He reared his head back at her words. “What the bloody hell is wrong with everyone today?” Attacking his leadership skills, questioning his ability to be civil. Iain could do civil…when he put his mind to it. “I’ll be myself, thank you. If you don’t like it, sod off, Ames.”

She wagged her finger. “Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. Do the opposite of that.” When she disappeared through the door, he faced the window and looked out at his three-million-dollar view. Three-point-two-five, if one wanted to be technical. And when it came to money, Iain was always technical.

The morning sun slanted through the tinted window. If he stood at the right angle, he could catch a glimpse of jagged brown mountains in the distance. The palm trees lining the street below swayed in the breeze, reminding him that he was in the middle of a desert. He never grew tired of seeing this. Nothing in Vegas was real—it was all a facade. The buildings, the people—all transitory. And Iain loved every bloody bit of it.

He heard the door open, and after a long pause, close. Her footsteps were hesitant and light across the gold onyx floor.

“Hello.” Her voice was soft, feminine. Young.

Iain slowly turned, a smile fixed on his face. But as he locked eyes on Brynn Campbell, unexpected desire slammed into his gut like a sucker punch. The pictures in Iain’s file didn’t do her justice. Ames had called her pretty, which was also inadequate. Bloody gorgeous more like.

Iain thought he knew everything about Brynn Hope Campbell, from her shopping habits to her tax returns. He knew what hobbies she favored and the classes she’d taken in college. But nothing had prepared him for meeting her in the flesh.

His gaze moved over her, taking in her slight frame. Then his eyes swept over her again. And a third time. With every pass, he noticed something different. The color of her hair wasn’t merely brown—it was tobacco brown with burnished gold highlights. Her eyes weren’t ordinary blue—they were navy. She wore leather flip-flops. Her toenails were varnished the same shade as her turquoise necklace. She carried a black binder in one hand, like a schoolgirl.

Lightly tanned, her skin glowed along high, smooth cheekbones. Her features were dainty, fragile—a lovely setting for those big, dark eyes. Her chin drew to a sharp point below a mouth that was too wide for such a delicate face. Innocent. The word floated through Iain’s mind, but he immediately banished it. No one was innocent—not in this town.

Brynn was on the petite side, but her legs appeared long and slender. The white, loose blouse flowed over her torso, skimming her small tits. The V-shaped collar left her neck and throat bare. Iain’s gaze fell to the wedge of visible golden skin. He wanted to see more. No, that wasn’t true. Iain was a greedy bastard—he wanted to see everything.

She’d pulled her wavy hair into a low ponytail, but a lone curl refused to be confined and brushed against her jaw. She appeared almost fey. A wisp of a woman who might blow away with the gentlest breeze.

And he needed to focus.

He moved toward her and buttoned his jacket, keeping his gaze trained on her. “I’m Iain Chapman.”

“You’re British.” She made it sound like an accusation.

“Observant, aren’t you?”

She opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. Taking a breath, she tried again. “I try to be. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Chapman. My name’s Brynn Campbell.” She stared at his silver tie like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. She was timid, but he found that charming. And for the first time, doubt robbed him of his certainty. Was this was the right course of action? A simple introduction to Trevor Blake, that’s all he was after. Right?

“Call me Iain. I’ve been told I require a management makeover. Are you the woman to give me what I need?” He hadn’t intended the innuendo, but he didn’t apologize for it either.

Her gaze fluttered from his throat to his eyes. “I’m not sure. To be honest, I’m not really a teacher. I just write the curriculum.”

He knew that, of course. Had paid Cassandra Delaney a few thousand extra to have Brynn teach the class personally. “I’m not much of a student, so I’d say we’re well matched.” When her eyes swept over his face, he smiled. But Brynn didn’t smile back, as most women would. In fact, she stared at him with a faint frown on her generous lips.

Well, this was new. Iain was used to women flirting with him. And he wasn’t foolish enough to believe they were attracted to his delightful personality. Although he did all right in the looks department, his face wasn’t what lured women, either. No, Iain’s main draw was his fat bank account. He was fine with that. Made things simpler. Everyone walked away happy. There were no expectations, no fuss. No emotional ties.

But this woman wasn’t acting like the others, and he couldn’t say why that intrigued him so much.

Brynn Campbell wasn’t his type at all, and yet he was utterly enchanted by her. She didn’t wear her sexuality like armor. She was small, nearly flat-chested, and dressed as if she were attending a music festival rather than a business meeting. With copper bracelets stacked on her slender wrist, she wore tattered jeans and very little makeup. And the way she watched him with those wide, wary eyes…

When he took a step toward her, she tensed. What did she think, he was going to make a lunge for her? He never dreamed she’d be so skittish. Or that he’d find it so compelling. Something in the way she tensed like prey made him feel very much the predator.

He found he liked that feeling quite a lot.

A knock sounded at the door and Amelia peered in. “Would you like some tea, Miss Campbell?”

Brynn glanced over her shoulder. “That would nice, thank you.”

While she was looking away, Iain took the opportunity to study her breasts. The blouse was deceptively sheer. Tilting his head, he tried to see through the crinkly material, but he couldn’t even detect the outline of her bra. It was maddening and enticing at the same time. As soon as Ames shut the door, Brynn faced him again. And caught him staring.

Swallowing audibly, she raised the black binder, clutching it to her chest and blocking his view. “Why don’t we get started?” she asked.

“Yes, why don’t we?”

She stared at him for a beat, then Brynn squared her shoulders and stuck one hand in her purse. She pulled out a pen, and opened her book to the front page.

Iain tried to get a peek at what she jotted down, but she snapped the notebook closed before he could read it. “Are you taking notes on me, love?”

Brynn angled her head to look up at him. “If I were your employee, your suggestive glances might be considered actionable.”

“Actionable, how? Like we’d clear the desk and have at it?”

Her brows drew together and formed a small V. “That comment would definitely qualify as actionable.”

He leaned down, caught a whiff of perfume—vanilla and something floral. “Pretend you never heard it.” Iain breathed her in. Absolutely delicious.

Her lips had parted slightly, but she didn’t move away. Brynn Campbell might be wary, but she was also interested.

“The key to running a successful business,” she whispered, “is keeping a professional attitude. Sniffing me probably isn’t professional.”

“And here I thought the key to running a successful business was making money. Shows how fucking little I know, eh?”

“Do you always use that language?” Brynn opened her notebook and scribbled again. “With employees, I mean.”

“Yeah. I don’t believe in censoring myself.” He still hadn’t moved away, was still leaning toward her. Her shallow breaths caused her chest to rapidly rise and fall, and that became the focus of Iain’s attention. Her breasts were so tiny, he’d be able to suck on the whole damn thing. The thought made his mouth water.