she confessed, relishing every bite of the meal. “More than I usually eat for breakfast.” She gobbled up the veggie omelet covered with mango sauce, fresh fruit and with a measure of guilt, popped a tiny pastry into her mouth then washed it down with a cup of Kona coffee. She doubted she’d be able to jog back to the hotel after this.

  “I’ll confess, it’s more than I eat every morning, too.”

  She didn’t doubt it. He’d never keep such a muscular physique if he ate like this every day.

  “But, I will admit to having an enormous appetite.” He glanced at her mouth, then leaned over and kissed her quickly. “You had some mango at the corner of your lip.”

  Darn he was fast and…charming. She swiped at her mouth with her napkin and looked over the rest of her body for food remnants, for fear he’d take her to bed to cleanse her of them. “You could have just told me.”

  He rubbed his nose, trying to hide a smile. “I like my way better.”

  “Do you always get your way?” she asked quietly, her question pointless. They both knew he was a man who got whatever he wanted.

  He glanced at her in a knowing way, looking her over from head to toe, his gaze hot with sexual promise. “Not today, I won’t.”

  She stared into his eyes, captivated for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. “You won’t?”

  “Vanessa, I don’t play games. I want you, but it’s too soon. C’mon,” he said, rising and reaching for her hand. “I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

  It was too soon? Vanessa worked in her office through most of the day repeating Brock’s words in her mind, her anger rising as each hour passed.

  He wanted her, but it was too soon.

  His comment meant that she hadn’t a choice in the matter. Did he bother to ask if she were interested? No, he just assumed that one day, he’d get what he wanted.

  Her.

  His arrogance knew no bounds.

  Vanessa thought of Melody and wondered if he’d given her sister fair warning. Or had he just showered her with charm and sex appeal and taken what he wanted, then dumped her for the next female challenge that had come along.

  Every time she thought of Melody’s heartbreak over Brock Tyler, she silently vowed to make him pay with the one thing that seemed to really matter to him—his hotel.

  “Focus on that, Vanessa,” she muttered, while going over the files for the Everett wedding. And stop thinking about how Brock’s lips worked magic over yours and how his strong muscular arms wrapped you up in a cocoon of safety and warmth.

  “What’s the frown about?” Lucy walked into her office with a beautiful arrangement of island flowers and set them down on her desk.

  “Lucy! These are beautiful. But you didn’t have to—”

  Lucy put up a stopping hand. “Whoa! Don’t get ahead of yourself. I wish these were in my budget, but I’m afraid all I can offer for curing me is a drink or two at Joe’s Tiki Torch on the beach. When Akamu saw me headed this way, he handed me the flowers and asked if I could bring them to you.”

  “From Akamu? Is it tradition for new employees to receive these?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve never gotten flowers like these from anyone around here.” She pointed. “There’s a card.”

  Vanessa plucked the card out of the envelope, her suspicions aroused. She read it silently.

  I’ve never enjoyed breakfast more.

  Brock

  Vanessa’s knees went weak. Without elaborate words, the simple sweet sentiment touched her. Images replayed in her mind of Brock’s calling to her from the dock, seeking her out and inviting her to breakfast. He’d said all the right things and she’d found him easy to be with, until he’d kissed her with so much passion, he stole her breath. Instant awareness sparked between them and Vanessa had had to back off. For her own sanity.

  He’d known exactly how to push her buttons. He was smooth—she’d give him that. But a few kis
ses and gorgeous flowers wouldn’t change anything.

  “Well?” Lucy stood impatiently by, trying to peek at the card. “Who sent them to you?”

  “Oh, uh,” she stumbled and hated fibbing to her friend. “My sister sent them from the mainland.” Vanessa blinked away her guilt at lying and shoved the card back into its envelope. “Wasn’t that sweet of her?”

  Deflated, Lucy nodded. “Yeah, that’s some nice generous sister you have.”

  Vanessa avoided making eye contact with Lucy. The woman was too astute. “Thanks for bringing them to me.”

  “I was on my way to your office anyway. So what do you say? Want to go to the Torch tomorrow night for a drink? We’ll celebrate your two-week anniversary working at Tempest Maui. My treat.”

  Vanessa didn’t have to think about it. She’d need a night out right after the afternoon wedding fiasco she hoped to create tomorrow. A case of jitters quaked her stomach, but she forged on, noting that besides needing a night out, she could also use a friend. “Sure, I’d love to.”

  Lucy headed for the door. “I’ll pick you up at eight Saturday night. Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you got flowers from the boss.”

  Vanessa’s jaw dropped open. “How did you—”

  “I saw him in the flower shop this morning, hand-picking the orchids he wanted in the arrangement.”

  Contrite, Vanessa slumped her shoulders. “I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “Wrong idea? Are you nuts? Do you know how many women would trade places with you right now?” Lucy winked with a big smile. “You lucky girl.”

  After she walked out, Vanessa fingered a golden hibiscus, shaking her head. “If Lucy only knew the truth,” she whispered to the bird of paradise jutting up from the bouquet. “She wouldn’t think I’m lucky. She’d think I’m…insane for going up against the boss.”

  “You’re drinking white wine?” Lucy said, over the blasting music of the three-piece band at Joe’s Tiki Torch. The crowded beachside bar lent itself to loud chatter and laughter amid the patrons. “You should be more adventurous, Vanny. Try an Amaretto Sour or a Mojito or the cliché Blue Hawaiian.”