Swept Away by the Tycoon

by Barbara Wallace

  Looking for a lighter topic, he spied the black garment bag draped over the spare chair. “Shopping?”

  “Excuse me?” Chloe pulled her thoughts out of whatever fog they’d disappeared into.

  “The dress bag.”

  She shook her head. “Maid of honor dress. My friend Delilah is getting married next week. To our boss, if you can believe it.”

  “That’s one way to get a promotion.”

  “Aren’t you cynical?”

  Ian laughed. “Occupational hazard.” For as many women whose hearts he’d broken, there was an equal number who’d been after the money.

  “I didn’t realize coffee vendors were such a catch,” Chloe replied.

  He laughed again. This was why he enjoyed talking with her. “Haven’t you heard? Caffeine’s the new sexy.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “As for your friend...?”

  “Delilah. In this case we’re talking real, honest-to-God true love. If there is such a thing as soul mates, it’s Simon and Delilah.”

  “Now who’s sounding cynical?” There was a definite weariness in her last sentence.

  “I’m not cynical. I’m broke. Both of my best friends are getting married this spring, and I’m maid of honor at both ceremonies. Although, on the plus side, I do get some completely useless dresses out of the deal.”

  There she went, acting cavalier again. Without the sunglasses to shade her eyes, the act didn’t work as well. “You can always pay them back by getting them a completely useless wedding gift,” he suggested. “Gold-plated salt and pepper shakers, pearl-handled shrimp forks. Just make sure you stay away from silver candlesticks. I still have the scar from when my ex-wife tossed one at my head.”

  Chloe winced. “Ouch.”

  “Ouch indeed.” She didn’t know the half of it. “In fairness to the candlesticks, the injury wasn’t their fault. Jeanine and I were the equivalent of gasoline and a match. Some people aren’t meant to have relationships.”

  “No, they are not.”

  Referring to himself, he didn’t expect to hear her agree so quickly. Or with so much bite. “You’re bitter because your boyfriend cheated on you.” Which reminded him, he needed to stick Aiden on a few more late-night Saturday shifts.

  Chloe reached for her coffee. “For your information, I am completely over Aiden,” she told him.

  “You sure?”

  “Honestly? Other than the embarrassment factor, I wasn’t all that into him.”

  Then what caused the shadows behind her smile? Something—or someone—had given rise to her jadedness. If not the Irish barista, then who?

  Ian’s thoughts returned to her earlier comments regarding parents. Fathers could screw up so much, he realized with sudden despair. What if Matt felt the same way about relationships? Jeanine had never married again. Ian...well, his dating history was well documented. Had he doomed his child to a life as cold and meaningless as his own?

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ian shook his head. “Nothing. I was thinking I should get on the road soon, if I’m going to make it to the school before dark.”

  “I didn’t realize the time,” Chloe said, glancing down at a watchless wrist. “I’m sorry to keep you.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you stopped by. It was nice having someone to listen.” He stared at the hand resting on the table, his own itching to entwine their fingers. To physically connect as they had moments before. Needing a distraction, he grabbed his cup, hoping coffee replaced needs besides “Like I said, I don’t have many friends anymore.”

  “You have at least one now.”

  She meant her. The declaration settled over his shoulders, solid and warm, like an invisible embrace. Friendship was a luxury he hadn’t afforded himself in a long time.

  “A very sweet one, too.” How long before he let her down? If he listened to the ache pulsing through his limbs, it was only a matter of time before he turned a touch into another mistake.

  No reason to make the mistake today, he decided, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Rain’s getting heavier. I better grab a cup of coffee and hit the road. Next time you come in, the coffee’s on me.”

  “Again?”

  “Again,” he repeated with a grin. “We’re developing a pattern.”

  “Might be easier to buy our own and call it even.”

  “Might be.”

  He was dragging his feet. As soon as he left the coffee shop, he would be on his own, and while he normally didn’t mind solitude—had grown used to it, even—he wasn’t quite ready to leave Chloe’s warm presence.

  “Would you like some company?”

  Focused on walking to the counter, Ian almost missed the question. When he finally realized what she’d said, he had to stop and repeat the question in his head, to make sure he heard correctly. “You want to come to Pennsylvania?”

  “Why not? I don’t have anything planned. Plus I could help distract you if you get nervous.”

  “I don’t get nervous,” he told her. “I get focused.”

  She shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t want the company, just say so.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I...” This wasn’t a conversation he felt like having from opposite sides of the coffee shop. Making his way back to the table, he stopped short of her crossed legs. “Why?” he asked her.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Yes, she did; she was dodging the question. Ian leaned in. The fact that Chloe had stayed seated gave him a height advantage, and he had to admit he enjoyed the way her chin tilted upward. “Do you always offer to go away with men you barely know?”

  She jutted her chin higher. “A day trip isn’t exactly going away. Besides, barely knowing me didn’t stop you from telling me your life story.”

  “Curlilocks, I haven’t come close to telling you my life story.” Nor, he realized, had she told him hers. Other than knowing she’d played college ball, worked in advertising and had lousy taste in boyfriends, he knew very little about Chloe Abrams. Hell, the only reason he knew her last name was because of Aiden.

  “You still haven’t answered my question. Why would you want to drive to Pennsylvania with me?”

  “Because I owe you for the other night. You were there when I needed you. This is my chance to be there when you need someone.”

  “And?” he asked, digging.

  “Does there have to be an ‘and’? Isn’t wanting to pay back your kindness enough?”

  “Sure, for some people.” Something, though made him think her offer wasn’t totally out of obligation, even if she did sound sincere. After all, while he might not run a major corporation anymore, he was still a very wealthy man. An enterprising woman might easily think his recent spiral made him especially vulnerable.

  “I’m simply trying to be a friend,” she said, reading his mind.

  “A friend, huh?”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I’ve been sold that line before.”

  “Trust me, it’s not a line this time.”

  “Well, I could use a friend....” His eyes swept up the length of her. Along the mile-long legs, the squared-off shoulders, every inch a study in indifference. Until, this is, he reached her eyes. There, despite her best effort to hide it, he caught a flash of vulnerability. A little-girl-lost quality that could wrap a stranglehold around his insides if he let it. Any kind of relationship with this woman was a bad idea.

  At the same time, they were talking about one day. Ten hours tops. It would be kind of nice, having an ally for once.

  “All right,” he said, his better judgment kicking him. “But I’ll give you fair warning. I don’t do pit stops or side trips, and I pick the radio station.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “LAST CHANCE TO change your mind,” Ian said, placing Chloe’s garment bag over the backseat of his SUV. “I can still drop you off at your apartment instead.”
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  It was the third such offer he’d made, the first one coming as they were leaving the coffee shop, and the second issued in the parking garage elevator. “Are you trying to make me change my mind?” she asked.

  “Just trying to be certain. Never let it be said I didn’t give you the opportunity to back out.”

  “Or that you know how to accept a nice gesture.”

  “Been a while since anyone’s made one, so I’m out of practice.”

  The comment made her sad. No friends, no kindness. Ian had painted a pretty lonely picture of his existence this morning. No wonder he’d turned to drinking. Unless the drinking had caused the isolation. Chloe suspected a little bit of both. One big, lonely circle. At least she had Larissa and Delilah in her life.

  Speaking of which, both of them would completely overreact if they knew about this field trip. Delilah would sigh and make some comment about impulsiveness, while Larissa would, of course, bring up Chloe’s comment about never having a relationship. Her friends wouldn’t understand that her offer was neither impulsive nor one of her short-term flings. Her reasons were far more personal. A part of her needed to witness Ian’s apology, to prove that fathers who deserved redemption existed, even if she never experienced the phenomenon herself.

  “You think we’ll be back by midnight?” she asked, sliding into the front seat.

  “Why? Will you turn into a pumpkin if we don’t?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  The grin he flashed her while shutting the door was nothing short of knee-buckling. “Lucky for you I like pumpkin.”

  The wiper blades made a soft swishing sound as they pulled out into traffic. At some point between their entering the garage and driving to the first level, the sky opened up, and the rain began falling heavier than ever. “Hope you weren’t planning on a sunny Saturday drive,” Ian said.

  “I wasn’t planning on a Saturday drive, period, remember?”

  “True. You act on impulse a lot, don’t you?”

  She was pretty sure every inch of her skin blushed. “What gives you that idea?”

  “No reason. You’ll notice I brought extra napkins, though, in case your coffee accidentally flies out of your hand.”

  Pour one drink over one person’s head... “I’m never going to live the other morning down, am I?”

  “No way. Far as I’m concerned, the other morning will live in infamy,” he told her. “Not that I’m one to judge anyone’s bad behavior, given my history.”

  No, he wasn’t. At the same time, Chloe had a nagging sensation that perhaps he judged himself too harshly. Granted, he’d made a killer mistake when it came to his son, but what other mistakes was he atoning for? Dammit, she wished she’d read those articles more closely.

  She watched Ian navigate the New York traffic, noticing how the skin around his knuckles pulled taut as he squeezed the steering wheel. Who could blame him? This reunion meant a lot, and their current conversation led straight to his failing.

  “What’s he studying?” she asked, hoping the change in subject would distract Ian. “Your son. Do you know?”

  There was no mistaking the pride in his voice. “Engineering. Got a full ride, too.”

  “Sounds like he got his father’s head for technology.”

  “Better that than any of my other habits. Sorry, bad joke.” His smirk held a shadow. “I should be glad. Seeing as how money and genetics were my only two contributions, I’m glad he got the good parts.”

  “Could be worse,” she shot back. “All I got from my father was a seventy-eight-inch wingspan.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “Sorry, basketball term. My arms measure seventy-eight inches fingertip to fingertip. The bigger the span, the better the rebound potential.”

  “I take it seventy-eight inches is good.”

  “Definitely. I’m terrific at rebounding.” The phrase’s dual meaning hit her then and she started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Inside joke.”

  “I see.” His attention stayed on the road as he spoke, but he might as well have stared straight at her the way her skin prickled, each hair standing on edge. His I see sounded way more like What are you hiding? What on earth had made her mention her father in the first place?

  “Did your dad play basketball?” Ian asked. Again, might as well have been tell me your secret.

  “So I heard. Do you mind if we turn on the radio?” Running the two sentences together as she reached for the power button, she prayed he would focus on the latter question and miss the first half. She had barely touched the knob when his fingers closed around her wrist.

  “What do you mean, so you heard?”

  Chloe sighed. So much for her prayers. She stared at the dials, afraid to look upward.

  Meanwhile, the car was stopped at a red light, allowing Ian to turn in her direction. The entire left side of Chloe’s face warmed from the scrutiny.

  Might as well confess the entire sad truth and get things over with. “My father wasn’t around when I was born. I’ve seen him maybe twice, three times in my life.”

  It took a little courage, but she managed to look Ian in the eye for her next remark. “Needless to say, he never tracked me down to apologize.”

  Ian let the sympathy in his eyes speak for him. Chloe hated the look. She didn’t want his sympathy or his pity. What she wanted was to forget the past. That’s all she had ever wanted. To pretend she wasn’t the flawed little girl her parents created.

  Ian’s thumb swept across the top of her wrist, the touch dangerously gentle. “Avoid talk radio, hip-hop, classical, easy listening or love songs and we’ll be fine,” he said, voice low.

  In other words, he would let her share at her own pace. Tightness, sudden and thick, squeezed her throat. “That leaves us with country music,” she said, once she managed to find her voice.

  “So it does.”

  Chloe turned on the radio. Seconds later, the sounds of steel guitar filled the interior. It wasn’t until she leaned back in her seat that she realized Ian’s hand still had her wrist. Jeez, but his grip was sure. So sure it practically melted her bones. Ever since seventh grade, Chloe had been the large one, the girl who loomed over her classmates and took up more space than she should. Ian’s hands, with their large, manly grip, made her feel dainty. Feminine. More feminine than she could ever remember. Worse than that, his touch made her feel significant. It was an unusual and heady sensation. One she could get very used to.

  Not to mention scared her to death.

  * * *

  Two hours west, the weather shifted. What had started as heavy rain turned first to sleet, then to freezing rain. All the changes turned the highway into a parking lot. If the odometer could be believed, they’d traveled ten miles in half an hour. “For crying out loud, you’d think people never saw bad weather before,” Ian said as the car in front of him flashed its brake lights—again. Thank God for four-wheel drive.

  “Funny how icy conditions bring out the caution in people, isn’t it?”

  Chloe’s sarcasm took some of the fight out of him. Some. “I hate wasting time,” he muttered.

  “Big talk from a man who spends his days sitting around a coffee shop.”

  “Not sitting, observing,” he shot back. “I’m learning the business.”

  There was a time when he’d barked off people’s heads for less. But Chloe’s comments simply amused him. He liked how she continued to treat him like a bum. It kept him grounded.

  He risked a glance in her direction. Ten minutes into the drive, after he suggested she get comfortable, she’d kicked off her ankle boots and pushed the seat all the way back. Now she sat with her long legs folded beneath her in the bucket seat, her plaid wool scarf draped across her hands and lap like a blanket. His Thoroughbred had become a kitten.

  “Cold?” he asked her.

  “A little.”

  He reached for the thermostat, catching the faint scent of
peppermint as he shifted to the right. He remembered being amazed by her smell the other night, and wondered if her skin tasted as minty. The speculation caused his jeans to tighten.

  “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “No problem.” Reluctantly, he grasped the wheel again. He’d much rather keep his hand on the control panel and continue breathing in the mint, but that would only lead to trouble. They were friends sharing a drive, nothing more. “Why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable?”

  “I was told by the driver that he chose the interior temperature.”

  So he had, right around the time she’d asked if she could switch the radio station. “No one touches the control panel but me,” he’d told her.

  Mint drifted past him again as Chloe shifted in her seat. Unfolding her legs, she stretched them out as much as she could and wiggled her toes. No woman should have such long legs. Between them and her enticingly-scented skin, how was a man supposed to concentrate on the road?

  Ian suddenly felt her eyes on him, making concentration worse. “Clearly, the media profiles told the truth,” she said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her wave her phone. “Caught up on my internet research.”

  “I was going to ask what you were doing.... So, what were the articles right about?”

  “You having control issues.”

  “You’re only coming to that conclusion now? Wow.”

  “I had my suspicions before I began reading,” she told him. “The article confirmed them.”

  Confirmed and elaborated, more likely. “I know the picture they painted. Hotheaded micromanager who wouldn’t relinquish control.”

  “Are the articles right?”

  “Yeah.” And no, too, but he didn’t want to get into the whole psychobabble about how he needed to stay on top—stay one step ahead—so he wouldn’t screw up and prove his father right. How, little by little, he’d morphed into the old man himself, until he couldn’t stand looking at himself in the mirror. Chloe was far too sweet and innocent to dump his dirty past on. Besides, she had her secrets; he might as well have his.