****
“Sit down Ms. Jordan and let me know exactly what you need from me,” Tyler ordered a few minutes later as he led Brooke into what she immediately saw was his study.
His dark eyes clung to the womanly curves of her hips. She was a heart-wrenchingly beautiful woman and seemed completely unaware of her effect on men, himself included. Why, Roy had been unable to close his mouth the entire time they stood in the stables, which was why he had decided to take the meeting into his study before the other man embarrassed himself.
He himself had been tamping down his arousal ever since she had swept into the stable like a whirlwind and plastered herself all over him. He had felt every inch of her soft, pliant body and he had been hard as a rock before he had so much as gotten a good look at her face.
Innocently unaware of Tyler’s scrutiny, Brooke scanned the room, her experienced eyes immediately recognizing the perfect finish of the imposing Henkel Harris desk gracing one end of the room with an equally imposing chair planted behind it. Her heels sank into the thick Aubusson rug in the middle of the room as she deliberately crossed to slouch gratefully into the cushion beside the coffee table instead of the seat he had indicated in front of his desk. Several paintings lined the walls and she didn’t have to be an expert to know they were originals.
His black eyes tracked her progress, and when she looked up deliberately into his eyes, she was surprised to see a look of reluctant respect in his gaze.
“Mr. Harding, I have a lot of questions for you. I hope you have ample time because this could take quite a few hours,” she added.
“I thought you were supposed to be here for two weeks?” he asked, watching her intently, his gaze roving over her features as he lowered himself into the seat.
Brooke mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes, but if we can cover a lot of ground today, we’ll get rolling.”
He stared at her for a beat, then shrugged as he leaned back in his seat.
“Now, off the record, you never grant interviews to press of any kind. Why now? And why us?”
Tyler chuckled, the sound low and dark like chocolate. “Are you saying De Luxe is not good enough?”
“I’m just saying why did you suddenly decide to grant an interview, and for two weeks no less, after stonewalling for years?”
His hard firm lips canted to the side in a sexy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Try free positive publicity. Hardings’ Drilling didn’t get to the top by looking gift horses in the mouth. You, on the other hand, apparently never heard of gift horses Ms. Jordan--"
"Brooke," she cut in.
“Brooke,” he said slowly, drawing her name out and rolling it around on his tongue.
She tamped down on an inexplicable wave of heat and excitement that surged through her as he said her name. Suddenly nervous, Brooke’s tongue darted out to lick her lower lip and then her breath hitched in reaction as his eyes followed the tiny movement, rose to meet her own gaze, and then darkened with heat.
They both jerked their gazes away guiltily at the same time.
Silence reigned, thick and pregnant, and then Brooke deliberately steered them back to safer ground with a crisp, “Let’s talk about your family.”
“My family?”
Was it her imagination, or did he seem suddenly tense and guarded? Hostility was suddenly coming off him in waves.
“Yeah, remember them? Reclusive, beautiful, rich as sin and about as accessible as the moon? The Oil Hardings?”
His lips canted in that half-grin again, but this time, the smile reached his eyes. “The Oil Hardings? Is that what you’re calling us now?”
Brooke shrugged, helpless against the charm of his smile as she returned his grin, “The Hardings are into everything from oil to race horses, to real estate; you name it. But you’re the most visible member of the family; not to mention you’re the family businessman. Your mother is the most reclusive of all, your twin sisters seem to be all about school and your brother seems to enjoy fast cars, fast women and designer clothes.”
His grin died, “Yeah, I know. It’s my family, remember?”
Something in the way he said it niggled at the edge of her consciousness and Brook’s reporter’s instincts went on red alert. There was a story there, as surely as she knew her own name.
“So anything you want to tell me?” she asked, leaning forward and deliberately softening her features to invite confidence. She had always had a flair for getting people to relax around her and confide in her. It was one of the things that made her such a success as a reporter.
“Like what? My shoe size? You seem to know so much already, so why bother with the interview?”
A vein ticked dangerously in his forehead warning her that he was good and pissed.
“Did I say something wrong? We just want to understand you better; to see what makes you tick. We want the different facets of the man: your personality, your family life, business ideals, strategies, vacation ideas. Come on, it’s for our “Twenty Rich and Famous Bachelors of 2015” article. Not to mention, we cap it off with an event where all bachelors are auctioned off for two hours of their time with the highest bidder and all proceeds go to charity.”
His lips softened perceptibly, “You seem very passionate about this. Don’t tell me this was your brain-child...”
Brooke shrugged, “In 2012, it came to me that we had over half the world’s population living in poverty. It was a mere proposal; management ate it up and here we are. We’ve already had three successful events the last three years.”
He sighed, “When you put it like that, fine. But we won’t be here for the two weeks. It’s my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and we are all heading to Montana to celebrate. You have to come with us.”
Sheer panic floated through Brooke. She was originally from Montana and she was one of those people who literally couldn’t go home again. She had left Montana at the ripe old age of sixteen when she had run away from home and vowed never to return. Fear rose to choke her throat as she hurriedly rose to her feet before she could check the movement.
“Perhaps we could take a rain-check? Two weeks is not such a long time. I can return here for the interview when you guys are done with the celebrations,” she offered with deliberate emphasis on ‘here’, her eyes wide and innocent.
He wasn’t buying any bullshit though. She had never seen anyone look more coldly displeased than Tyler did in that moment as he regarded her steadily out of uncomfortably blank eyes.
“Ms. Jordan, I assure you, contrary to what you seem to think, I am a very busy man. I will not be sitting here wringing my hands and waiting for you to get around to conducting an interview guaranteed to help your business. Besides, I have a trip to Africa for three months right after the birthday party. So you can either come along, or get out right now.”
Brooke glared at him. She didn’t much care for his tone and she had a good mind to tell him so right before she slammed out of his life. But she just knew that if she dared that, she would have a pink slip waiting for her on her desk by the time she got back to New York. Besides, Tyler Harding was so powerful she was willing to bet her pay-check that he could guarantee she wouldn’t get a job in the States again if she angered him enough.
Everything in her revolted at the thought of Montana and the deep, dirty secrets buried there, but everything in her revolted even more at the thought of moving to a studio apartment and starting the job-hunt all over again. With a sigh, she slumped back into the seat and said with a marked lack of enthusiasm, “That settles it then. I’m all yours for the next two weeks.”
His answering grin was pure evil.