The Tycoon

by Anna Jeffrey

  Drake sank to the chair seat, trying to calm his racing pulse and unable to take his eyes off the woman who had once meant everything to him.

  “Tammy’s living in Fort Worth now,” his mother said. “Out on the west side, aren’t you, dear?”

  “Yes,” she said to Drake, smiling faintly.

  Where had she come from? What was she doing here? “Uh…good part of town.”

  She laughed, which must have come from nerves because no one had said anything funny.

  He remembered that he used to think her laugh had a musical quality. Hearing it now flooded him with memories.

  “I know this is a shock,” she said. “I told your mom we shouldn’t surprise you.”

  No shit. He angled a narrow-lidded look at his mother. “No problem. I’ll get over it in a minute.”

  The cocktail waitress came. They all ordered drinks. A blue margarita with a description a mile long for Tammy, Maker’s Mark with a splash of water for his mother. For himself, he ordered the same, neat, and wondered if he should have asked for a double. Why the hell was seeing her affecting him like this? He was over her. And had been for years.

  Hadn’t he?

  The drinks came, followed by the wine steward. They ordered wine. Their waiter came. They selected steaks. Tammy chose the same thing she used to—filet mignon, medium rare. All of it felt surreal.

  Drake looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. She was wearing a strapless thing, shiny and pale blue. The fabric stretched like a second skin across her breasts. An impression of her nipples showed. “You left Arizona? What are you doing here?”

  She shrugged her tanned shoulders. “I don’t know if you remember, but my uncle—my mother’s brother—is an attorney here. I’m working for him.”

  Drake had forgotten those facts, had no reason to remember them.

  “Tammy’s a free woman now,” Mom said.

  Something squiggled through Drake’s midsection. Tammy turned her head away and he

  could tell his mother’s bluntness had embarrassed her. He felt sorry for her. He wanted to ask about a thousand questions, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

  The wine steward delivered the wine and poured. Drake disciplined himself not to gulp it. Soon the waiter brought the steaks. As they ate, they talked about Tammy’s parents, life in Arizona, golf, ranching and a dozen other things, all of it superfluous small talk. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the cascade of hair the color of sunshine, eyes like blue crystals, the deep cleavage at the top of the strapless dress.

  “I’m really not feeling well,” Drake’s mother said all at once and Drake swerved his gaze to her. “What is it, Mom?”

  “I don’t know. I ate something on that cruise that didn’t agree with me and I’ve never really gotten over it.”

  She didn’t look sick, but he placed is napkin on the table and started to rise from his chair. “I’ll drive you home.”

  She waved away his effort. “No, no. I do think I’ll go, though. But I’ll just take a cab.”

  Now he was standing. He picked up her purse. “No. I’ll drive you.”

  “No,” she said sharply and yanked her purse away from him. “You probably came in that sports car. Riding in that thing will only make me sicker. I’d rather take a cab. I’m going to ask them to call one for me.” She summoned the waiter and gave him that instruction. “I’m going up to the front door and wait,” she said, getting to her feet.

  As Drake pulled her chair back for her, she looked up at him. “Tammy rode with me. You can see that she gets home, can’t you?”

  Drake mentally swore. Now he didn’t believe for a minute that she was sick. “Sure, but—”

  “Thank you, darling.” She turned to Tammy. “I’m so sorry to abandon you, but as I’m sure you’ll remember, you’re in good hands with Drake. I’m just going to go home and take something.”

  Tammy, too, was standing, “I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling well, Betty.”

  Mom made her way to the front of the restaurant. Glaring after her, Drake mentally swore again.

  “Do you think she’s okay?”

  Tammy’s brow took his attention back to her. Her brow was furrowed with concern. Apparently she had fallen for his mother’s ruse.

  “Yeah,” Drake said, walking over and holding her chair for her. He reclaimed his own chair, picked up his napkin and spread it on his lap. “I’m pretty sure he’s just fine.”

  “This is awkward. I hope you don’t think—”

  “I don’t think anything. Let’s just finish eating.” Minutes passed and Drake found no more words. If one wanted steak, the Cattlemen’s Steak House was one of the better places to eat it, but he scarcely tasted his rib-eye. The silence grew heavier.

  Tammy was the one who finally spoke. “Betty told me you’re in the real estate investment business. She said you’re very successful. I always knew you would be.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve had some luck. You’re a free woman? Does that mean you’re divorced or what?”

  Her eyes lowered to her plate. She nodded without looking at him, smoothing her napkin on her lap. “It’s been final about four months.” She looked up at him then, her gaze clouded with trouble. “He found someone else,” she said in a small voice.

  And you wanted that fucker so goddamn much, Drake thought, flashing back on the havoc their broken engagement had caused, not just in his own life, but in the lives of other people. He drew in a deep breath. “Sorry to hear that. Seems to be hard to keep a marriage together these days.” After a pause and another bite of meat, he came up with the next logical question. “Kids?”

  She nodded. “Two boys. Twelve and nine.”

  Hearing that affected Drake oddly. Once he had planned for Tammy to be the mother of his children and it struck him that since her, he hadn’t met another woman with whom he had experienced that desire.

  After a few beats, she added, “He got custody.”

  A surprise. Drake knew few men who had gotten custody of their kids in a divorce. Judges favored mothers unless there was a damn good reason not to. Was the woman he had once expected to be the mother of his children a bad mother or what? He stopped cutting his steak and looked at her. “How’d that happen?”

  She shook her head and avoided his eyes. “I agreed to it. I haven’t even settled on a place to live. My life’s torn up. I have to start over. He—we…”—her shoulders lifted in a huge sigh—“thought it would be better for the kids if he kept them.”

  She reached for her wineglass and sipped. “They’ll visit me. Or I’ll visit them. My folks are still in Sedona and they’ll see them.” She placed her long fingers on the stem of her glass and turned it, then sipped again. Drake noticed her manicure and long nails. Plastic, he figured, like most of the women he knew. Except for Shannon.

  Tammy obviously wasn’t happy about her circumstances. Drake could see her vulnerability, but he didn’t want to probe into it, didn’t want to make her think he cared. Now, if only he could figure out whether he did.

  She looked up at him from an unsmiling face. “You never got married?”

  “No time for it.”

  She nodded again and returned her gaze to her food, moved it around on her plate. “I’ve, uh…I want you to know that I’ve thought a lot about all those years ago, Drake. You’re probably thinking what goes around comes around. And I don’t blame you.” She looked up at him again. “I—I hope we can let bygones be bygones.”

  Meaning what? he wondered. He sat back in his chair, needing to distance himself. “I don’t know. Are you willing to let bygones be bygones with what’s-his-name?”

  She stiffened, a stricken look in her eyes.

  A little pinch tightened his gut. That remark had been unnecessarily cruel. Of course he remembered Ian Harper’s name. “Sorry,” he said, returning to his food. “I’m not trying to be a shit. I honestly don’t have a chip on my shoulder if that’s bothering you.”

  She rel
axed and smiled. “I’m glad. Of all the people I wouldn’t want to hate me, one of them would be you. All of my memories of you…of us…are good ones.”

  Drake wasn’t one to dredge up the past or try to analyze it, particularly the part that included Tammy. He was still puzzled why he had shared a little of it with Shannon in Hawaii. He cleared his throat. “Forget it, Tammy. It’s water under the bridge.”

  “Would it matter if I said it was never with Ian like it was between you and me? That most of the time Ian and I were married, I missed what we used to have?”

  What the hell did she mean by “It?” Sex? There had been no dearth of that with Tammy. They had screwed like rabbits whenever and wherever they could find a place. Lust for her had thrummed within him day and night. Sating it was the most all-consuming pleasure he had ever known up to that point in his life. Even better than football.

  He had been a virgin when they first started really dating in high school, but that wasn’t

  true of her. Though she was a year younger than he, she had been far more mature. When they hooked up, she was already on the pill. The barrage of memories was starting to make his butt want to squirm in his chair. He did not want to be reminded of how weak he had been during those years with this woman.

  “We were kids, he said. Things are different when you’re a kid.”

  “But that doesn’t mean heartfelt feelings change. What would you think if I said I came back to Fort Worth because you’re here?

  He reached for his wineglass and gulped, cleared his throat and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Still, he was curious. She had left the state a newly-wed while he was still a college student in Dallas and still living part time in Drinkwell. How or why would she have kept up with him? “How did you know I’m living here?”

  “My folks still talk to your dad occasionally.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug and the corners of her mouth tipped in a wan smile. “They miss you, too.”

  “Things change, Tammy. People move on.”

  They finished their food in uncomfortable silence. When the waiter came with the dessert menu, Drake said to Tammy, “I’d just as soon go. I’ve had a helluva week and I’m exhausted.”

  “That’s fine. I’m tired, too. I don’t need the calories anyway.”

  Drake asked for the check. Minutes later, they left the dining room, with him walking behind her, which gave him a back view of the blue dress. In reality, it was the little blue dress. It covered less than half her back, barely covered her ass and clung like plastic wrap. Her extremely high heels gave her hips a sexy sway. Nothing had been wrong with her body when they were kids. He used to look at her naked and tell himself what a lucky son of a bitch he was. Now she had filled out and giving birth to two kids had damn sure done her no harm. She was all woman from the silky hair to the soles of her high heels.

  To his dismay, the dragon in his drawers hadn’t forgotten her either. It had perked right up.

  They collected their coats in the vestibule and left the restaurant. He took her elbow as they crossed the street and walked to his car, all without talking. He stopped her at the Virage’s passenger door and opened it for her.

  “Nice car,” she said, giving him a sidelong look from beneath hooded eyes. She folded her long limbs into the small space. Her short skirt rode up to the tops of her thighs and he wanted to howl. He reached the driver’s door with a boner pressed against his fly. Luckily, he was wearing an overcoat.

  “This is a step up from a Corvette,” she said when he ducked behind the wheel. “I’m not surprised you’re driving a sports car. I remember that red Corvette your dad bought you that time and how upset you were when Betty took it back.”

  Inside the Virage’s close quarters, her scent filled the space. Something sexy and womanly. Old habits rose up and he had to will himself not to place his hand on her thigh as he once did.

  “Do you remember what we used to do?” she asked softly.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her knees slightly parted. He was positive she was talking about how he used to slide his hand under her skirt and tease her. She would open her legs and without even taking off her panties, let him play with her until she came. Those memories did nothing to quell the action in his shorts.

  “I don’t have much memory of what went on that far back,” he said.

  “We’re in a dark place,” she said. “Better than sitting at a traffic light like we used to do.”

  He kept his hands to himself and asked her where she lived.

  Her address was a stylish luxury apartment complex he knew about. He was acquainted with the architect who had designed it.

  “Betty said Lockhart Tower is a fabulous place,” she said as he eased into traffic.

  Fabulous. There was that Donna Schoonover word he hated. He winced.

  “I considered buying there when I first got back here. A Realtor I contacted told me one of the smaller units was for sale. But I decided I’d be better off renting.”

  He never passed up an opportunity to boast about Lockhart Tower. “It’s a great place to live.”

  “Your mom said you live there yourself. That you have a fantastic pool that’s like this private tropical garden.”

  Fantastic. What was it with women and these friggin’ empty words? “That was the designer’s concept,” he said. “I rarely use it myself. I’ve never been much of a swimmer.

  She laughed. “I remember that. In Drinkwell, when we were kids. there weren’t a lot of places for us to swim”

  “For sure.”

  “I got used to having my own pool in Sedona. I love swimming. I’d love to see your pool. Actually, I’d like to see the whole building.”

  “Come by anytime. We don’t do tours, but I’m always happy to show it off.” He geared down and merged onto the freeway. “What made you leave Arizona? If your folks are there and your kids, why didn’t you stay?”

  “Sedona just isn’t big enough for me and Ian and his new wife. But I might go back…if things don’t work out here. That’s why I’m only renting.”

  Drake recognized the symptoms of a woman lost and confused and searching for something. God knew, he had encountered that circumstance before, usually in women newly divorced and looking to replace something or somebody, a scary situation for a single guy.

  Once they were on the freeway, they could see the Fort Worth cityscape from the overpass. She looked out at it. “My uncle’s practice is downtown, down by the courthouse” she said, as if that was significant. Then she said, “That makes it easy for me to drop by your condo after work. Maybe we can renew old acquaintances.”

  A huskiness in her voice revealed how she intended for them to renew old acquaintances. The hair raised on the back of Drake’s neck. A late-day visit from her was the last thing he wanted. But like a fool, he said, “You’re welcome anytime.” Then he covered himself by adding, “I’m often gone, but even if I am, you’re welcome to use the pool. Or the gym. I can add your name to our guest list.”

  “Would you? I’m going to do that then. Go swimming, I mean.”

  When they reached her apartment complex, Drake walked her to her front door, weaving through a maze of buildings and landscape features.

  “Do you want to come in?” she asked as she plugged her key into her front door lock. “I brew a mean cup of coffee.”

  He didn’t dare step into that trap. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Can’t. Early day tomorrow. I’ve been out of my office most of this week. I’m still trying to catch up.”

  “Do you still like sports?”

  As kids, they had both been into sports. In a town as small as Drinkwell, school sports events had been at the heart of their social activities. Then after he left for college and tried to play football, college football had become important to them. He remembered that she had kept up with all the statistics and could readily quote them. His friends at the time had thought she

  was cool.

  “Sure,” he answe
red, setting back on his heels.

  “Good. TCU is playing the Aggies tomorrow afternoon. Home game. I’ve got tickets. Want to be my guest?”

  “Basketball?” He snorted, vapor spewing from his lips into the cold air. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a basketball game.”

  “As an alum, I get super seats. It’s supposed to be an exciting game. You know how it is when anyone plays A&M.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t follow college sports these days.”

  “Come on. Be my guest. For old times’ sake. The tip-off is at two o’clock. TCU is forecast to win. There’ll be lots of spirit. You’ll enjoy it.”

  Realizing he had been a grouch all evening, he managed a smile. “I’ve got to run up to Southlake tomorrow morning and check on my project, but I guess I could be back in time.”

  She smiled back at him. “I like it when you smile. You were such a good-looking boy. Now you’re a handsome man. What about food?”

  “I probably won’t finish up there until after eleven. I’ll just—”

  “That’s great. There’s a little breakfast place in that shopping center just up University Drive from the arena. They specialize in gourmet pancakes and omelets. It’s called Benjamin’s for Breakfast. I’ll buy.”

  Located near the TCU complex, Benjamin’s was a popular spot for the college crowd. “I’m familiar with it,” he said. “Okay, I guess I can meet you there.”

  He left her at her front door and was home by eleven.

  But at midnight he was wide awake and sitting in his living room, lit only by lights from outside, thinking about the past. And Tammy McMillan. Amazing how easily he had slipped back into what had once been routine—dining with her and his mother, sharing inside jokes. The camaraderie of familiarity was no longer a part of his life except on occasion when he returned to the Double-Barrel.

  He missed it, he now acknowledged, though seeing his former fiancé again caused him more stress and distress than anything he could remember. He tilted back his head and rested his neck against the sofa back, closed his eyes and let memory carry him back to his senior year at SMU. He was twenty-two, going on twenty-three. Too damn young to get married, but he hadn’t known that then. And with both sets of parents pushing, the die was cast. The wedding was to take place in June.