Burning Love (Lost and Found Book 3) Read online

  BURNING LOVE

  by Elizabeth Lynx

  Burning Love

  Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Lynx.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  [email protected]

  http://www.elizabeth-lynx.com

  Book and Cover design by Elizabeth Lynx

  Photography by Tverdohlib.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ELIZABETH LYNX BOOKS

  BURNING LOVE

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  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  FIND ELIZABETH LYNX

  ELIZABETH LYNX BOOKS

  Pick and choose which funny, sexy Elizabeth Lynx book scratches your reading itch.

  ENIMIES-TO-LOVERS: Cabin Fever * Idol * Burning Love * Rules of Payne

  SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE: Living Hell * The Attraction File * Happy New You

  SUPER WEALTHY/BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE: One Wild Ride * Royal Disgrace * Mogul

  OFFICE ROMANCE: Mogul * Rules of Payne * The Attraction File

  SINGLE PARENT ROMANCE: Dirty Secret * The Spy Ring * Burning Love

  MISTAKEN IDENTITY: Idol * The Spy Ring * Royal Disgrace

  ACCIDENTAL MARRIAGE/FAKE FIANCEE: The Spy Ring * Living Hell

  CELEBRITY ROMANCE: Idol * Star * Living Hell * Royal Disgrace

  PLAYBOY: Mogul * The Attraction File

  SMALL TOWN ROMANCE: Idol * Star * Mogul * Cabin Fever * Living Hell * Burning Love

  BIG CITY ROMANCE: Dirty Secret * Happy New You * Rules of Payne * The Attraction File * One Wild Ride * The Spy Ring * Royal Disgrace

  SERIES BOX SET: Cake Love * Price of Fame

  BURNING LOVE

  She always worked alone. He refused to trust anyone with his business. One road trip later and they’d be at each other’s throats... making out.

  If Bea Love did one thing well, it was landing any client no matter how much they put up a fight. She was charming but tough, smart but always willing to do what was best for the client. She won them over every time.

  Until she met the most stubborn, overly demanding, and sexiest man of her life. Spending the next few weeks with him would be tough but the worst part–trying not to drool over his arms.

  There’s one thing Mica Angrov knew to be true, outsiders weren’t trustworthy. He had a perfectly good business in a small town selling his coffee beans to local businesses. It kept a roof over his family’s head and let him help raise his niece.

  When a beautiful woman from the city showed up in his home ready to make him an offer too good to be true, he took one look at her and kicked her out. He realized he made a mistake when a doctor explained his niece needed help. He needed that money from the flashy deal the city woman promised for his niece.

  After agreeing to travel hundreds of miles and spend weeks with her to land the deal he wondered if the trip would be one big disaster? Or would he end up giving her multiple orgasms like he kept dreaming about?

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  Make sure you get the BONUS SCENE for Cabin Fever + SNEAK PEEK of Ruining the Billionaire’s Wedding, the start of the Blue Mountain Billionaires series when you sign up for my free author newsletter ⇨ https://geni.us/CFHoneymoonRTBW

  ONE

  Bea

  “What happens in my dad’s office, stays in my dad’s office.” I winked at Ms. Jackson. Her reddening cheeks captured the attention of my gaze.

  She licked her bottom lip and sighed. “I know it’s so bad. But sometimes I can’t help myself.”

  With the strength of a cat watching a mouse struggle under its paw, I bit back my smirk and nodded. “Go on. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  She leaned forward, and I focused on her hand as she reached for the silky, gold-covered, plump morsel.

  With the clink of the carrot charm on her bracelet as it struck the crystal, she plucked the foil-wrapped chocolate from my dad’s candy dish.

  Both our eyes darted toward the door. We were still alone. She sighed in relief while I held my breath.

  “I have such a sweet tooth. I fully admit,” she popped the round candy into her mouth and bit down with a moan, “I’m a chocoholic and a coffeeholic. Anything with sugar and caffeine. Ha,” Ms. Jackson garbled out while chewing on the sweet treat.

  I nodded as if I could relate. It was all part of the plan, and it was going smoothly.

  The plan didn’t involve me relating to her about chocolate or sweets of any kind. Chocolate was not my thing. Eating for me was a necessity, not something I did for pleasure. Now coffee I could relate to that, but that wasn’t why I was here.

  My twin sister, Olivia, ate for pleasure. Now that she lived on the side of a mountain in Maine and not at home in Washington, DC with our parents, she had been eating lots of bacon and hash browns.

  Olivia might need an intervention, but perhaps it was the cool, clear mountain air that turned her food savage?

  I was a city girl. My city-developed brain couldn’t comprehend these pan-fried food cravings. I understood chocolate to a degree—it was sweet and creamy. I knew a lot of cityfied people who ate chocolate like it was life-giving oxygen.

  But greasy diner food wasn’t something that people who wanted to get ahead in the world ate on a regular basis. My ultimate goal in life was to run my father’s business one day. Like how Olivia craved artery-clogging food, I salivated over thoughts of sitting behind that monstrous, old-fashioned mahogany desk of his like an oil baron from the turn of the twentieth century.

  Would I be forced to smoke a cigar? I hoped not.

  But that was my plan. Not taking up smoking but proving to my father that I was perfect for the future of his company. That I could land him a much sought-after client before he even entered the room.

  Eight years ago, when I turned twenty-one, right after graduating from my university, I interviewed and got an entry-level job at my father’s company. He may not have believed in me, but within five years, I was running the marketing department.

  My father was old-fashioned and not in a good way. He was my dad, and despite his outdated thoughts on so many things—including his own daughter—I still loved him.

  Did his loving son, Konrad, have to work his way up in the company? No. Konrad was given a cushy management position the day after he graduated.

  But was I bitter? Oh, you better believe I was upset. I may be one of the youngest of my dad’s eight children, but I was the smartest, the most hard-working. And if the bond Ms. Jackson and I had formed in the last five minutes was any indication, the most charming.

  Perfect for running a multi-billion-dollar business.

  “There
’s a particular type of coffee I can’t get enough of. They only sell it in a small town in Maine. I’m addicted,” I gushed as I patted her arm, taking advantage of our newly formed friendship over food.

  She lifted a perfectly manicured black eyebrow. “Really? I do love coffee. Where in Maine?”

  The coffee affection was true. It was the only thing that I sucked on that I loved. Well, the second most adored thing I savored. The first was cock, but I didn’t think Ms. Jackson was a close enough friend to discuss that in my father’s home office, yet.

  “I’ll tell you what. When my father comes in, you tell him you’d love to sell your family’s produce to our stores in the Del-Mar-Va region, and I’ll gift you my last bag of the dirty blend.”

  Her pale-painted pink lips frowned, which I knew wasn’t a good sign. Despite her unhappy face, it was her fingers that gave her away. They twisted around themselves like a neon sign telling me Ms. Jackson was considering my offer.

  I knew my father wanted the Jackson Family Farm produce for his locally grown section of our regional stores. I also knew he was planning to offer her way more for those fruits and vegetables than they were worth.

  I had studied the locally grown market, which had been trending up in the past decade, though it was a slow rise. My father counted on a spike. It was part of his revamping of his stores—make them more community friendly.

  As much as I loved the community idea for the store, I knew they would take time to produce a hearty enough profit.

  “Look,” I glanced back toward the closed dark wooden door and lowered my voice, “I shouldn’t be doing this, and my father won’t be happy, but how about if Love Foods offers you this for your produce.”

  I grabbed the blue Post-It note pad and wrote down a low-ball figure—much lower than my dad planned to offer.

  Sliding the pad of paper toward her, I watched as her dark brown eyes widened.

  It was more than she was expecting.

  “Now, this is just a temporary price. Don’t think you would be locked in. I know other companies might be giving more, but we’re a family business, and you have a family business. She bit her lip and kept her gaze on the paper.

  Now it was time to play the part needed to land the deal.

  I stood, and after a big sigh, I turned toward the door.

  “It was wrong of me to do that without my father. Let me go get him, and we can work with—” I was stopped by a hand on my arm and the loud thwack of a powder-blue upholstered chair hitting the floor.

  “No. I mean.” She let go of my arm and cleared her throat. “As long as it’s not a binding contract . . . A year you say?”

  I nodded while clasping my hand, waiting for the inevitable yes.

  “I think a trial period of a year is perfect.”

  Right as I was about to shake Ms. Jackson’s hand, the door flew open in the usual startling way my father had with entering a room.

  “I do apologize for my delay, Ms. Jackson. I wasn’t feeling my best this morning. I do hope my daughter was helpful in answering your questions.”

  He reached over and shook her hand before waving for her to take a seat. She moved toward the chair, picked it up, and relaxed back into it with glazed eyes.

  “Very much, yes.” She smiled as if I just gave her the best orgasm in the world. And a part of me believed I had.

  My father nodded but slid his eyes toward me in uncertainty. He watched me as he moved behind his desk and sat.

  I raised my chin, and with a smug smile, knowing I had satisfied one person today, I walked over to my father’s desk and placed the Post-It in front of him.

  “What’s this?” He lifted the blue paper and furrowed his brow.

  “The first-year price Ms. Jackson and I agreed on for her family farm to sell their produce to our stores.”

  “But it’s so . . . Uh, you did this, Bea?” My father looked up at me with a mix of confusion and something else I had never seen in his eyes before. It was either admiration or constipation. I knew my father enough to accept that it was the latter.

  “Oh, yes, she did. Now that is the price we agreed on. And, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a bag of coffee in the deal as well.”

  I nodded.

  Ms. Jackson stood, and I watched as she wrapped her hand around most of the chocolates in my father’s dish, taking them with her. She found her purse on the floor and shoved the candies inside.

  That woman’s addiction was bad.

  “Just draw up the paperwork and send it over. I’ll have my lawyer look it over. If it’s good, I’ll sign it and have it back to you by the end of the week.”

  My father, still a bit shocked, stood and nodded. I showed her toward the door and asked Jacoby, my father’s assistant, who had a smaller version of my father’s desk just outside the door if he would grab the bag of coffee for Ms. Jackson. I made sure he added it to my coffee-extravaganza basket.

  I liked making baskets for people to brighten their day. I made sure I always had one made up and at the ready wherever I went. Surprising, a stranger with a basket of goodies was fun and gave them something to smile about. You just never knew who needed a little bit of cheer.

  Once I knew she was taken care of, I made my way back into my father’s office, ready for the praise I had earned.

  Not only had I landed the deal my father had been working on for the past month, but I saved him money in the process.

  He would be a fool not to make me next in line to take over.

  Taking a deep breath and patting my shoulder, I opened the door to my father’s office with a smile.

  What I found inside was the opposite of what I had expected.

  Not only was my father frowning and yelling into the phone to Konrad about getting his ass over here now, but when his hazel eyes darted up to meet mine, his face grew red.

  It was already red from the screaming, but it looked like the inside of a red velvet cake now. All I had to do was slather cream cheese frosting on his bald head, and I was sure Ms. Jackson would ask for a bite.

  “Beatrice Christina Lotus Love, get in here and sit down. Now!”

  It was my turn to be confused and possibly a little constipated. Why was my father angry? Was he planning to offer her less than what I had written down? I saw the paperwork yesterday. It had a figure that was ten thousand dollars more unless he changed it in the last twelve hours.

  I did as my father requested. He may be a blow-hard and a sexist, but he was still my father, and furthermore, my boss.

  He slammed the phone down. It was one of those black old-fashioned push-button phones, the kind you see in old television shows.

  My father was still very much stuck in the twentieth century.

  “What gave you the right to strike a deal with my client?” He leaned over the desk filled with a now-empty crystal dish, one crystal framed photo of my mother in Italy, a legal pad, pencil, and the phone.

  “But I work for Love Foods, too. Technically, she was our client.”

  He straightened and rubbed his face, which was now pinker than blood-red. “I admit, Bea, for a woman, you’re smart.”

  I did my best not to roll my eyes. I told you, sexist. “Thank you,” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

  “But this was my deal to make. I don’t care how good you are at flirting your way into winning a deal.”

  “What? That’s not—” I held up my hand, but my father cut me off.

  “You got charm, Bea. But it takes much more than that to run a company. Don’t think I don’t understand why you wanted to sit in on this meeting today.”

  For once, I was silent. He knew. Maybe that’s why he was “sick” this morning. He could trick me into screwing something up. Well, I showed him by landing the deal.

  That’s why he’s angry. He wanted me to fail. My own father hated that I was better at this than Konrad. I was better than him.

  I stood and folded my arms. The door opened behind me, but I didn’t bother to look. I k
new it was Konrad. My father’s assistant was too smart to interrupt a meeting when my dad was angry.

  “That’s it. No matter how good I am. No matter how smart or how many amazing deals I land for this company, you won’t even consider me for taking over.”

  All because I was born with a vagina. I wanted to say that part out loud so badly, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew it would only make things worse.

  My father sighed, and the tears at the corner of my eyes began to burn.

  “Yes, Bea, I’ve told you that many times. Konrad is meant to take over.” He waved a hand toward the person behind me.

  My half-brother Konrad. The only male child that showed any interest in the business.

  I loved Konrad but hated that he easily got my father’s attention by just walking into the room. I had to plan and practically throw myself in front of a limo to get my father to even say hi to me.

  I laughed too loudly but had zero fucks left to give. “Of course. Why would a smart, hard-working, business savvy person ever expect to succeed at this company?” I turned and shoved past my brother, who appeared as uncomfortable as my new Italian leather shoes felt.

  Right after I opened the door, but before I stepped out, I turned to let my dad have it. I knew he would punish me for it. While he’d never fire me, he would make sure I hated work for the next month or two.

  If I was going to be punished, I might as well earn it.

  “I know why. Because the person doesn’t have a big ol’ honking dick—”

  My brother grabbed me and pushed me out, slamming the door behind me.

  “Get your gargantuan meat-paws off me, Konrad.” I drug myself back like a teenager in the throes of a meltdown.