Taking Home the Tycoon

by Catherine Mann

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s up to the chef to create. I was simply stating what I could do, and what I would like to do for you.” He moved toward her and kissed the nape of her neck.

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, breathing in his scent. Musky temptation. But she had her reservations...like how to figure out a way to make things more comfortable between them. Hell, how to even tell him. “You have already done so much—cooking me dinner, fixing my sink and all you’re doing for the town.”

  He ran soft fingers up and down her arm, sending shivers through her body. “We’re talking about you and me.”

  “This is strange territory for me, this whole dating world. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten the rules.” Her fingers found his.

  He lifted her hand to his lips. Kissed her, maintaining eye contact. “There are no rules. Only what you and I want.”

  “If only it could be that simple.” She sighed, avoiding his gaze, along with telling him her thoughts. Aside from her being embarrassed, men could be so...sensitive, when it came to how things went in the bedroom. Her hair obscured her vision.

  “It can be.”

  “How?”

  “I pour a glass of wine for you and grab a beer for myself and we go outside, sit on your porch swing. We can talk, look at the stars, make out a little.”

  “What if I want more?” At some point. Because she really did.

  “Oh, we’re going to have more. But I can sense from you that tonight is not the right time for that.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” He touched her hair. “You still have things going on in your mind, and there’s the issue with not wanting gossip.”

  She swallowed hard to give herself time to weigh her words. To be sure of what she wanted to say. “I guess it’s unrealistic for me to think the town expects me to never see anyone. And you did an admirable job with Colby today.” She felt like she was standing on the edge of something...important. “So as long as I’m not making a spectacle of myself and you can handle that I need a couple of steps back to regroup...?”

  Natalie left the thought unfinished rather than continue her nervous ramble.

  He stepped close to her, closer still until their bodies brushed if not their lips. “Lady, I hear what you are saying and want to reassure you. I am in control of myself. You could take off all your clothes here, now, and nothing would happen tonight. I want everything to be right for you.”

  At the sound of his syllables, a rush went through her. Her heart beat out of time as she considered his control.

  And she found she did trust him at his word. As much as she would enjoy being intimate with him again, this was all moving so quickly between them, at warp speed, actually. And an old-fashioned evening date in her backyard could give her the info she needed to help protect her heart.

  Or would it sink her deeper into temptation’s way?

  Eight

  As Max approached Natalie, who was sitting on the porch swing, his breath hitched. The night was perfect in a way he could barely quantify. The whole vibe, the moment, was just right there in the pocket with a rightness he couldn’t deny. From the woman in front of him, to this idyllic haven she’d created on her property.

  The hooting of an owl mixed with the gentle creak of the porch swing. He extended the glass of chardonnay to her, his fingers grazing hers.

  That awareness returned to his limbs, his chest. Damn. Her emerald eyes were grateful as she took a sip of the wine.

  Sitting next to her, he stretched his arm around her back. Natalie settled into him, that limber body pressed up against his chest.

  It was a perfect contrast of warmth to the increasingly cool September air. The B and B had dull lights at best, providing a somewhat uninterrupted view of the stars in the sky.

  Taking a swig of his beer, he embraced everything—the sounds, the air, the potential of the ridiculously sexy woman next to him. Her soft curls cast shadows across her face in the shuttered porch light, making her look alluring. Mysterious. Sexy as hell.

  Next to him, Natalie sighed deeply, swaying more into the rhythm of the swing. Tempting him and testing his resolve.

  He’d meant his vow not to take her to bed tonight. He was a man of patience and she clearly needed space to process what had happened between them.

  And he had to admit, their night together had moved him more than he’d expected.

  She was right. They were moving fast—both of them.

  No question, he wanted to be with her again, and he wasn’t sure where this crazy draw was headed. He didn’t know where it could go. He couldn’t ignore the importance of being careful for her kids. Great kids who were fast becoming more than just Natalie’s children.

  They were people in their own right.

  Lexie.

  Colby.

  The dinner tonight had tasted better than any in recent memory and he had to be honest with himself. It was the company that added the special seasoning that flavored the meal to perfection.

  So where did that leave him? He understood her concerns and reservations. Maybe it was time to help her understand more about what made him the man he’d become. A man who wasn’t right for her but wanted her all the same. A man who wasn’t good at denying himself what he wanted except he had to be that man. For her, tonight at least.

  But tomorrow? Away from here and prying eyes?

  He rested his beer on his knee and tucked her to his side. “I know how to cook because of this one foster home I lived in. It was a really good home. People talk about the bad ones so much, and sure, there are some.” He shook his head. “But there are some good and amazing people out there opening their homes to children in need. Not enough of them. But plenty.”

  “And you learned to cook in one of those homes because of the foster mom?”

  Memories flashed before his mind’s eye. A montage of baking in the well-lit kitchen. Lessons in cooking fettuccine alfredo, lasagna, chimichangas and frittata. Eliot, his foster dad, arranging all the supplies on a faded laminate countertop. “Because of the foster dad. He did all the cooking and made a point of teaching us kids. He told us his wife worked hard and this was his way of pulling his weight. He also told us we would likely live on our own at some point in our lives and that the best way to save money was to cook for ourselves. Eating out was a treat, but not always the financially wisest or the healthiest move.”

  “Valid points and smart of him to teach you kids that.” Her voice was soft and soothing, stroking along the edges of those memories.

  “He was a wise man. I learned a lot from him.” And back then he’d been hungry to learn and daring to hope he might, just might, get to stick around there long enough to learn a lot.

  “Like what?”

  A hefty sigh damn near deflated him. Of all the foster homes, that one with Eliot had been the closest he’d ever gotten to having a family. The memory of what-if still pained him. “How to change a tire. How to use crap to make things, which ultimately led me to build my first computer by Dumpster diving behind a few business offices and a computer store.”

  “How old were you while you were there?”

  “For a little over a year when I was thirteen.” He’d learned a lot in that year, things that had stuck with him long after he left. He’d just been too mad then to realize it.

  “What happened?”

  A knot formed in his chest. “He had a stroke, a really bad one. His wife couldn’t take care of him and all of us foster kids. She wanted to.” He believed that now, even though then he’d been so angry he’d doubted her. “But the system thought otherwise about her ability to juggle his care with raising fosters and they moved us all.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She clasped his hand and rubbed lightly.

  “That’s life. It’
s not always fair and a person has to accept the things beyond control—or go crazy.” He shrugged, swirling the beer in his bottle.

  “You figured that out at thirteen?”

  “Hell, no. My foster dad told me that, slowly, with drool pooling in one corner of his mouth, his left side almost totally paralyzed from the stroke. I just didn’t fully accept it until later.”

  She angled her face to see him, her eyes searching his. “How is he doing now?”

  “He died when I was nineteen.” He tore his gaze away from hers and tipped up his beer for a long swig. “But I think of him when I cook and I feel like I’m honoring his memory. The way I see it, the foster system isn’t perfect, but I made it through. I can focus on the good, and do what I can to help fix the broken.”

  “Fix the broken?” she asked sympathetically, lifting her wineglass to her lips. “How do you do that?”

  “Ah, that’s a story for another day.”

  Her eyes went wide and she lowered her glass. “You’re a secret philanthropist.”

  He laughed lightly and tugged a lock of her red hair—God, it was silky. “If I talk about it, then it’s not a secret, is it?”

  “Magazines call you a billionaire playboy, but then go around doing all these nice things for people.”

  He shifted in the seat, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “Don’t romanticize me, Natalie. I’ve lived a footloose life as an adult, living my way. It’s easy to be nice with all this money and freedom at my disposal.”

  “Max, you’re trying to paint such a bad boy—”

  He kissed her. Held her lips with his, not pulling away for even a second as he set aside his beer bottle, then filched her crystal glass to put it down. Hands free now, he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her close, giving his all to kissing her. The taste of wine on her tongue was almost as intoxicating as the woman herself.

  And yes, having her in his arms was better than being tempted to talk more. She had a way of drawing things from him he hadn’t thought about in years, and wasn’t sure he wanted to think about now.

  Losing himself in her was far preferable to visiting the past. And damn, he would like to completely lose himself in her body.

  And Natalie swayed closer to him, her breasts flat against his chest, her fingers thrusting up and into his hair. She breathed a husky moan against his mouth. “I thought you said you’re okay with my need for a bit of breathing room. That we weren’t going to sleep together tonight.”

  “We aren’t.” He grinned, enjoying the sound of temptation in her voice. He could have her, but he could still sense the reservation in her. She might have come to his room, but clearly something about that gave her pause and she had the right to say no. And he would respect that, even as he gently pursued her. He wasn’t going to risk spooking her altogether. “But I never said I wasn’t going to kiss you absolutely senseless. Which now that I have done, I will say—” he kissed her lips, then the tip of her nose “—good night.”

  * * *

  Training days in the yard with Margie always gave Natalie hope.

  Hope for a fuller life for her son. Hope that somehow she was managing to give her children what they needed to grow into productive, happy adults. Listening to Max talk about his childhood reminded her of the lifetime of emotional scars that could be left on a person from their youth.

  Hearing her son and daughter laugh was the sweetest reassurance of all. Today, Margie had been playing hide-and-seek with the kids and the dog, what she termed one of the early foundations of teaching K-9 search-and-rescue. While Miss Molly wouldn’t be taking that path with her working life, she could be called upon to find Colby if he wandered off—not an unheard of occurrence for her brilliant, reticent son.

  Lexie and Colby had spent the past hour hiding in different places around the yard, giving Miss Molly variations of clues to find them—anything from whispering, to squeaking a toy, even wearing a shirt from the dirty laundry pile to give Miss Molly an extra whiff of their scent on the breeze.

  Miss Molly was a natural.

  Natalie leaned against a tree, taking in the sight of Miss Molly tunneling under an upside-down kiddie pool, where her children were curled up together, giggling.

  Lexie wrapped her arms around Miss Molly’s neck and hugged gently. “Love you, my puppy.” She glanced up at Margie. “This is fun. I like this game.”

  Margie adjusted the treat pouch strapped around her waist. “I’m happy to hear that. We’ll play that some more in the future, all right?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Lexie wriggled farther out from under the baby pool.

  “Yeah,” Colby said simply, but his enthusiasm showed in how he leaped to his feet, upending the plastic pool.

  Natalie pushed herself away from the tree and knelt by her children. “Margie’s going to work on leash walking now, so would the two of you play in the sandbox? I’ll be right here in eyesight and you can call me if you need me.”

  “Okeydoke.” Lexie hugged her mom hard and pressed a sticky kiss on Natalie’s cheek.

  Colby nodded, following his sister to the wooden sandbox full of shovels and buckets and toy trucks.

  “Miss Molly, come.” Margie issued the command low and firm, her alpha-style authority a fun contradiction coming from the slight, wiry woman. Miss Molly stopped dead in her tracks, pivoted on her paws and trotted back toward them.

  Even after these months of training since Natalie had adopted Miss Molly from the Royal Safe Haven Animal Shelter and started the golden retriever’s training, Natalie still found Margie’s ability to command the dog with such ease impressive. That was why she was the professional, after all.

  Miss Molly still had a lot of training to accomplish, but Margie assured them all was on track. Kneeling, the trainer hooked a service-dog-in-training vest on the yellow dog.

  Glancing to the left, Natalie checked on her kids in the sandbox. Lexie and Colby had constructed a rather lopsided sand castle. Her daughter’s infectious laughter mingled with the sounds of birdcalls and the hum of conversations on the front porch. Even Colby seemed relaxed today. Her heart squeezed, returning her attention back to Margie and training. Natalie hoped that Miss Molly’s training would give her son every advantage in the world.

  As Margie passed over a treat from her pouch, Natalie took a deep breath. The scent of fallen leaves filled her. She loved this time of year.

  Her mind wandered a bit, picking up a well-worn trail in which she stored the recent memories of Max. His confident grin and mischievous eyes. The way his kisses hinted at his duality. Every kiss with him fused strength to passion, abandon to control. An addictive combination, if she were being truthful.

  Last night had been a bit more of a high-stakes moment. The evening had unfolded with perfect ease. A combination of everything she needed. His kiss, his measured ability to keep things from escalating too far. Respecting her wishes and boundaries.

  He’d been great with her kids. Especially Colby. He seemed to understand how to engage with him. Max was different than a lot of her friends in town, who, at first, tried to smother Colby with well-meaning affection. It had taken her closest friends some time to understand physical touch had to be dictated by Colby. But Max fell into a pattern with Colby. For that she was grateful.

  He’d even shared more about his life last night, become more real by the hour. Her mind again returned to the kiss at the end of the night.

  She’d wanted to go further...but there was still an awkwardness she couldn’t get past.

  Giving Miss Molly a hand and spoken command—let’s go—Margie started a brisk walk toward the gate, Natalie walking alongside. They would walk the yard, and the perimeter, the children always in sight, while still working the training.

  Margie made Miss Molly wait at the gate, then proceed forward on comman
d. A few steps later, the trainer glanced at Natalie. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine, really,” Natalie said quickly. Too eager. The words betrayed her.

  “You’re actually a really a bad liar.” Margie’s eyebrows shot heavenward.

  “Look around you. My life is complicated. I’m exhausted and sad and overworked. That’s all.” Natalie walked toward the cars. The dog seemed to be getting the message that when she wore her vest during an outing, she wasn’t allowed to sniff. This had proven to be the hardest part of working with Miss Molly, but they were making progress.

  “You’ve been that before and something’s different. I want to help if I can. If you want me to. Does it have something to do with that hot, young boarder of yours?” Margie walked alongside Miss Molly, her eyes on the dog’s movements but she was still concentrating on the conversation. “If he’s messing with your heart, there are people in this town who will knock him down a peg or two.”

  “He’s not playing with my heart at all. He’s been completely forthright. I’ve been upfront with him, as well...”

  “Then...?”

  “It’s too embarrassing to say.” Natalie lowered her voice, eying her neighbors pushing their toddler on a swing hanging from a fat oak branch. Her heart squeezed with the beauty of all that promise.

  Margie ducked her head conspirator-style. “Then I’m guessing it’s about sex?”

  And there it was. She’d slept with Max. He’d made sure she was satisfied. She wanted to go to bed with him again—needed a passionate affair. Her body was on fire every time he came near. Still... “How crazy is that? I’ve been married, but...” She shook her head. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Can you talk to your mother?”

  “Heavens, no.” Natalie shuddered at the thought. What a way to make things more embarrassing. At best she would get either a lecture or encouragement to pursue Max because of his wealth.

  “Well, honey, you clearly need to speak with someone. We girls have to stick together and talk. Too much is kept secret out of embarrassment, and that makes me sad.”