Swept Away by the Tycoon

by Barbara Wallace

  “I don’t know your home number.”

  Ian? She was so surprised to hear his voice that for a second she forgot last night’s resolve. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can you let me in? We need to talk.”

  Actually, they didn’t. Chloe was pretty certain their time for talking had ended when he’d kissed her goodbye last night. Anything Ian had to say now would only hurt.

  But what if you’re wrong?

  The oath came out soft but sharp. You’re a glutton for punishment, Chloe Abrams. “Fine.” She unlatched the front door, then rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth, purposely avoiding the mirror. She already knew she looked like a disaster; checking would only lead to panic. Instead, she grabbed a ponytail holder from the vanity drawer and shoved her curls atop her head. No sooner did she finish than Ian knocked.

  It wasn’t fair, an inner voice whined. Did he have to look so good? He wore his usual leather jacket and sweatshirt, with the familiar ginger shadow again covering his cheeks. Yesterday’s sad, withdrawn expression remained as well, she noticed, only today a new emotion joined the mixture. Resignation. Defeat.

  Disappointment settled in the pit of Chloe’s stomach. She’d so hoped he might be different. She hated how he made her think that way.

  At least now she knew the truth. His expression said everything she needed to know.

  With a glance at the bedroom, she stepped out into the hall, closing the front door halfway. No need for Larissa to be dragged into the conversation. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “When you didn’t show up for your morning coffee I called your office, and they told me you phoned in sick. Are you all right?”

  Wait a second. “You noticed I didn’t come in for coffee?” He’d been looking for her.

  Ian’s response was to gaze at her as if she had two heads. “You’ve been coming in for thirty-two straight weeks. Of course I noticed you.

  “You’re a little hard to ignore,” he added with a half smile.

  Damn, but she hated how her heart fluttered when he gave his answer. Her heart had never fluttered until Ian. Further proof she’d made the right decision last night. Larissa’s devastation was a harsh reminder of how important it was to protect your heart. For so long Chloe had told herself people got what they deserved. Until this weekend, when she’d let herself hope she might find forever. She’d been kidding herself. Ian was no different than any other man she’d let into her life.

  With one exception: Ian had the power to break her heart if she let him get close.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Man, but her face felt tight. She swore she wouldn’t show emotion one way or another, but the action killed her check muscles. “Larissa got some bad news, and we spent the most of the night talking. I called in sick so we could get some sleep.”

  “I hope the news wasn’t anything serious.”

  “Her fiancé broke up with her. He found someone else.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  There was sympathy in his eyes she didn’t want to see, so she turned her attention to the weather-stripping on the side of her door. “Yeah, me, too. She deserved better.”

  “She wouldn’t be the only one.”

  Chloe didn’t want to discuss who deserved what; she simply wanted to get this conversation over with. The sooner she ripped the bandage off, the sooner the sting would start to heal. “Why are you here, Ian?” she asked. “Surely you didn’t come by simply because I forgot my coffee.”

  “You left your dress in the backseat of the car.”

  For the first time she noticed the garment bag draped over his shoulder. “Figured you’d be looking for it come the end of the week,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Gathering the bag in her arms, she held it tight, not caring if the dress wrinkled or not. Clutching helped her cope with the latest wave of disappointment. You’d think at some point she’d stop holding her breath for his response. “If that’s everything...”

  “I also wanted to talk.”

  And there it was; the true reason. He was going to stand in her hallway and tell her this weekend had been a mistake, or a one-time deal or, or, or...she knew a zillion excuses a man could give, and even if Ian did have the decency to deliver one of them to her face, she didn’t want to hear it. Not from him. Not right now.

  She started backing into her living room. “This isn’t really a good time. What with La-roo being upset and everything.”

  “You said Larissa is asleep.”

  “Yeah, but...”

  Ian reached around to pull her door shut. “This won’t take long.”

  “Then why bother at all?”

  He blinked. The question came out far sharper than Chloe meant it to. Usually she could fake indifference with the best of them. Thing was, she didn’t feel indifferent this morning. Disappointed, agitated, but definitely not indifferent.

  Taking a deep breath, she started again. “Look, what I’m saying is we both know the deal, so why go through the pretense? Why don’t we save ourselves the hassle, agree that this weekend was fun while it lasted, and move on?”

  “Do you really mean that?” Ian moved so that he shared the door frame with her, his broad chest consuming what little space her own body didn’t. When he folded his arms across his torso, the action brought him right up against her. With a narrowed gaze, he looked her in the eye. The intensity made Chloe want to squirm. She missed her high heels and the height advantage they gave her. They were eye to eye right now, and she’d never felt more pinned down in her life.

  “Sure,” she said, finding her voice. “Don’t you? I mean, isn’t that why you’re here? To end things on a nice clean note?”

  It was his turn to squirm. She’d made up her mind last night that this time she would walk away first. “Some people aren’t cut out for relationships, right? Wasn’t that what you said?”

  “I wasn’t talking about you. You’re—”

  “No.” He did not get to play the martyr and feel better about himself. “I’m the same as you, Ian.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Before she knew what happened, his fingers were playing with the loose curls by her face. “You, Curlilocks—”

  “Stop calling me that!” Her frustration boiled over and she slapped his hand away. Forget indifferent. “You do not tell me what I am and what I’m not. I’m the one standing in my hallway in a pair of ratty yoga pants being tossed aside, so I get to be the one to walk away. Me, not you. And if that leaves you feeling bad or guilty or unlovable, then tough. Deal with it.”

  Her vision started to blur. Dammit, she would not lose control more than she already had. She reached for the door handle, only for Ian to catch her by the wrist.

  “You are not unlovable,” he whispered.

  Of everything she’d said, why on earth did he pick that word to zero in on? Keeping her jaw clenched, she stared straight ahead. “Hey, we all get what we deserve, right?”

  His stuttered breath gave her a small measure of satisfaction. “I never meant...”

  “Cross my name off your list, Ian. You’ve made all the amends here you’re going to make.”

  Breaking free, she finally managed to open her door and get herself inside. Ian didn’t stop her.

  Did you expect he would? Chloe let her head fall back against the door. Walking away wasn’t any better than being brushed off.

  “Did I hear the door?” Larissa asked, stepping out of the bedroom. Her face still bore mascara traces from last night’s cryfest.

  Chloe quickly mustered a smile. “I left my dress in the backseat of Ian’s car. He stopped by to return it.”

  “I thought it might be Tom.”

  “Sorry.” Based on everything she’d heard last night, Tom wouldn’t be stopping by in the near future.

  Larissa shrugged and shuffled toward the kitchen. “This is Ian from the coffee shop, right? The rich slacker?”
>
  “One and the same,” Chloe replied.

  “I thought you said you weren’t interested. How’d you end up going away with him for the weekend?”

  “Long story.” A long, depressing story, and La-roo had enough on her plate to deal with. Opening the fridge, Chloe searched for the orange juice. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Come on; tell me. I need to talk about something other than my problems. What happened?”

  Chloe told her the bare-bones story.

  “Wow. Stranded at a mountain inn. That sounds so romantic.”

  “Only because you’re addicted to romance,” she replied, handing her a glass of juice. Even as she protested, however, scenes from the weekend laid themselves out in her head.

  “Maybe, but you’re not nearly as unaffected by it as you pretend to be,” Larissa retorted. “You cannot tell me you spent the entire weekend under those conditions and didn’t feel even a little spark.”

  Chloe’s heated skin betrayed her. She tried to hide behind her orange juice, and failed.

  “Oh my God, you did!” Chloe’s skin burned hotter. “That’s wonderful! Makes me glad to know both my friends have decent love lives.”

  That was Chloe’s line. “Better change the number to one.”

  “I thought you said you and Ian...?”

  “We did, but it was only a weekend fling.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” Because she wasn’t worth more. “You know I’m not interested in a relationship. That’s yours and Del’s thing.”

  “I’m doing real well in that department, aren’t I?”

  Seeing the dejection on Larissa’s face made Chloe’s already beat-up emotions feel worse. “I’m sorry, La-roo. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “You weren’t. My new single status is something we both need to get used to. But I also don’t believe you. You may say you don’t want a relationship, but I don’t buy it for a minute.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” The conversation was getting uncomfortable. “Do you want me to make breakfast or do you want to head to the diner corner?”

  “I’m not hungry. Do you want to know why I don’t believe you?”

  “Because analyzing me will cheer you up?”

  The blonde shook her head. “Because you make the same speech every time you end a relationship. You make a very big point of stating how you weren’t emotionally invested.”

  “Because I usually wasn’t,” Chloe reminded her.

  “Methinks the lady protests too much.”

  Seriously? She was going to psychoanalyze, and quote Shakespeare? “I need coffee if you’re going to do this,” Chloe muttered.

  She reached for the coffee pods, grabbed one and dropped it into the brewing chamber. “And for the record, I do not protest too much. Some people simply aren’t meant to find love. I’m one of them.”

  For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was that of the coffee streaming into her mug.

  “Why on earth would you think you aren’t meant to find love?” Larissa asked after a moment. Did Chloe really say that out loud? Damn.

  “I meant be loved. Be in love.”

  “Use whatever phrase you want, it’s still not true. You’re as worthy as anyone.”

  “Have you checked my dating record?” She tried to sound flippant, but the attempt sounded flat.

  “No offense, Chloe, but that’s because you tend to date losers.”

  Maybe you need to date a better class of guy. Ian’s words repeated in her ear.

  “I thought this time I was.”

  “What?”

  Seeing the confused look on Larissa’s face, she realized she’d spoken out loud. “I thought this time was different.”

  “You mean Ian.”

  Chloe nodded. “But he walked away, too. Or he was about to.”

  “What do you mean, ‘about to’?”

  “I beat him to the punch.”

  Larissa’s jaw dropped. “You broke up with him? Chloe, what were you thinking? You don’t know if he was planning to walk away.”

  “Yes,” she said, “I do.”

  “How?”

  “Because I’ve been dumped enough times to know the signs, that’s how!”

  She shouldn’t have shouted, but arguing the point made the wound raw again. Larissa didn’t taste the goodbye in his kiss or see the regret in his expression.

  “He told me I deserved better,” she said in a softer voice. “All I did was preempt the inevitable.”

  Tears threatened to burn her eyes. Refusing to give them a chance, she slid to the floor. Drawing her legs tight against her, she let her forehead fall to her knees. The same pose she’d found Larissa in last night.

  “Oh, Chloe.” A warm presence materialized on the floor next to her, followed by an arm around her shoulders. “He’s a jerk. Tom’s a jerk. All men are jerks.”

  “I’ll give you Tom, but Ian?” She shook her head. Much as it hurt, she couldn’t call him a bad name. “He was nothing but honest from the start.” If anything, she was the one who wasn’t special enough to change his mind.

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered into her knees. At last she admitted the truth she’d been fighting since Friday night. “I like him a lot.” More than liked, actually. Somehow he’d gotten past all her defenses and captured the very thing she swore she’d never risk. Her heart.

  No wonder breathing hurt.

  “At least Delilah found Simon, and those two are definitely soul mates,” Larissa was saying. Good old La-roo, looking for the silver lining. “So they do exist. We’ll have to wait a little longer to find ours, is all.”

  Chloe bit back her discouraged reply. No doubt Larissa would bounce back and find true love, but her?

  She couldn’t help but believe her soul mate had kissed her goodbye last night.

  * * *

  Given how she felt, only an idiot would go to the coffee shop the next morning.

  “We could go to the place across the street,” said Larissa, who met her on the corner.

  Chloe didn’t want to go to the place across the street. “Absolutely not. Do you plan to stop eating dinner at the pub?” she asked, referring to the little restaurant where Larissa and Tom used to grab dinner.

  “No, but that’s different. The pub is in my neighborhood. I was meeting you guys there before Tom and I met.”

  “This is the same thing. I’ve been visiting this coffee shop for months. I didn’t stop coming after Aiden, and I refuse to stop coming now.” It was a matter of pride.

  Plus, possibly, she wanted to make a point of showing Ian what he’d given up. She’d taken extra care with her appearance, going for a leather jacket and dangerously high heels, the kind that turned heads on the subway. The cut on her chin was almost healed and she’d done her makeup to perfection. The only way anyone would know she wasn’t 100 percent together was if she removed her sunglasses and revealed the circles underneath her eyes. Vestiges of another lousy night’s sleep. She didn’t plan on removing the glasses. Not in front of Ian.

  Forcing her head high, she strutted down the sidewalk with such long strides Larissa had to double-time to keep up. “What are you going to do if he wants to talk?” the blonde asked when they were four doors down.

  “I’m not. We said everything yesterday.” And she wasn’t ready for friendly small talk.

  No more banter, she realized. The back-and-forth might have lasted only a week, but she couldn’t picture being in the shop without Ian’s sandpapery voice teasing her about something. She’d miss talking most of all. The sense of connection that had them finishing each other’s sentences, as though they were two halves of the same brain.

  Great. Two doors away and she was already getting emotional. Maybe she should have gone to the other place, after all. Blinking away the moisture, she adjusted her sunglasses and pulled open the front door.

  Ian’s absence was the first thing eithe
r of them noticed. “I thought you said he hung out at the front table?” Larissa remarked.

  “He usually does.” The table sat empty today. “Must be out back.”

  Her sixth sense said otherwise, though. There was a noticeable chill in the air that wasn’t normally present, while the red and orange walls—which she’d told him inspired warmth—looked garish. Even the furniture possessed a worn indifference. They were missing the ingredient that brought them to life.

  As if fate wanted to truly hammer home a message, Aiden waited on them. “Ian’s not here,” he said. “He said something about having to take off for a few days.”

  “See?” Chloe said when the barista turned around. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk with me.”

  She couldn’t have felt worse if she tried.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FOR THE AMOUNT of money he’d donated the past two days, you’d think he could get a decent cup of coffee. Obviously, the university president didn’t appreciate flavor as much as he appreciated signed checks. Then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers. The man was already treading a thin ethical line by doing him this favor. Ian set his half-empty cup on the desk and resumed his pacing. Every so often his eyes would stray to the clock on the wall. Checking the time. Wouldn’t be long now.

  He’d made the drive in record time. Motor across a state three or four times in as many days and you got used to the route. He’d done this trip in one straight shot, no stops.

  Although he did slow down when he passed the exit for the Bluebird.

  Ian rubbed the center of his chest. Damn heartburn had bothered him since leavng the city. Simultaneously sharp and throbbing, the pain felt as if something had smashed a giant hole in his sternum.

  Make that someone. The hole had formed the second Chloe closed the door in his face.

  If only she knew how badly he’d wanted to bang on that door, drag her back into the hallway and kiss her senseless. Thankfully, he’d kept his impulse reined in.

  He’d done the right thing, walking away. Sure, she hurt now. That so-called casual attitude didn’t fool him for a bit—even before the meltdown. In time, however—in the long run—she would be better off. She’d find a great guy, fall in love, and make his mornings better by being there when he opened his eyes.