THE MITUS TOUCH: Book One of The Touch Series Read online

  Colton nodded. Then, he, too, poured a glass of sparkling water. With his gaze cemented on hers, he drank it. Mesmerized by his fluid movement, she wondered if he was aware of his commanding and graceful presence.

  “Brigit, your presentation was thorough. I have no questions.”

  Her prideful smile couldn’t be contained. Yes, yes, yes. I nailed it! “Thank you.”

  “Should I extend you an offer, I’d double your current earnings.”

  Whoa. I could buy a ton of Francesco stock.

  “In addition, bonuses would be tied to a percentage of growth realized.” Colton set down the glass. “While generous, it’s well deserved. Since you can ballpark my worth, offering you less would be an insult, especially since you’ll be working round the clock.” He raked his hand over his whiskered cheek and the slow, repetitive motion distracted her. All the while, his expression remained unreadable. “It’s best to get everything on the table. I have a reservation.”

  “Just one?” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I have several.”

  “You’re too strong-willed and too independent.”

  “How are those problems? Don’t you want a wealth manager who’s as passionate about your success as you are?”

  He strummed his fingers on the table. “And I’m confident you’d ignore my orders.”

  “Wrong again. First, I wouldn’t ignore you. That’s disrespectful. Second, I don’t take orders from anyone, but I would hear you out. Doing what you tell me and doing what’s best for the health of your wealth might be two completely different things. But since I’m not working for you, this conversation is pointless isn’t it?”

  He stared at her with the intensity of a lion hunting its prey. At long last Colton Mitus had finally heard her.

  9

  The Gift

  Colton didn’t believe in luck. He believed in nose to the grindstone, tenacity, and in winning. And then winning again.

  Brigit’s phenomenal presentation was peppered with charm and humor. Colton despised bullshitters and fast talkers. She was neither. Her intelligence shone though without being showy. And her efforts impressed the hell out of him. Professionally she was quite competent to manage his portfolio and possibly earn a spot in his inner circle of trusted Mitus advisors.

  But his initial impression of her hadn’t changed. She was independent to a fault and he was confident she wouldn’t follow his instructions. Her strong-willed nature could pose a considerable challenge. Bringing a wild card into the fold could hurt his wireless venture and possibly undermine his career. Was Brigit Farnay the right person to manage his flailing portfolio?

  Skimming her analysis of MobiCom, he said, “This is well done and concise. You handled my last-minute request well.”

  “Why was this urgent?”

  “The nature of my projects requires immediate turnaround.”

  “I’ll let Seth know. He’ll find an advisor who’ll meet your unrealistic demands.”

  Colton flashed her a smile. “He already did.”

  She swiveled to face him and arched a brow. “Were you testing me?”

  Of course I was. Colton held her gaze for a few seconds. “Since you’ll be living here, let me show you around.”

  She stood and squared her shoulders. A chilly demeanor replaced the warmth in her eyes. Her resistance to moving in would be a challenge, but he’d overcome it. He’d keep the tour brief, skipping the underground parking garage along with the additional bedroom suites on the uppermost floor.

  The recreation level downstairs had a heated swimming pool, full-sized gym, and state-of-the-art home theater, but he wasn’t going to show her those amenities either. The main room was set up for a show. She’d ask questions, none of which he’d answer. She’d see that room after his staff had reconfigured it for a party…a G-rated one. Withholding certain things until after she’d moved in might mitigate the likelihood of her moving out.

  But Brigit wasn’t going to accept the position because of his amenities anyway. Well, not those amenities. Inwardly he smiled.

  In the library, he showed her his Civil War gun collection passed down through five Mitus generations. She searched his face, paying little attention to the weapons. What was she thinking? A simple smile reached her eyes. He could not read this woman. That drove him crazy. He found it sexy as hell when a woman played hard to get. Although he doubted this woman was playing.

  “I could have skipped the guns, right?” he asked.

  “Not at all. The weapons are…well…they’re part of your family history and…a treasured heirloom.” She fiddled with the thick silver bracelet on her delicate right wrist.

  As they walked up the staircase to the bedroom suites on the fourth floor his thoughts strayed. How would she feel in his arms, his mouth claiming hers, his hand caressing her curvy ass? How would she taste, everywhere? How could he bring her on board and keep his mind, and his body, off her? Well, he’d have to figure out a fucking way or he’d be forced to hire someone else. And after seeing her presentation, he had to have her. What he couldn’t stop thinking about was all the ways he imagined.

  Not one for filler talk, he walked down the hallway in silence. Colton didn’t invite women into his private quarters, but he wanted to end the tour in his sitting room, overlooking the scenic view of the back of his property. And he wanted complete privacy, something he could control here.

  “After you,” he said, pushing open one of the two doors to his spacious suite.

  She glanced inside. “Uh, no thanks. I’ve seen bedrooms. In fact, I have one of my very own.”

  Squelching his smile, he wanted to tell her to get her ass in there. “I’ve arranged for wine in my sitting room. Unless you want to scale my home and climb over the balcony, you’re going to have to walk through that door.”

  With an expression he could only surmise was frustration—though it might have been amusement—she stepped over the threshold.

  Having Brigit in his bedroom felt right. Until the image of her riding him on his sleigh bed sent a punching jolt through him. But they quickly passed through and into his sitting room, where the late afternoon sun bathed the room in streaming rays of autumnal light.

  A fruit and cheese platter along with an open bottle of Chianti awaited their arrival. She popped a cheese square into her mouth.

  “Wine?”

  Her expression lightened and she nodded.

  As he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed. He could warm her soft, chilly skin within minutes if she lay beneath him, then ravage her until she lay boneless and begging for more. Exercise some damn control.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  She moseyed over to his built-in bookshelves. “You can read?”

  He smiled. He could do so much with her sassy mouth. “Those are for show. They’re hollow, like in a movie.”

  Her burst of laughter surprised him. Finally, she sat, poised on the sofa’s edge. Her ruler-straight back and stilted pose made him want to laugh. She could have balanced that cheese platter on her head. Was she skittish in his private quarters? Well, he wasn’t going to jump her. Even he had more couth than that. Not happening. No sex. No sex.

  He wanted her in the absolute worst way.

  Settling into his oversized upholstered chair across the cozy room, the welcomed distance allowed him to breathe something other than the coconut lotion he swore she’d slathered over every inch of her sweet body.

  “Cheers.” He raised his glass. “Best presentation I’ve ever seen.”

  Her vibrant green eyes grew dark, like storm clouds masking the sun. “That means more to me than you could know.”

  “Tell me about your business philosophy.” He leaned back and propped one leg on the corner of the ottoman.

  As she sipped the wine, her eyes brightened. “Mmm, this is excellent. Just a touch of bitter herbs.”

  Her sultry whisper floated in the air and he clamped down on his imagination, which was headed nowhere good, f
ast. “I’m glad you like it. Are you a wine connoisseur?”

  “When it comes to wine, I trust my expert taste buds.” She cozied into the sofa cushions.

  Much better. See, I don’t bite. Well, not yet, anyway.

  “Now about that business philosophy,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me about yours?”

  She deflected my question. Rather than force the issue, he’d make an exception and play nice. “Winning is the only acceptable outcome.”

  “Yes, it is. So, in light of your reservations, why extend me an offer?” When she crossed her legs, the skirt rode up her thighs. Pausing for a split-second to appreciate her shapely gams, he flipped his gaze back to her eyes, but she’d seen him.

  Busted.

  She didn’t break eye contact nor did she blush or squirm. For several tantalizing seconds, the air grew electric with their energy.

  “It would be a calculated business decision that would outweigh the inevitable headaches you’re likely to cause me,” he said. “I like to win. You like to win. That’s good for business. Don’t you agree?”

  “Of course not.” The tiniest hint of a smile brightened her eyes.

  Of course not.

  Because of her guarded nature, Colton directed the conversation back to wine, which seemed like a safe subject. Nearly an hour later the only thing he’d learned was her impressive knack for deflecting questions. Her specialty might be to drive him insane. The verdict was still out.

  The soft rat-a-tat on his bedroom door felt like an intrusion and not an opportunity to escape. He rose, set his goblet on the coffee table and offered his hand. She stiffened, like a mannequin. Taking her wine glass, he placed it next to his, then extended his hand again. This time she accepted.

  When they touched, blood whooshed through his veins at a maddening pace. Their eyes locked and her dilating pupils bled black over green. Aching to kiss her plump lips, he pulled her close and hardened. Her breath caught and she stole a glance at his mouth.

  A louder knock broke their connection and he released her. Dammit.

  “Enter.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wanted that kiss. Given another opportunity, he would kiss her. If she wanted him half as much as he wanted her, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  Taylor appeared in the sitting room doorway and flushed. “Uh…um, you told me to be here, err…now. Bad time?”

  That obvious? Throttle back. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he said, “Taylor, Brigit should wear the vintage gown, don’t you think?” He’d been fantasizing about her in that number all week.

  As Brigit bit out a grunt, she cocked her hand on her hip. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about my refusing to take orders from you?”

  Fidgeting, Taylor glanced furtively at Brigit while a thick silence hung in the air. The stare down continued. If Brigit wouldn’t wear a damn dress, she’d never follow his portfolio instructions.

  “More wine before I steal Brigit away?” Taylor asked breaking the silence.

  “Yes,” they both answered.

  Taylor giggled until Colton cut his stare to her. Clearing her throat, she filled their goblets in silence. “Brigit, please come with me.” As Taylor removed the platter, she knocked over Colton’s glass. Red wine splattered onto the light upholstery of the ottoman, creating a stain resembling a Rorschach test. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Taylor’s cheeks turned as red as the spilled liquid.

  Colton’s nostrils flared. “Taylor, please text Vanessa about the ottoman so housekeeping can work their magic.”

  Though driven and determined, he maintained an even keel, especially when angered. Seeing the damaged furniture pissed him off, but that was his issue. Taylor made a mistake, and she knew it.

  As a result of his father’s tirades, fear, humiliation and daily stomachaches had haunted the first ten years of his life. He’d cut off his arm before he’d do that to anyone, especially someone he cared about, like Taylor.

  Trying to distance himself from memories of his father, he rose to his full stature, threw back his shoulders and breathed. The man Colton had become wouldn’t tolerate cruel behavior. Never again.

  “Excuse me a moment.” Colton retreated into his bedroom. On impulse he’d purchased a piece of jewelry that would compliment Brigit’s delicate neckline. Returning to the sitting room, he offered her the small, rectangular wrapped box. “A token of my appreciation.”

  Brigit stepped back. “I…I can’t accept this.”

  Determined she take it, he placed the gift in her palm. “It’s part of the onboarding experience.”

  She cracked a smile. “Thank you.”

  The two grand he’d spent was worth her adorable expression. He wanted to run his fingers over her pink cheeks until his thumb brushed that pouty lower lip. And then he wanted to replace his thumb with his mouth, for starters.

  Taylor ushered her out. Pausing in the doorway, Brigit turned. He’d been appreciating her backside. Her tiny waist, the sway of her ass, those defined calf muscles. She eyed him with such intensity he almost asked her what, or who, she needed. And then, she was gone, her beguiling image charred into his memory.

  If he had one night with her, he could get her out of his system. Shaking his head, he tried convincing himself it was a bad idea, but the sweet temptation had taken hold. Against his better judgment and steadfast rule, he had to have her.

  And he couldn’t wait.

  10

  Keeping His Distance

  Brigit entered the guest suite, located midway down the long hallway. When compared with the masculine touches throughout the mansion, this room mimicked an upscale hotel suite. Neutral colors, understated, modern furniture. Surprisingly, she missed Colton’s influence. Taupe walls matched the taupe love seat and the taupe throw pillows offset the bright white comforter.

  Taylor tapped the remote on the night table and soothing butter yellow and cobalt blue flames soared from the coals in the gas fireplace. As promised, Brigit’s overnight bag had been placed on the queen bed.

  “The gowns are hanging in the closet,” said Taylor. “They’re lovely.”

  Rolling her eyes, Brigit followed. Other than three dresses, the walk-in was bare. Taylor offered each dress like they were sacrificial lambs. First, a conservative black satin with burgundy lace overlay. Next, a sexy eggplant purple halter with train, and third, a classy vintage gold lamé and cream with a center slit. Though she appreciated the exquisite detail and quality of these couture gowns, she’d no intention of bowing to Colton’s demands.

  “You’d look great in any of these, especially this one.” Taylor singled out the vintage gown again.

  She’s following orders. “Thank you.”

  Taylor spun the dress on its hanger, displaying the open back.

  Brigit laughed. “Why don’t you wear that one?”

  “Colton wants you to wear it.” Taylor hung the dress and marched out of the closet.

  Brigit followed, feeling like a duckling.

  “Cocktails will be served before dinner. I’ll be back in an hour to escort you downstairs. You good?”

  “Seriously? I’m in lockdown until tomorrow and I’ve been given a forced dress choice by the Clothing Czar.”

  Laughing, Taylor edged toward the door. “Text me if you need anything.” She left.

  Brigit sat on the love seat and stared at the small wrapped gift. Curious, she unwrapped it and lifted the lid on the David Yurman black box. How beautiful. A silver and gold pendant covered with pave diamonds dangled from a thick silver chain. The necklace complemented her Yurman bracelet.

  Coincidence, or had he noticed her bracelet? Was Colton attempting to bribe her into coming on board? The cutthroat businessman was being both generous and charming. He must really need a wealth manager.

  After a hot shower, she swept her hair into a messy updo, applied her makeup and dressed. Standing in front of the beveled mirror in the bedroom, she brushed her fingers over the sparkly pendant resting on h
er chest. The twinkling diamonds caught the light and winked back. The necklace spruced up her simple black halter dress. The three couture gowns remained in the closet, their price tags still attached. As a courtesy, she’d wear the necklace, but donning a six-thousand-dollar dress was not happening.

  Precisely one hour later, there was a knock on her door. Brigit stepped into the hallway.

  Taylor’s mouth dropped. “Oh, no, you’re wearing your gown. I’ll wait. You change.”

  “No.”

  Nibbling a fingernail, Taylor murmured, “Oh boy, this should be interesting.”

  A small army mingled in the opulent living room. Disappearing briefly, Taylor returned with two crystal glasses of red wine. Light-bodied and fruity with a hint of oak and chocolate, the Cab rolled down Brigit’s throat. And her expert taste buds rejoiced. Regardless of the wine type, Colton Mitus drank the good stuff.

  Brigit met several guests who turned out to be Mitus staff. His organization included a business team, a housekeeping staff, a groundskeeper, a culinary duo, and personal shoppers. Colton had surrounded himself with dutiful subjects. The Clothing Czar was also King of the Castle. No wonder he expects me to fall in line. Everyone else does.

  A leggy, chestnut-haired woman joined her and Taylor. “I’m Simone Redding, Colton’s business manager. Call me Red.” She shook Brigit’s hand. “I heard your presentation went well. When are you onboarding? I need help, like yesterday, with my dwindling investments.”

  News travels fast. “So, the previous wealth manager advised the staff?”

  “In theory, but Colton kept Todd crazy busy,” Red said. “I keep saying I’m going to find an investment manager, but…no time.” She shrugged. “I live and breathe my job.”

  “How long have you worked at Mitus?” Brigit asked.

  “Three years,” said Red.

  “Over four,” said Taylor.

  “Do you like working here?” Brigit instantly regretted asking the question. It sounded like she was contemplating a career move. She was not.