Free Kissing the Tycoon by Dominique Eastwick

Chapter One
    B one weary and none too pleased, Barret Briggs climbed out of the limo his brother had sent to the airport for him. But before he could head to the office to pick up his truck and then home, a driver greeted him with a note and a garment bag.
If you ever want to see your truck again, meet me at the Hyatt and wear your tux.
—Chandler
    So now his brother held his only means of transport hostage, and if a tux was involved, it meant he was using it as leverage to get Barret to attend some high class, overpriced, pretentious function. All Barret wanted in his jet-lagged state was a pillow and a bed, preferably his pillow. It had been weeks since he’d been home, and now his damned brother wanted to make him wait longer.
    Cursing like a dock worker, Barret let the bitter cold Boston air singe his lungs. The pain gave him a jolt of energy. After fifteen hours in flight, his first thought was to pull out his check book and give money to whatever charity he was here to support and then beat the keys out of his brother if necessary. He’d learned a long time ago that at these events, as long as you threw your money their way, no one cared if you were there or not.
    Once upon a time, he thought money could also buy happiness. After all, his parents fought and eventually divorced because of the lack of it. So in his mind, having it would mean the opposite. But the more he made, the lonelier he became. The only woman he wanted to share his money with became more distant as his bank account grew. Now he had everything he could ever want except the one thing he needed—Riley Sherman.
    “There you are.” The familiar voice of his brother cut through his musings. “Wow, you’re quick. Already changed and all.”
    “I changed in the car,” he returned, hoping the evil eye would encourage Chandler to relent and hand over his keys.
    “Here’s your ticket to the ball.”
    No such luck. With a sigh he grabbed the ticket. “What’s the charity?”
    “Downtown woman’s shelter for abused and battered women and children.”
    Well, at least it was a worthy cause. It didn’t make him less angry, but it did take the edge off. Stifling a yawn, he followed his brother into the ballroom, refusing the flute of champagne offered from a passing waiter. “You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee?”
    “Of course, sir. Just tell me your table number and I will bring it right over.”
    “Seven,” Chandler supplied, ushering them through the crowd and a sea of white-covered round tables until they reached the one with their number elegantly displayed amidst the floral arrangement. “You look dead on your feet.”
    “You think?”
    “I know you hate these things. Now don’t raise your eyebrows at me.” His brother chuckled, grabbing a stuffed mushroom from the passing waiter and shoving it whole into his mouth. Some things money couldn’t buy, and class, when it came to his brother, was one of them.
    “So why make me come? You know all I wanted was to climb into my own bed.”
    “Alone?”
    “Yes, damn it.”
    “You want the honest answer?”
    “No, Chandler, I want you to lie.”
    “You need to get out more. Before you argue, hear me out. You spend all your time working and never socializing. When you aren’t working, you’re up at that house of yours fixing it up. Alone. ”
    “Hardly alone. The guys come over for poker nights.”
    “They don’t count.”
    He knew arguing with that logic would get him nowhere, so he switched tracks. “So you thought blackmailing me into coming tonight would make me more sociable.”
    “Blackmail seems a bit harsh, don’t you think”
    “What in the hell would you call it then?”
    “Holding your car hostage.”
    Unable to hold back his laughter, Barret clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Yeah, grand theft auto is always so much better.”
    “I haven’t taken it across the state lines yet. It’s just that since ‘she’ left…”
    “She?”
    “Barret, you know