Stolen Read online

  Stolen

  A Sizzling Billionaire Romance Novel

  By

  Brooksley Borne

  Copyright 2019 by Brooksley Borne

  Other Titles by Brooksley Borne:

  Magic House

  The Landlord

  The Guardian

  The Rescue

  He Tamed Her

  Not Such a Bad Girl

  Primal Moon

  Playing For Real

  No Cop at Night

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter One

  A long day was an understatement. Janie stood in the dark in front of the cherry wood bureau feeling every bit of the hard work she put in, in every inch of her body. For the past five years, she occupied the guest house six months out of the year while her employers, the Wylers left her alone while they skied in Switzerland. She knew the place well enough to undress in the dark, which was what she was doing but still, it felt like she was visiting; like she was bunking in a hotel instead of unwinding in her own place.

  “I need a life,” she muttered aloud though there was no one else there to hear her.

  She plucked off the pearl clip-ons that Mrs. Wyler lent her, Wyler heirlooms that she wore to get the job done. Janie was trusted with the combination to Mrs. Wyler’s walk-in jewelry vault, which made her a little uncomfortable. Today had been a day she needed to crack that vault; she needed power jewelry.

  She spent the day cleaning up the spilt milk of the Wyler family. Harry Wyler, the last of the Wyler brood, stayed behind in California and didn’t join the family to ski, so he could finish his sophomore year at San Jose State. Harry was in his early twenties, not much younger than Janie, set to transfer to Stanford just down the road from the Wyler mansion.

  The-not-so-young Mr. Wyler was old enough to handle his own messes. He faced expulsion for taking on an unauthorized roommate, an underaged girl at his dorm. Janie, who was usually nothing more than a glorified house sitter, was dispatched to smooth over the situation.

  She had not interacted much with Harry since before he left for the wilds of Wales and other parts of Europe, then on to school. Her systems were racing, slightly fear driven, because with all the trouble he had been in. She felt he was a little dangerous. There was a negligible difference in their ages. He was a grown man, not a kid who needed a nanny.

  While there were plenty of affluent families in northern California, the Wylers attracted their fair share of gold diggers. Harry didn’t say outright that the underaged girl was after his money but the suggestion was there. Mercifully, he stayed out of the way and let Janie smooth things over for him. It had been an exhausting day.

  In the dark with just a small spill of light from outside to help her see, all the words of the day spun in her head. She had been condescended to by the Wylers and the president of San Jose State. The ingrate Harry Wyler didn’t even bother to show for the meeting.

  His absence reminded Janie that her life was hollow and that she was a maid basically, trash in borrowed Armani. But thanks to her, Harry’s precious lifepath remained unmarred. She was free to return to the guest house.

  Janie paused at the dresser wondering who she was. The job sounded really cool at first. According to Mrs. Wyler, as her assistant, she would mingle with the rich and powerful, and network. The job was presented as a stepping stone.

  “Who knew what that could bring?” Mrs. Wyler suggested when she was first hired

  And as part of the family, Janie had traveled to Maui when they went, to Switzerland when they went. Now that all kids were grown and on their own, except Harry, she was left behind to stay in any of their immense sprawling mansions – rotating from San Francisco to San Jose to La Jolla to Beverly Hills, to Chicago and New York just to keep the dust company. Janie’s personal life dwindled. Even though she had no real duty except to tend to the occasional drama, she was never free to hang out with friends. Her life now was a piece of the Wyler’s furniture.

  She picked up a picture she kept on the dresser, of a friend from home and her, and stared at it with a mix of fondness and regret. She pressed her fingertips to her the bridge of her nose and wept. She was beginning to believe all the things that she heard about herself that day. Everyone she interacted with had been abusive for sport. Every person in the meeting today knew what the outcome was going to be – that Harry was going to walk – they just spent all day grinding her into the dirt first. Janie had had it. She had to formulate a plan to start over at nearly thirty with not so much as a savings account or a stick of furniture of her own. She played with the pearls in the palm of her hand.

  “I’ll take those,” said a warm, rich voice.

  A potent mix of adrenaline and arousal coursed through her like hot lava. That was some voice. It was so alluring; she wasn’t terrified exactly. Maybe she was in denial that there as a strange man in the guest house with her because she wasn’t scrambling for a weapon or trying to make a break for it.

  Out of reflex Janie put her hands behind her back to shield the jewelry from the masked intruder. Just enough light flowed into the room from the security lamp to illuminate his magnificent eyes, which were all that was exposed by his cover. They held her, entranced her as he easily snaked his arm around her to the small of her back. He emanated an incredible warmth that was medicine after such a terrible day.

  “Nice try,” he said smoothly.

  They almost hugged, he was so close to her. He fished for her hand but she refused to give up the goods. She didn’t know why; she didn’t even like her employers. The burglar braced her, taking her in his arms like they were about to dance. In a quick move and before she could sneak a peek of his face, he lowered his mask and captured her mouth with his.

  Janie went limp in his embrace. Her mind blurred everything out except for the wondrous feeling of his tongue now mating with hers. She was ravenous. She clutched his head, her thumb holding the earrings in place against her palm. She raked her fingers through his hair and began swimming his delicious form, touching him, trying to consume as much of him as possible.

  But she would not relax her hold on Mrs. Wyler’s earrings. He reached for her hand, firmly pressing into a pressure point until she magically let go. His solid chest mashed the plushness of her breast.

  “Very nice,” he said measuredly as his eyes swept her, “try.”

  Janie sucked in her breath. She thought she would faint. This was all wrong being utterly turned on by a masked guy who could hurt her really, if she wasn’t kidding herself. He held the earrings up to the light and then dropped them in a bag.

  “Let me have your cell phone and your car keys,” he ordered gently.

  “Why?” she demanded coyly.

  He made a face at her as if it wasn’t obvious why. He stooped down so they were face to face. Janie longed to see the rest of his face. She resisted the urge to tug the mask and reveal the lips that had just kissed her.

  “It’s either that,” he replied patiently, “or I tie you up. So, start thinking about where you’ll be most comfortable because if I have to ask you for the phone again, you won’t get a choice.”

  “Oh, don’t tie
me up,” she responded urgently. “No one would find me for months.”

  She realized immediately she said too much. His eyes lit up.

  “Oh really?” he asked. “Why is that?”

  Janie had the feeling he already knew the answer to that.

  “No reason,” she said, somewhat defeated. “My cell phone is in my purse; my keys are on that hook by the door.”

  He rummaged her purse. He removed her wallet, eyed it and then put it back. He took only her phone.

  “I’ve already disabled the land line and killed the internet. I am taking a risk here by not tying you up. Don’t make me regret it,” he said.

  Then he swept into her like he was about to tango with her.

  “Because if I regret it, so will you,” he whispered. “Now close your eyes.”

  She didn’t believe him for a minute, not the way he was looking at her. She knew he was toying with her but she really liked it.

  He requested politely, “Please give me a head start before you call the cops when you figure out a way to do that. Remember – close your eyes.”

  He paused to kiss her again.

  “Keep them closed,” he whispered.

  Janie did as she was told and waited until she heard the door closed. When she finally opened them, she hit the lights. There on the bureau was his masked. She kept the lights on and double checked all the doors and windows. She would notify the police in the morning. She tucked the mask under her pillow before she lay down in her bed by herself.

  Chapter Two

  Janie slept in. As long as Harry Wyler didn’t act up again, it was conceivable she wouldn’t hear from her employers until the end of spring, some eight months away. She dressed for a jog and headed to the main house to take her morning coffee. She decided she was in no hurry to report the robbery, not so much because the burglar was incredibly sexy but because she didn’t like the Wylers or their world. What was one pair of earrings out of a vault of jewels? They didn’t need them or deserve them.

  She opened her front door of the guest cottage to a beautiful bouquet of cut flowers that looked remarkably similar to the ones growing in the Wylers’ watercolor garden. She so hoped the flowers were from the Wylers’ garden and that the burglar had stolen those too. She lifted the bunch, wrapped with parchment and a sweet, lilac colored ribbon, and out tumbled her phone and her keys. Janie grinned from ear to ear. She had to love a guy who stole from the rich and gave her flowers.

  She brought them to the main house kitchen and set them in a vase. She tied the ribbon that bound the bunch, around her ponytail. She could not stop smiling. She stepped into the walk-in pantry, helping herself to a delicious Italian ground. She brewed one of the best cups of coffee she had in a very long time.

  Janie knew there was something seriously wrong with a woman who liked the fact that she was kissed by a B&E guy. For that fact, there was no one she could share experience with, except for the guy himself. Janie recalled a random fact that most burglaries are committed by someone familiar to the victim. From that point forward, she already could tell, every man she was to encounter would be scrutinized to see if she recognized him as her kissing bandit.

  She was prepared to come back for the flowers after her jog, and take them to her cottage where they belonged. Just as she was about to step outside to what was shaping up to be a spectacular spring morning, her phone rang. She recognized the number and her entire body stiffened anxiously. It was her boss.

  “Good morning Mrs. Wyler,” she answered, forcing herself to be polite.

  “Why would you bid me a good morning, Jane,” snipped Mrs. Wyler, “when you know perfectly well it’s approaching the dinner hour here? Oh well never mind. I need you to go speak to a Mr. Colin Morrissey. He is the father of the urchin Harry, um, associated with. Morrissey has threatened to press charges against Harry and if that fails, a civil suit.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have one of your lawyers talk to him?” Janie suggested.

  Her question was met with a long, icy pause that followed.

  “I am happy to assist in any way I can,” added Janie reluctantly.

  “Thank you,” said Mrs. Wyler. “I’ll send his contact information. Certainly, if you can’t charm him into forgetting his nonsensical schemes then we’ll take other action.”

  “Charm him?” she asked.

  Her eyelids fluttered with rage. Janie knew what Mrs. Wyler proposed had nothing to do with charm. The woman meant to throw her as bait to the irate father of the girl Harry debauched. Besides, Harry Wyler was old enough to fend for himself.

  “Does this man know I am coming?” Janie asked tensely.

  It was closest she had ever come to raising her voice to Mrs. Wyler and she was actually on the verge of just quitting right then and there. She didn’t get paid enough to charm anyone.

  “Oh yes,” said Mrs. Wyler with a smile in her voice. “I have sung your praises. Let me know how it turns out.”

  Before she could respond, Mrs. Wyler hung up. Janie’s fabulous mood was all but ruined. She didn’t bother to change out of her spandex leggings for the meeting, arranged without her consent. She texted the girl’s father to let him know she was on her way. Mercifully he lived in Palo Alto and not all the way down in San Jose, near Harry’s college. Janie was surprised; she got an immediate response.

  “Looking forward to it,” he wrote back.

  “I’m sure you are,” she murmured sarcastically.

  She was going to show him “looking forward to it.” She was going to show them all. Janie decided she would tell the Wylers where to put their job by making an example of this whoever-he-was. If they thought for one moment, she was going to be someone’s bargaining chip for not pressing charges, they were going to finally learn who they were dealing with.

  Janie entered the address into her phone and headed over. She noted the mileage. It was pretty close but still, she was going to charge the Wylers for every inch of the trip even if it was only minutes away.

  She meandered through the hills of Woodside over towards the university. Colin Morrissey lived in the older Palo Alto development down the street from Stanford University, a distinctly upscale part of town. Palo Alto was split into two parts: East Palo Alto, which was an ultra-poor and dangerous barrio, and the Stanford end of Embarcadero, where the earth sprouted old, stately mansions.

  Colin’s place wasn’t on the ridiculous scale of the Wylers’ estate but it was grand nonetheless. Janie guessed he was probably a professor at the university or a scientist or something although Mrs. Wyler was such a stickler on decorum that she would have called him Dr. Morrissey if that were the case. Janie envisioned an underweight, nerdish man in a sweater, showing the signs of middle age.

  She parked haphazardly in front of his house, disregarding the permit only parking sign and charged up the walk. She noted again she was dressed for the gym not for a meeting but she didn’t care. She hurt herself knocking on the solid wood door. A very attractive older woman answered. She looked so pleasant; Janie didn’t have the heart to be short with her. She would save it for Colin Morrissey.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Morrissey,” Janie said in her business voice.

  “Miss Jordan?” asked the woman softly.

  “Yes,” replied Janie, melting under the woman’s kind demeanor. “He’s expecting me.”

  “Won’t you come in?” she asked.

  As Janie followed the assistant through the house that smelled of fresh-baked gingerbread, another attractive woman wearing an industrial apron and oven mitts crossed their path to place a pan in the window sill to cool. Colin Morrissey definitely gave the impression that he liked to surround himself with beautiful women.

  As they reached the office door, the assistant asked, “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

  “No thanks I won’t be here that long,” replied Janie with fake charm.

  Colin Morrissey stood with his back to the door, fussing with his plants li
ke an eccentric. His office was furnished with second generation pieces – definitely handed down. The office was surprisingly messy, not meticulously tidy like the rest of his home. He turned to acknowledge the two women.

  Janie stood like drooling idiot, so surprised that she was way off base in her guess about him. He was no underweight nerd with bad fashion sense; he was built like a Stanford linebacker. He was definitely older than she was but younger than either Mr. and Mrs. Morrissey. He was gorgeous.

  He had the most sensual, soft curling hair that she could imagine slicked back at the side if he were wearing a tux, which he would totally rock. The thought crossed her mind like a burglar itself if he could be her kissing bandit. Of course, he wasn’t; he caught her staring at which he raised his brows.

  “Thanks, Kellie,” he said, excusing his assistant.

  He looked Janie straight in the eye. She faltered. She checked him out for any hint of similarity to her bandit. There was no way; a rich guy like him didn’t need to rob houses. But Janie enjoyed the notion.

  “Something wrong?” he asked with spark of mischief in his eye. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied icily.

  Despite her chilly demeanor he extended his hand to her.

  “Colin Morrissey,” he said.

  “Jane Jordan,” she replied.

  She touched his hand. The contact gave her secret pleasure. He stepped past her and closed the door. She stopped him.

  “I’d rather have it opened,” she insisted.

  He looked very confused. His closeness, though not inappropriate, made her feel weak.

  “And I’d rather not have the house hear my personal business,” he said.

  “If your staff is worth what you pay them, they already know your personal business,” she replied with a smile.

  He couldn’t find anything to say. He simply closed the door anyway.

  “Do you know the reason why I agreed to meet you, Ms. Jordan?” he asked.

  “Yes,” replied Janie bluntly. “This is what I do. When one of the Wyler children gets into a jam, it’s my job to smooth things over. And Mrs. Wyler intimated to me how exactly I am to smooth things over and I can tell you that is off the table.”