Kissing the Tycoon: A Sherman Cousins Short Story Bk2 Read online

  Kissing the Tycoon

  by Dominique Eastwick

  Copyright © Dominique Eastwick, 2014

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

  Musa Publishing

  4815 Iron Horse Trail

  Colorado Springs, CO 80917

  www.MusaPublishing.com

  Issued by Musa Publishing LLC, February 2014

  This e-book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this e-book can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-61937-708-0

  Head Editor: Elspeth McClanahan

  Editor: Tamara Frigoletto

  Artist: Kelly Shorten

  Line Editor: Helen Hardt

  Interior Book Design: Cera Smith

  Acknowledgments

  My list is, as always, long. Thank you to Tam, Liz, Nadine, Dawn, Tracy, Kara, and Becky for keeping me sane, helping me rein in my muse and bitch slapping me back to earth when I need it. You are all my blessings.

  I also wish to thank all the readers who love the Shermans as much as I do.

  Chapter One

  Bone weary and none too pleased, Barret Briggs climbed out of the limo his brother had sent to the airport for him. But before he could head to the office to pick up his truck and then home, a driver greeted him with a note and a garment bag.

  If you ever want to see your truck again, meet me at the Hyatt and wear your tux.

  —Chandler

  So now his brother held his only means of transport hostage, and if a tux was involved, it meant he was using it as leverage to get Barret to attend some high class, overpriced, pretentious function. All Barret wanted in his jet-lagged state was a pillow and a bed, preferably his pillow. It had been weeks since he’d been home, and now his damned brother wanted to make him wait longer.

  Cursing like a dock worker, Barret let the bitter cold Boston air singe his lungs. The pain gave him a jolt of energy. After fifteen hours in flight, his first thought was to pull out his check book and give money to whatever charity he was here to support and then beat the keys out of his brother if necessary. He’d learned a long time ago that at these events, as long as you threw your money their way, no one cared if you were there or not.

  Once upon a time, he thought money could also buy happiness. After all, his parents fought and eventually divorced because of the lack of it. So in his mind, having it would mean the opposite. But the more he made, the lonelier he became. The only woman he wanted to share his money with became more distant as his bank account grew. Now he had everything he could ever want except the one thing he needed—Riley Sherman.

  “There you are.” The familiar voice of his brother cut through his musings. “Wow, you’re quick. Already changed and all.”

  “I changed in the car,” he returned, hoping the evil eye would encourage Chandler to relent and hand over his keys.

  “Here’s your ticket to the ball.”

  No such luck. With a sigh he grabbed the ticket. “What’s the charity?”

  “Downtown woman’s shelter for abused and battered women and children.”

  Well, at least it was a worthy cause. It didn’t make him less angry, but it did take the edge off. Stifling a yawn, he followed his brother into the ballroom, refusing the flute of champagne offered from a passing waiter. “You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee?”

  “Of course, sir. Just tell me your table number and I will bring it right over.”

  “Seven,” Chandler supplied, ushering them through the crowd and a sea of white-covered round tables until they reached the one with their number elegantly displayed amidst the floral arrangement. “You look dead on your feet.”

  “You think?”

  “I know you hate these things. Now don’t raise your eyebrows at me.” His brother chuckled, grabbing a stuffed mushroom from the passing waiter and shoving it whole into his mouth. Some things money couldn’t buy, and class, when it came to his brother, was one of them.

  “So why make me come? You know all I wanted was to climb into my own bed.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, damn it.”

  “You want the honest answer?”

  “No, Chandler, I want you to lie.”

  “You need to get out more. Before you argue, hear me out. You spend all your time working and never socializing. When you aren’t working, you’re up at that house of yours fixing it up. Alone.”

  “Hardly alone. The guys come over for poker nights.”

  “They don’t count.”

  He knew arguing with that logic would get him nowhere, so he switched tracks. “So you thought blackmailing me into coming tonight would make me more sociable.”

  “Blackmail seems a bit harsh, don’t you think”

  “What in the hell would you call it then?”

  “Holding your car hostage.”

  Unable to hold back his laughter, Barret clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Yeah, grand theft auto is always so much better.”

  “I haven’t taken it across the state lines yet. It’s just that since ‘she’ left…”

  “She?”

  “Barret, you know damned well who I mean.”

  “You can say her name. I promise not to go off the rails.”

  “Maybe you should. When she…Riley—”

  Barret could hardly miss the way his brother gritted his teeth at saying her name.

  “—left you didn’t get upset, you just dug in harder—made more money, worked more. When you bought the house, I thought, ‘Hurrah, he’ll get away but then all you do is work there renovating so you can flip it and make more money.’”

  “You like the money I make. Besides, I didn’t have a lot of choice but to keep working. Too many people relied on that shipping merger to go through.” Besides, it was work or get on his knees and beg her to come back to him.

  Chandler sighed, and his attention moved to the gentlemen approaching their table. Content that his brother would be tied up in conversation, Barret picked up the coffee before him. The rich roasted aroma assailed his senses, perking him back up for a moment. His hand froze as he brought the mug to his lips. His eyes met the ice blue glare of a man across the ballroom. His ex’s cousin stood, staring him down—Tony Sherman, reformed playboy, golden boy of the press, and self-proclaimed protector to the Sherman clan.

  Barret knew better than to step back or look away. Of course, the problem with Sherman cousins was, like raptors, they hunted in packs. While one locked eyes with you, more were flanking you from all sides. Only when the pretty blonde next to Tony forced his attention off Barret and onto her, did Barret look away. Searching the room, he located two more Shermans—first Trenton, another of Riley’s cousins, then Alec, the world-renowned photographer and Riley’s older brother. Scanning between them, in an effort to protect himself, he managed to get his brother’s attention. He was in deep discussion a table over. “Who is sponsoring this event?”

  “Um, let’s see, Transit Unlimited, some oil company, and let me check the ticket… Oh, Sherman Industries.”

  “Great.” He’d managed to walk straight into the lion’s den. Scanning the room again, through the sea of tuxedos and dresses that could feed a small country with what they cost, he managed to locate Tony’s tall blond head. And predictably, Tony was next to the one person he hoped to locate. He watched as Tony leaned over and whispered into the ear of the woman whose voluptuous backside remained turned to him. A sea of strawberry blond tendrils kissed her neck.

  As she turned slowly, he held his breath, waiting to see her face. Perhaps she was turning in slow motion, but in his mind it was an eternity. Finally their eyes met and locked. His lungs hurt from not only holding in his breath but from the anticipation. Ignoring the five sets of male eyes burning into him, he walked toward her. The other Sherman females seemed blissfully unaware that their men were closing ranks, protecting and proving that once again no one messed with a Sherman and got out scot-free.

  “Briggs,” Tony grunted, stepping into his path.

  “Sherman,” was all he could say unless he planned to make a scene. And really what more could he say?

  “Tony, enough.” Riley’s voice sent chills over Barret’s heated body, washing the exhaustion away.

  “Tony Sherman, what are you doing?” The same blonde from earlier demanded. She placed a firm hand on his chest and forced him to move. So this was the woman who had brought the famed playboy to heel.

  “Haven, my Neanderthal cousins and brother seem to think we women can’t handle anything by ourselves.” Riley’s gaze never left the men before her.

  Barret watched as the Sherman men’s focuses turned to appeasing the ladies a
nd their hostility. How the mighty did fall. Even Trent, who was single, wasn’t immune to the attack.

  Riley, having dealt with her would-be bodyguards, now focused on him. “Hello, Barret.”

  “Riley.”

  “I assume you didn’t just try to maneuver the Sherman gauntlet to say my name.”

  “No”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Would you believe I was blackmailed into coming?”

  “Blackmailed?”

  “Um…yes.”

  “Wow. I’m actually speechless. I’ve never heard anyone admit that they were blackmailed into helping a women’s shelter.” Riley turned but stopped when Barret placed a stilling hand on her arm.

  “Please wait.” He removed his hand from her arm and rubbed at the tension creeping into his shoulders, the sudden energy seeping from his body.

  “Are you all right? You look ill.”

  “I’ll be fine, just extremely jet-lagged. After a fifteen hour flight, plus two to get through customs, I discovered my idiot brother stole my truck from the long-term lot and the only way to get it back was to come here.” He sat in the nearest seat as his legs threatened to give out from under him.

  “You’re exhausted.”

  “Understatement.”

  Riley took the seat next to him. “So, blackmailed?”

  He nodded but quickly said, “But I’m glad to see you, and of course I want to help the shelter.”

  Her face relaxed and her smile sent an electric pulse shooting through his body. “It’s good to see you too. You haven’t changed much.”

  “You’re more beautiful…” The words slipped out before he could stop them. “I heard congratulations are in order. You’re engaged. I hope he is worthy of you.”

  “He wasn’t.” She sighed.

  Hope surged through him, causing his ears to ring. “Wasn’t?”

  “You’re the last person I want to discuss Chad with.” Getting to her feet, she looked around “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Please stay.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I miss you, Riley.”

  “Give me a break.” Her eyes glistened.

  Good God don’t let her cry, he thought. It would destroy him.

  “You had me and didn’t notice.”

  “I noticed. I just didn’t see.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “There you are, Barret,” his brother said, coming up behind Riley.

  She tensed and Barret took a deep steadying breath.

  “One second you were there then poof—disappeared.”

  “You remember Riley?”

  “Riley?”

  Calmly, Riley turned to greet his brother. “Chandler.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I head Sherman Industry Charities.”

  “You…” Chandler looked like a fish out of water.

  Riley smirked, and Barret couldn’t help but smile. His brother had always gotten Riley wrong from the first day. Calling her a gold digger, only after what she could get. At first, Barret had tried to correct his brother’s view but in the end didn’t bother. Riley had more money waiting for her in a trust fund than Barret or Chandler could have ever dreamed about back then.

  “You’re related to the Shermans?”

  “One and all.”

  “I kept telling you she wasn’t after my money.”

  “Riley, excuse me for interrupting, but Tony said it’s time,” Callie, Riley’s favorite and heavily pregnant cousin, said softly. She smiled at Barret before returning her attention to Riley. “Tony would’ve come over himself, but he didn’t want to be accused of, and I quote, ‘being a Neanderthal.’”

  “I’m surprised they left me in peace this long.”

  “Oh, they are on raptor patrol.”

  Both women squeaked. “Raptor patrol?”

  Barret signaled to Tony to the front of him. “Distracter, makes someone think you only have to deal with him, which to a lesser man would be intimidating enough.” He signaled behind him, much like a flight attendant would when describing the exit doors behind them. He watched both women’s jaws drop. “Those two come in for the kill when you aren’t looking. They sometimes change but there are always three.”

  “Son of a—I can’t believe they—How did you know?”

  “Hunter warned me just after we started dating. From one Southie guy to another, I guess. They hunt in packs, he said, much like raptors. So we coined it the raptor patrol.”

  “Huh.”

  “Barret, I hate to take her away, but she really does have work to do.”

  Riley excused herself and moved through the crowd. Barret watched her curvaceous hips shimmy away under the emerald green ball gown. It physically hurt to have her leave him again. The knowledge of how much he had lost weighed heavy on his soul.

  Not until Callie spoke did he realize she hadn’t followed, “Hurt her again, and I will sic every single Sherman cousin from here to California on your ass, do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Good, now make her smile again.”

  Perplexed, he watched Callie walk away before looking again towards the gorgeous woman now on stage. She stood next to the podium, flanked by other Shermans.

  Team spokesman Tony stepped up to the mic, as Barret made his way back to his table. “Thank you for coming out tonight…”

  “As many of you are aware, helping battered women has become a personal cause for our family…”

  Riley listened as Tony spoke to the crowd, eloquent as ever, but her mind kept racing back to Barret. She couldn’t make out where he was through the blinding lights focused on them, but she could feel him out there watching, waiting. Fate was a true bitch. Why have him show back up in her life tonight? Last night she’d broken her six-month engagement with restaurateur Chad Blackstone. In truth, she should have never said yes to his proposal in the first place, but after the disaster with Barret, it felt so good to be asked.

  “My cousin, Riley Sherman—Riley.” Tony grabbed her hand and pulled her close. He must have seen something in her eyes because he covered the mic. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and pulled out her note cards. Unlike Tony, she wasn’t a “wing it and succeed” speaker. She took a sip of the water before her. “I’m fine.”

  “I’ll get him out of here if you want. Just say the word.”

  “You and your raptor patrol can ease back.”

  “Raptor—oh I like that.”

  “You would.” Pushing him out of the way, she smiled at the crowd she couldn’t see. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I would quickly like to bring your attention to a new item being brought to the silent auction table. Private rock climbing lessons have been graciously added by the very handsome, and might I add extremely single, Trenton Sherman. Also, the other items…” The rest of her speech went buy quickly enough as she read the words on her cards. Finally she brought J.C. Sherman-Brooks to the podium, and her throat nearly closed up on tears as she squeezed her cousin’s hand. “I’d like to introduce you to J.C. Many of you know she is reason we are here tonight. Her strength and courage to come forward about her abusive first marriage shows that abuse knows no boundaries.”

  After hugging J.C., she exited the stage. She needed a breath of fresh air. The room seemed stuffy and now she hoped she could relax just a bit. Maneuvering through the crowd, she only stopped to speak with Hunter, whom she knew was having a hard time watching his wife talk about the events of her first marriage. She gave him a hug and headed out the balcony doors.

  The chilled air felt good on her overheated skin. Gripping the marble railing with both hands, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and took in the night air. Boston’s skyline twinkled before her, but the sounds of the city faded into the distance as she enjoyed the peace of the moment. She was thankful Spencer insisted she take Monday off, Tuesday too if she felt she needed it. It might be Friday, but she already knew it would take more than just a weekend to recover.

  “Great speech.” Barret’s baritone voice cut through the night’s sounds.

  Turning, she found him holding a flute of champagne in her direction. “Thank you.”

  “I had no idea J.C. was abused.”

  “No one did when she was going through it. But she is finding that speaking out about it makes her stronger and less of a victim, though it kills Hunter every time she does.”