Taking Home the Tycoon

by Catherine Mann

  He drew closer, ran a hand up and down her arm. “Okay, so you’re saying you don’t want a relationship and there’s no replacing your husband.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s stop talking about types and the past. It’s not about trying to logically explain what’s happening between us.”

  “You’re a cyberguru. Doesn’t that make you the epitome of logical?”

  His low laugh rumbled his chest against hers. “I like to think I’m a Renaissance man, in touch with my emotions. I’m here for now. Let’s go with the flow.”

  In the moments before the next kiss, she searched his eyes and wondered if, and how long, she could take him up on that dare?

  * * *

  As Natalie cracked open the door, a long yawn of hall light winked into her daughter’s room, illuminating Lexie’s sleeping form. At the threshold, Natalie watched the steady rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing.

  With silent footfalls, Natalie crossed the room, and made it to her daughter’s bedside. She planted a kiss on Lexie’s forehead. Lexie didn’t stir, seemed content in whatever sweet dreamscape danced before her closed eyelids. A small stuffed animal—a unicorn named Mrs. Agatha—was snuggled up next to her daughter, whose little fingers were twined in the purple mane.

  Content with the scene at hand, Natalie left Lexie’s bedside and made her way to Colby’s room for their nighttime ritual.

  The last rays of the sun had melted away, and the hall no longer boasted a cool autumn glow. Instead, the manufactured light of the hall—dim in comparison to the natural amber of a few moments ago—guided her to the other end of the hall, to the blue door that led to Colby.

  Clicking open the door, she let herself into the plain white room. Paintings of fish lined the walls, an array of end-of-the-rainbow colors dancing before her eyes. She’d made a gallery wall for him—hung up his meticulously colored pages of deep-sea fish. He seemed to enjoy the soothing nautical world.

  She stretched, eyes meeting the now-familiar scene of Colby underneath his blanket, reading. He had his own flashlight, one she’d bought him with the barrel decorated in magnifying glasses and microscopes, part of a science kit.

  The weighted blanket draped over his head, thick enough to give him the pressure he preferred, but thin enough for remnants of the flashlight’s beam to penetrate the fabric as he read underneath. A silent fan whirred, cooling him. Miss Molly was stretched out beside him, pressed up against her charge.

  Miss Molly’s deep brown eyes seemed to spark with interest as Natalie made her way to the bedside. Tail thumping, the golden retriever let out a small whine but didn’t move away from Colby.

  He let the blanket slide down, exposing himself to the air of his room and to her. Natalie’s heart fluttered a bit, as she wondered how to connect and engage with her son—her deeply kind son—even more.

  Hugs were on his terms, but they had developed another language of affection. She softly tapped her fingertips along the top of his hand, then his forehead. A smile pushed up his lips, reached his eyes.

  Not a hug, but a connection. A genuine connection. These little moments meant everything to her, and she imprinted them into her memories to draw comfort from in tougher times.

  He closed his book and set it aside, then turned off his flashlight as a yawn shook his whole body. Blinking at her, he lay down. “Good night.”

  So matter-of-fact and confident.

  “Good night, Colby.” She stroked a hand along Miss Molly’s swirls of fur, the dog being the link between them; then she closed the door after her.

  She sagged back against the hall wall and let out a hard sigh. Glancing down the hall, she noted—how could she not?—that a warm glow emanated from under Max’s door.

  He was still awake and here.

  Not that it should matter to her.

  Still, she envisioned him in the room, casual and relaxed in her home. More than just a guest?

  Silly thoughts. Shaking her head, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. It had been a few weeks since she’d spoken to her own parents. An overdue conversation.

  Natalie glanced over the railing and down, nodding at the guests sitting in the landing area on an overstuffed couch. They were huddled under a fluffy blanket with the staples of movie watching—popcorn and candy. The thirtysomething man, Albert, balanced a laptop on his lap while his wife, Beth, rested her head on his shoulder.

  The thing about running a B and B was that Natalie continually had access to private moments. And many—like this one—made another tear in her barely healed heart. Which made it all the easier to respect the couple’s privacy. She went quickly downstairs on soft feet to make her phone call.

  Natalie rounded the corner into the kitchen, sat at the table and dragged in a couple of bracing breaths before she hit the speed dial for her mother.

  Five rings.

  It had taken five rings for her mother to answer. Already, a knot formed in Natalie’s stomach.

  “Hey, Mom. How are things?” Staring hard at the table and scratching her finger along a scar Colby had worn into the wood with a compulsive scratch when he was three, she waited for her mother to respond.

  “Hello, Natalie. It’s nice to hear from you after all this time.” The dig chipped away at Natalie’s heart. “Things are just fine here. Your father and I are planning a vacation.”

  “Oh? Where are you two going?” Natalie asked, winding her hair around her fingers. Nervous habits died hard.

  Her mother, Georgina, let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Clearwater Beach vacation. In Florida. We might as well.”

  Not a word asking about how her grandchildren were doing. How she was doing. Not that she expected or needed it. But still...

  “How’s Dad?” Natalie asked, hoping to talk to him. She seldom heard from her father on the phone.

  “Just fine. Though we are about to have dinner out on the balcony. Hope you and the kids are well,” Georgina said tightly. She’d made it clear long ago that if Natalie wasn’t willing to do things their way, then she didn’t have their support.

  As a mother, Natalie found that tougher and tougher to accept or understand.

  “Well, enjoy your meal, then. We can speak another time. Bye, Mom. Love you and Dad.” She said it out of habit, but meant it even as she wished for more. God, was she destined to always be wishing for more from people who were supposed to be partners in this life journey—people like her parents, like Jeremy?

  “Love you, too.”

  And just like that, the connection went dead, leaving Natalie feeling hollow and raw.

  Lord knew that hadn’t been their worst conversation. When Natalie had decided to move to Texas, the conversations were laced with distaste and annoyance.

  But things hadn’t warmed up between her and her mother. The connection between them felt strained. It always had. So different than the connection she felt with her own children.

  The tendrils of anxiety inched around her heart. Restlessness entered her limbs, and she found herself walking back up the stairs, past the couple watching movies, toward her kids’ rooms. The lights were still out in Colby’s and Lexie’s respective rooms. She laid a hand on Colby’s door and took a deep breath, vowing to always be there for her children.

  As she turned, the glow from underneath Max’s door caught her attention.

  He was still awake. Still up. And yes, from the rustling sound inside, he was still here.

  The prospect excited her. And while life hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped or given her what she might have always wanted, she couldn’t control what others did or felt. She only had control of her own decisions and actions. In this exact moment, she knew what she wanted.

  She wanted something just for herself.

  She wanted to sleep with Max St. Cloud.

 
Six

  His eyes strained while he reviewed the code sprawling on the laptop screen in front of him.

  Dissatisfied with the machine language, Max shifted his laptop to the edge of the bed. His hand reached blindly to the wooden end table, and he felt around for the mason jar full of sweet tea. Not exactly a protein shake—his normal ritual—but apparently sweet temptation abounded everywhere here in all forms.

  A few hours ago, he’d left the room, needing movement to rejuvenate his senses. As far as the case went, he knew a piece of information escaped him.

  That frustrated him. Rather than spend a few hours falling through rabbit holes, Max had changed his environment. Foot-to-pavement time always allowed him to clear his head. Or at least it had.

  Every stride he took looped his mind back to Natalie. And while he didn’t actively think about the case, he did think about the smile of appreciation she’d given him earlier over pancakes and crepes.

  He’d run harder than usual. As if running would not only reveal the origin of the cyberattacker, but also reveal a way for Max to proceed with Natalie.

  The postrun shower renewed him. Max had felt ready to dive back into this work. Ready for a break in the case. He needed it, really.

  But the backdoor code analysis hadn’t revealed anything useful. He blinked, sipping the tea, noting how the cool liquid soothed his throat. Satisfied, he set the tea back on the end table next to the fresh-cut flowers from the yard, a nice touch that Natalie made all around the B and B.

  Amazing how often she slid into his thoughts.

  Time for another change of scene. He made his way to the desk, leaned against the plush chair. A new angle—one that focused on the members of TCC.

  Max ran a hand through his hair, sighed deeply. On the edge of his four-poster bed, just to the left of where he’d placed his laptop, a large spread of papers loomed. He picked up the stack and the laptop, made his way back to the main workstation and settled into the chair.

  Ready.

  He’d been looking into members who had been outspoken about allowing women in the Texas Cattleman’s Club and compiling a list of people who’d been denied membership. Maybe someone had a grudge against members after being excluded. This list was damn long. He would have to farm out some of the names to employees in his firm. Once they found identifying markers, he could dig deeper into the cyberworld and with human intel here.

  He leaned back in his chair, the floorboards creaking beneath.

  When he closed his eyes, his thoughts went right back to his date with Natalie. Kissing her, the way she felt pressed up against him. How freely she’d given herself over to dancing. No matter how many showers he took, he could still smell the flowery scent of her hair.

  A rap on the door forced his eyes open. His heart rate accelerated as he cleared his throat to answer.

  He swiveled in his chair and faced the door. “Come in.”

  Natalie in the flesh, not in his memory. Looking as sexy as ever. Maybe even sexier.

  She held a plate with a slice of pecan pie à la mode. A loose cotton dress draped along her curves and brushed the tops of her bare feet. “I saw you were still burning the midnight oil and thought you might like a late-night snack.”

  Oh, he was hungry all right. Looking at her sent a gnawing ache straight to his gut.

  “That’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”

  She stayed in the doorway, not walking in but not passing over the plate. He tried to get a read off her and what she wanted. She scrunched her toes, and he noticed her nails were painted green. Interesting. Not the conventional choice he would have expected.

  And damn, he was in a sad shape if he was obsessing over her toes. He scratched his chest over his heavily thudding heart and realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  Max cleared his throat. “I’ll grab a T-shirt and we can go downstairs to get a second slice of pie for you to join me.”

  Natalie looked over her shoulder at the empty hall and then took a step closer to him. “How about you leave the shirt off and we share this one in your room?”

  Whoa.

  Just holy hell, whoa.

  That was not what he’d expected her to say.

  As much as he wanted to haul her in without hesitation, he was starting to care about her. He wanted to be certain she wouldn’t regret this and boot him on his ass five seconds later. “Are the kids with Tom and Emily?”

  She held up her phone, a low hum of music emanating. “I have a monitor going between their bedrooms. They’re next door. I’ll hear if they need me. I figured that out for keeping them safe and separate from boarders.”

  “Of course. I should have realized you would have that figured out.” He didn’t know much—anything—about parenting. His mother sure hadn’t kept track of him at that age and his foster families were usually overwhelmed by the sheer number of kids around. Natalie was...incredible. Beautiful and giving. He should tell her to go. Should. But couldn’t. “Are you certain you want to share that pie?”

  “Absolutely certain.” She met his eyes without hesitation, and with her free hand placed a condom in his palm.

  Not much stunned him anymore.

  Well, not until Natalie had walked into his life.

  His hand closed around the condom. She couldn’t be any more obvious than that.

  He stepped aside, clearing the way.

  She looked back over her shoulder at him with a toss of her hair. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

  “And give you a chance to talk yourself out of being here? I don’t think so.” He closed the door with a decisive click. All the doors locked automatically, like at a hotel, an upgrade to the place he appreciated right now.

  She glanced at the desk and he nudged aside the computer, clearing a space for the plate. Natalie put down the pie, pulled two spoons from her pocket and held them up. “I’m hoping you’ll share?”

  “My pleasure.” He plucked a spoon from her hand and clasped her wrist in his other hand. “One condition, though.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “What would that be?”

  “We get to feed each other,” he said, grinning as he sat and pulled her into his lap.

  Laughing, she sat sideways across his legs. She swept her spoon through the ice cream and started toward him, only to snatch the bite for herself at the last moment. Her green eyes twinkled.

  He chuckled, surprised at her playfulness. She was always so serious. But then she was always overworked. He’d been drawn to her before. Now he was...mesmerized.

  Scooping up a taste of ice cream, he brought the spoon to her mouth and didn’t play.

  She closed her lips over the spoon and moaned in appreciation. “I’m not being much of a hostess, and this really is tasty, if I do say so myself. The ice cream is home churned.”

  This time, she didn’t play, but offered him a taste with some pecan pie mixed in. He’d eaten at the best restaurants around the world, but damned if he could remember ever having had homemade ice cream before. Either it was the best ever, or being with Natalie made it the best ever.

  To hell with food. He kissed her. Really kissed her. And hell, yes, she really kissed him back.

  While savoring the taste of vanilla on her tongue, he set aside his spoon with a clink of metal against china and plucked her spoon from her hand, as well. The curve of her hip pressed against him in a temptation even sweeter than the dessert. Having her in his arms was better and better every time.

  He didn’t know what he’d ever done in his life that was good enough to deserve this moment, but he was grateful. And was going to make sure she didn’t regret whatever made her decide to take this leap. He considered himself savvy at reading people, and he suspected her fast move into intimacy was out of character for her. He didn’t want to ponder too muc
h on the why of that.

  He just wanted to ponder on...her.

  He slid an arm under her legs and along her back, lifting her as he stood. She sighed, her hands clasping his shoulders. He closed the four steps to the bed in record time, lowering her to the mattress without breaking contact. He’d dreamed of having her here, planned, but the rush of excitement at holding her in his arms, in his room, exceeded his imagination.

  And his imagination had been mighty damn amazing.

  Stretching out over her, he groaned with pleasure at the feeling of her under him. The mattress gave ever so slightly as he did his best to keep his full weight off her while still enjoying the fit and match of their bodies aligning. Of seeing her fiery hair splayed across his pillow. Her emerald green eyes were sultry with want.

  She snapped the waistband of his running shorts with a sass that sent a bolt of desire surging through him. He sketched his mouth along her jaw, down her neck to her shoulder and then the soft length of her arm until he could reach her ankle. He inched his fingers under the hem of her dress and bunched the fabric up, up, up her silky leg to her hip.

  Arching her back, she bowed upward and stretched her arms overhead in an unmistakable invitation. An invitation he fully intended to accept. He swept her dress up and off...exposing breathtaking curves encased in white lace.

  She looked like one of those timeless models painted on the side of an aircraft in the prior century. Pinup luscious and all his for the taking. Or maybe she was taking him, because the way her fingers were caressing his chest, then moved lower still to cradle his erection, had him throbbing to be inside her. Deeply. Fully.

  The feel of her hands on him numbed his mind to rational thought. Instincts took over, his whispers of encouragement mixing with her moans as they swept aside the remainder of clothes until—yes—they were skin to skin, heated flesh to flesh. The length of his hard-on pressed on her stomach in a tempting precursor of what it would feel like to have her all around him.

  Soon.

  Not soon enough, if her eager hands were anything to judge by, as they touched him, explored him...and sheathed him in the condom.