Swept Away by the Tycoon

by Barbara Wallace

  “Must have been hard for you, not knowing if he was staying or going.”

  “I guess. Mostly I tried to keep out of the way.”

  She went back to tracing the comforter, the pattern easier to deal with than the sympathy in Ian’s eyes. Might as well tell him the rest of the sad story. “Last time I saw him was on my sixteenth birthday. My mom must have finally had her fill, because she met him on the front walkway and sent him packing. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Oh, Curlilocks...”

  Ian’s thumb brushed across her cheekbone. If she’d been crying, he would have been wiping away a tear. Fortunately, she’d stopped crying over her father a long time ago. Still, she closed her eyes, indulging in the warmth the gesture brought to her insides. “You know what I remember most about the visit? Not that my mother kicked him out, but the fact he didn’t bring a present. I don’t think he remembered it was my birthday. Anyway, that’s when I knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  That she wasn’t worth the effort. “That my mother had terrible taste in men.” Chloe meant for the comment to sound flip, but like so much of her conversation today, the tone missed the mark.

  Ian’s palm continued cradling her cheek, the warmth of his touch drawing her in. “Your father was an idiot,” he whispered.

  Oh Lord, if only he knew how badly she wanted to believe those words. To hear him whisper them... The sentiment went straight to her heart. All the pent-up longing, the wishes she so carefully kept locked away behind a breezy facade, threatened to break free.

  It was too much. Too comforting. Abruptly, she sat up and brushed at her eyes. To her surprise, they were damp. “What matters is you’re not forgetting your son. When he finds out you’ve been attending—”

  “You don’t need to pretend....”

  “Pretend?” She pushed the curls from her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. You don’t have to put on this act as if what happened with your father is no big deal, when we both know it is.”

  Busted. She hated how he seemed to see a deeper part of her. Even so, she wasn’t about to admit the truth, not when she was so practiced at denying. “What makes you think I’m pretending? My father’s been gone for over a decade. Plenty of time for me to process his behavior and the fallout.” And if she hadn’t...? Who wanted to listen to someone whine about the father who didn’t love her. There were plenty of people with more pressing problems. People like Ian, whose amends were the reason she was on this trip.

  Outside the wind howled, reminding them they weren’t going anywhere that night. Scooting to her feet, she went to the window, only to stare at her own reflection. “Wonder what kind of damage we’ll see when we wake up,” she mused.

  “Hopefully minor. Although I have to say the ice looked pretty thick when I was outside earlier. Going to be a real mess now that the temperatures are dropping again.”

  “Well, at least my gown is safe.”

  “Which is what’s important.” She watched his reflection as he propped himself on one elbow again. “Maybe you should wear it to dinner tonight. Show up the other guests.”

  “What a great idea, and if I’m really lucky I can spill gravy down the front of me. I think I’ll stick with what I’m wearing.”

  “I guess that means the flannel shirt’s out, too.” She could see his grin in the glass. He looked so relaxed and at home, sprawled across the bed. As if they should be sharing the space together.

  But they weren’t. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

  “I think I’m going to freshen up before we eat,” she said, turning around. “Do you want me to knock on your door when I’m ready to go downstairs?”

  He sat up, and for a minute she swore he seemed disappointed at being asked to leave. A trick of the low light. The shadows caused everything to look off. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then. Hopefully you’ll change your mind about the dress...”

  “Nice try.”

  “I’ll see you in about ten minutes. And Chloe?” He paused in the doorway. “My father stuck around. Isn’t always a good thing.”

  It was just a glimpse, a sliver to let her know she wasn’t the only person whose past had left them scarred. It might have been the best present she ever received.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, the room grew cold from his absence. Chloe stole one more look at the rumpled spot on the bed where Ian had lain, before turning back to the glass. Minimal damage, Ian had wished for. He’d been talking about the storm. Why did Chloe have the feeling she should be more worried about the damage being caused inside?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHY THE HELL did he share that last bit about his father? On the list of topics never to be discussed, the old man owned numbers one through infinity. Yet the comment had slipped right out, easy as pie. My dad stuck around. Isn’t always a good thing.

  God, but it was way too easy talking to Chloe. Listening to her kick herself about her own loser father compounded the problem. It certainly said a lot about the man’s quality—or rather his lack of quality—when Ian looked admirable in comparison. Chloe had appeared so lost while telling her story. He’d wanted to wrap her up in his arms right then and there, protect her from all the lousy men in the world. Seeing how he was one of those lousy men, however, he’d held back.

  And shared the tidbit about his father instead, giving verbal comfort instead of the embrace he preferred. From the spark in her eyes, his offering was appreciated.

  She was waiting in the hallway when he stepped out of his room. Winter coats did nothing for women, that’s all he had to say. Day after day, he watched her march to the counter, her long form masked by winter bulk, and the whole time she hid a body made for handling. Thank heaven spring was right around the corner.

  “Decided against the dress, did you?” he teased, drinking in her length. Not that he minded the jeans and turtleneck, but he would have enjoyed seeing her wrapped in silk.

  “Sorry, you’re stuck with me as is.”

  “As is isn’t so bad, either.” She rewarded his compliment with a very attractive blush. Better looking than the silk, he decided.

  “You shaved.”

  “Yeah, I decided to look civilized for dinner.” Another uncharacteristic move. He preferred uncivilized as often as possible, but for some reason, when he’d stepped out of the shower and saw the shaving gel and razor by the sink tonight, he got the urge to clean up.

  “Don’t worry.” He ran a hand across his chin. “The stubble will return soon enough. I’ve been blessed with a tenacious five o’clock shadow.”

  “And here I thought you just liked looking rough-and-tumble.”

  “Who says I don’t?” he asked, winning himself another blush. The woman’s cheeks colored on a dime; he liked it.

  There were already guests in the dining room when they arrived. During lunch, he’d considered the emphasis on flames and natural lighting over the top, but this evening the lighting looked perfect. If he hadn’t spent hours driving in the ice, he’d never know there was a storm outside.

  “Glad you could join us,” Josef greeted. “Seat yourself. Thankfully, the generator is running without problems, so we will have our regular menu. Unfortunately, we are short on servers so there will be a few delays.”

  “Thank goodness for generators,” Chloe murmured once they’d walked past. “I was wondering if they’d be able to serve hot food.”

  “Hot food and hot toddies, from the looks of things,” Ian replied. Josef hadn’t been kidding about being short staffed, either. The innkeeper himself was running around with a heavy pewter pitcher, topping off patrons’ mugs. “You know what they say; a little whiskey makes any delay palatable. Would you like one?” He started to raise his hand to signal Josef.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “You having a drink?” He shook his head. “Much as I’d like it to, I can’t expect the world to stop on my account. Besides, I’ve
got a replacement vice.”

  “Dagmar’s coffee. How could I forget? I think I’ll pass, anyway.” She slipped her hand around his wrist.

  Ian could let her touch his skin all night. Such long, graceful hands. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d pressed the tip of his index finger to hers. “I see what you mean about wingspan.” Her fingers were nearly as long as his.

  “You mean my gigantic man hands. Perfect for palming the ball.”

  “I don’t know about that, but those are not manly hands. Trust me, I know a lot of guys.”

  “Thank you.” To his disappointment, she pulled her hand away, back to her side of the table. “For the record, though, I did have mad ball-handling skills.”

  “I believe you, Curlilocks.” He was sure she could handle a lot of things well. Grabbing his water glass, he took a long drink, wishing the unwanted sentiment out of his head.

  Silence settled over the table while they studied the menu. Or rather, Chloe studied the menu. Ian couldn’t take his eyes off her. It wasn’t that she looked any different. Sure, she’d touched up her makeup a little and combed her hair, but she was essentially the same woman who’d slipped into his car this morning. And every bit as alluring. “Know what you’re getting?” he asked, breaking the silence before his assessment grew out of hand.

  “You mean from the menu option of one?” she replied.

  Looking down at the paper before him, he saw it described a set four-course meal. Fortunately, Chloe mistook his question for sarcasm. “Guess asking for a burger is out of the question.”

  “You’ve got to love a good hunk of meat.”

  And a woman with simple tastes.

  Suddenly, he noticed her frown. “Is this the same table we sat at for lunch?” she asked, looking around.

  He’d been caught. “What can I say? I’m a creature of habit.” More like a creature who enjoyed the way the flames colored her skin from this angle, and wanted to watch the transformation again. “Blame my rigidity on the army.”

  “How long did you serve?”

  “Eight very long years.”

  “I take it you didn’t enjoy military life.”

  “Enjoy?” He shook his head. “The army is all about team building. One big unit working toward a common goal. I’m not exactly a team player.”

  “Let me guess. You didn’t take orders well, either.”

  Coming from anyone else, the comment would have made him bristle. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Then why did you...”

  “Enlist?” Did he dare share more? Tell her how it was either enlist or let his father suck what little life he had left out of him? The mood was too pleasant to spoil with the dirty truth. “I didn’t have a lot of options. School wasn’t a choice, and neither was sticking around.”

  He cast a quick glance over the top of his water glass and was nearly done in by the understanding in her eyes. No explanation was necessary. “I stayed to prove a point.”

  She cocked her head. “A point?”

  “That I could stick it out.” You won’t last two weeks in the army. You’ll be right back here like the nothing you are. He didn’t want to talk about those days anymore. “What matters is I lasted long enough to know I’m better at giving orders than taking them.”

  “Not to mention figuring a way to make the world a better place,” she replied.

  It was the first time anyone had suggested he made anything better. “You’re going to have to explain.”

  “Your blood coagulator. If you hadn’t gone into the army, Ian Black Technologies would never exist.”

  “Oh, that.” Guilt, his old friend, tapped him on the shoulder. Here’s where he started letting her down.

  “What do you mean, oh, that? Your product has saved countless lives.”

  No doubt, and there were days when he was damn proud of the product. The product, not himself. “You know I’m not the one who actually created the coagulator patch, right? All I did was pull together the people who did the work for me.” To make money. To prove another point.

  “In my business, we call that person the idea man. Every successful business needs one.”

  Until it didn’t need him anymore. Or until the idea man became drunk and volatile and his own worst enemy. Ian grabbed his water, quickly washing the sour taste out of his mouth.

  Once more, Chloe mistook his action. Grasping her own glass, she saluted him. “And now you’re saving the world again,” she said.

  “How’s that?”

  “You said yourself that without coffee, man would kill himself. You’re saving lives with high quality beans.”

  The gloom he felt creeping over him receded in a flash. “I like the way you think, Curlilocks. You’re good for my ego.”

  “Good. When you become a big-time coffee magnate and need an agency, make sure you hire CMT and give me credit. That way I can score points with Simon.”

  “Simon, as in Simon Cartwright?”

  “You know him?”

  Yeah, he knew him. Or rather of him. Apparently, they possessed similar tastes in women. “We had a few...mutual acquaintances.”

  “Is that society-speak for dated some of the same women?”

  He could feel the color creeping up his neck. “I wouldn’t call me the society type.” Certainly not like Cartwright, who, if Ian recalled, had been born to the roll. “But yes.”

  “In other words you’re a serial dater.”

  “Interesting term.” Sounded fatal. Considering the stack of apologies he’d written, the word was spot on.

  He sat back in his chair. “I suppose I have dated my fair share. Hard to be monogamous when your soul’s focused elsewhere.”

  “You mean drinking.”

  Sure. Let alcohol take the blame. Even if the liquor was only a by-product of a bigger demon.

  “Not that I’m judging,” Chloe continued. “By Delilah and Larissa’s standards, I’m every bit as bad. But then they’re overly romantic right now.”

  “Aren’t all new brides?”

  “I don’t know about all, but those two certainly have taken the lovesick pills.” She reached for her water. “I keep trying to tell them not everyone in the world has a soul mate. Statistically, it simply isn’t possible.”

  “Because there isn’t an equal number of men versus women.”

  “Exactly!” She saluted him with her glass again, her eyes glittering as though she’d proved some great scientific theory. So flushed and gorgeous, he had to squeeze his goblet to keep the blood from rushing below his belt. “You do realize there are more men than women in the world, right? Meaning men are the ones on the short end of the soul mate stick.”

  Chloe’s smile faded. “Thanks for killing my theory.”

  Great, he’d gone and dimmed the sparkle. Why the hell did he have to say anything? Because the idea of her spending her life alone wasn’t cause for celebration, that’s why. Any notion that involved a woman like her being alone wasn’t.

  “You will, you know,” he said. “Find your soul mate, that is.” Wouldn’t be someone like Aiden, either.

  “You assume I’m looking for one.”

  “You aren’t?”

  “Let’s just say I’m going to leave the veils and flowers to people like Delilah and Larissa.”

  That so? “Even though statistics are back in your favor?”

  “Statistics aren’t the only reason.” Her smile was as indecipherable as her answer. Didn’t matter. She could toss out all the nonchalant, enigmatic comments she wanted; he didn’t buy a single one.

  * * *

  After eating, most of the guests either went back to their rooms or headed into the living room for an after dinner drink. Ian, however, leaned close and whispered, “Feel like exploring?”

  Seeing how his question wrapped around her spine like a naughty suggestion, Chloe should have said no. The reckless side of her took charge, however, and she leaped at the offer.

  Josef had told her the Bluebi
rd’s history when he was showing her to the room. The original structure dated back to the Civil War, while additions were added over the years based on the owners’ needs. As a result, the first floor was a crazy pattern of rooms and hallways.

  “Should we tie a string to one of the doorknobs in case we get lost?” she asked Ian.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, Curlilocks?” he teased. “Besides, the place only looks confusing because the lights are out.”

  Precisely her problem. She wasn’t sure if Josef and Dagmar were trying to reduce strain on the generator or discourage guests from roaming, but the rear of the inn was dark except for some isolated night-lights and lanterns. “Aren’t these people worried about law suits?” she asked, tripping over a raised floorboard.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.”

  Would he? She’d made him make the same promise in the parking lot this afternoon, only she wasn’t sure she meant literally anymore. Ever since their conversation in her room, her insides felt like one of the wind-tossed trees outside.

  It hardly helped matters that their conversation over dinner had further strengthened the connection she felt toward him. Nor did it help that he stood so close to her she could smell the wool of his sweater.

  They rounded a corner and came to a small reading room.

  “This must be the library Josef mentioned,” Ian said.

  As was the case in the other rooms, the lights were off, leaving a small fireplace as the sole source of illumination.

  “How many fireplaces are there in this place?” Chloe asked. “Must take forever to light them all.”

  “Maybe, but you won’t hear me complain.”

  “Me, neither,” she hastened to assure him. “A night like this one screams for a warm fire.” And the flames were far too inviting. She held up her hands. The heat burned her palms, causing the rest of her body to shiver from the temperature difference.