Tame The Kitten

By Bianca Mori

Girl gets off cab, boy nearly runs her over.

Kit Torres can't believe her awful luck when she's assigned to babysit a motorcycling superstar for her boss. But sexy sparks fly when he teaches her all about the finer aspects of control. Can Kit keep her cool when the race starts to heat up?

Fab Magnani lives on the edge of disaster -- he makes a good living out of it as a pro racer. Will his instincts for squeezing out of danger serve him when he comes face to face with an Puerto Rican spitfire who takes an instant dislike to him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bianca Mori
• Release date: Dec 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311721167

Bianca Mori

Bianca Mori writes contemporary romances, romantic suspense and crime fiction set in the Philippines, Asia, Europe, the United States and all points in between. Her steamy stories have been called "fast-paced and super-hot," "engaging," "vivid" and "engrossing." She lives in Manila with her family and a hyperactive pug. Find Bianca on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram as thebiancamori or at her website (www.biancamori.com).

Book preview

Tame the Kitten

By Bianca Mori

Tame the Kitten

By Bianca Mori

This is a work of fiction. Settings, names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events and characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, excepting brief quotes used in connection with reviews written specifically for a newspaper, blog, magazine or other related media.

Copyright© Bianca Mori 2014

Cover art copyright © Tania Arpa (http://taniaarpa.com)

Girl gets off cab, boy nearly runs her over.

Kit Torres can't believe her awful luck when she's assigned to babysit a motorcycling superstar for her boss. But sparks fly when he teaches her all about the finer aspects of control. Can Kit keep her cool when the race starts to heat up?

Chapter 1

Interlude

Dude, dude, dude!

Tamara Healy looked up from the reception desk and fixed the speaker -- a short, skinny, toothy blonde bro horsing around with his taller version -- a death stare.

You'll never guess who wants a one-on-one with me ta-day!Nine aye to the em, huzzah!

It was no use. She'd been executive assistant to the human resources director as well as administration manager with Cutler & Channing for close to six years (in a career that spanned a couple of decades, total), but the minute she stepped behind the C&C lobby desk to cover for the sick receptionist, she turned invisible once again.

It was irritating, but then invisible receptionists heard everything.

Who, man? Stacy? replied Taller Bro. Shorter Bro shook his head so quick she thought it would whip off his neck.The hottie from marketing? Liz? Come on man, spill!

Shorter Bro grinned, all teeth, and waggled his eyebrows in reply.

Taller Bro's face fell. "Oh no.No, man. Don't tell me."

Shorter Bro body-checked the other guy. Yeah man! C&C Eva Mendez!

Taller Bro became serious and held him by the shoulders. Dude. Dude! What did you do?

Shorter Bro faltered, smile dimming. What do you mean?

Duuuude, drawled Taller Bro. A one-on-one with Kit Torres is bad news, man. Just tell me what you did and we'll figure out how to fix it. He snuck a quick glance at Tamara, remembered the human behind the desk, and steered Shorter Bro away.

Tamara chuckled to herself. C&C Eva Mendezwas it, now? Every new batch of interns, every group of new-minted money guys, they always had a nickname for Kit Torres. It didn't matter though. By the end of the week they all started calling her what everyone else came to do at C&C: S.C.B.

Stone Cold Bitch.

***

The motorcycle that almost killed Kit roared down the block and made a sharp, screeching right at the corner stoplight.

Kit retrieved her purse from the floor of the cab and pressed a fist to her chest to steady the gallop of her heart.

Yah 'kay Miss? asked the cabbie, dark eyes creased with worry. Dat maniac came outta nowhere!

Kit slammed the door shut and fought the sense of vertigo that threatened to topple her.Fucking motorcycle drivers. The city ought to ban them, every single one of those two-wheeled death machines and the adrenaline-jackedassholes astride them.

Her needle-thin stilettos clacked on the pavement fronting the forbidding, glass-and-steel skyscraper that housed the offices of investment firm Cutler & Channing. She was in her all-black uniform: an undulating dark column, midnight from the top of her turtleneck to the hem of her pencil skirt down to the deadly-weapon heels.The elevator swooshed up to the 37th floor, a silent ride that gave Kit a chance to recover her nerves.

She fixated on the motorcycle rider's jacket. When the bike had careened through the cab's passenger side, just before she planned to exit, she caught a glimpse of it: navy blue leather, with a wide red and white stripe running across the back and shoulders. Distinctive enough to impress upon her memory. If she saw that jacket again it would be hell to pay for whoever wore it.

By the time she clacked her way into C&C she was in a right foul mood.

Morning, said Tamara from behind the reception desk.These came in for you.

Kit collected the envelopes. Where's the reception guy? The redhead?

"Simon is out with the shingles, said Tamara. By the way, your 9AM is waiting outside your room. Think you'll like this one."

Kit raised a curious eyebrow and headed to her office to investigate. In the cream two-seater couch fronting her door sat Mr. 9AM, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.Blonde.Toothy.Small build.One glance was all she needed to recall his offenses:

1. Discipline in the workplace violation - pantry incident with coffee stirrer and hotdog causing an environment of discomfort and hostility, according to complainant Missy S., trainee, fresh-scrubbed from Oberlin and hopped up on feminist theory.

2. Misuse of Internet privilege - weekly IT scan pinged orange-level sites classified as inappropriate in browser history.

Very good. The close call with motor-borne death made Kit itch for an evisceration today. Inside, she told him.Now.

9AM gulped and followed her in. She would enjoy making this one squirm.

Chapter 2

Torres.

Philip Tomlinson's chipper voice came through the speakerphone. Kit, my dear. Made anyone cry today?

Gah. Even through the phone, Phil sounded windswept and ruddy. Kit could almost see her boss, wrapped in his high-tech skiing gear and waiting for the lift to take him up the slopes, or maybe huddled in a designer sweater and sipping gourmet hot chocolate in some mock-rustic chalet.

Not yet. But it's only 9.30.

Ha-ha, he deadpanned. Kit--

Don't start the 'play-nice' lecture, Phil.

While I would like nothing more than to dive back into our never-ending conversation about the attitudes expected of human resources leaders and remind you of your personal development goals, I am afraid we will need to park that until I get back. I have a business objective ask.

'Business objective ask.'Favor in Philspeak. Shoot.

I brought in a prospect. Potentially big.Needs looking after.

Mmm, said Kit. Why isn't Client Services receiving this call?

I hope you appreciate the complexity of this request and do not look at it as a typical sales lead, he chided. "As I said, this is a potentially big client. VIP. Rather reluctant on the business end but in need of guidance.Soon. Given his -- ah -- hesitancy on C&C's services, and his inclination towards personalized attention, in addition to the fact that I am out of the office precisely during the only two weeks he has available, it was imperative that I assign a personally trusted liaison to act as this client's bridge between his personal connection with me and the professional relationship I wish he would forge with C&C."

You have a rich friend who doesn't know what to do with his money, which would be perfect for C&C, but your friend's the type to keep his money in his socks or something so he's unlikely to convince if you're not there to hold his hand, so you want me to step in as your proxy until you get back,she translated. Phil, you have to be kidding me. I'm no PR person.

Tut-tut. Need I remind you of our last checkpoint? He spoke quickly over her groan. I'm not kidding. Year after year your evaluations come back the same: excellenttaskmaster, exceeds business targets, but deplorable people skills. Why do you think I can't in good conscience recommend you for an executive role? God knows you're more than qualified for it.

That made her stop and sit up.

"Oh so you're quiet now? That got your attention? Let me be plain. You help me with this, you play nice for the two weeks I'm out and he needs looking after, and I promise you, this will all