A Trip with the Tycoon

by Nicola Marsh

  He should be punching the air. He’d had a lucky escape. Tam had made her true feelings clear before he was in too deep.

  Though what could be deeper than falling in love with a woman he could never have?

  With a shake of his head, he picked up his bag and headed in, the warmth from the open fire on the far side instantly hitting him as the fragrant aromas of garlic, bread fresh from the oven and wok-sizzled beef enveloped him.

  He was home and the sooner he banished thoughts of his failed relationship with Tam the better.

  ‘Hey, boss, how was the trip?’

  He mustered a tired smile for Fritz, his enthusiastic barman. ‘Busy.’

  ‘I bet. Want a drink?’

  ‘A double shot espresso would be great.’ He patted his case. ‘Help me get through these projections. I’ll take it upstairs.’

  Fritz saluted. ‘No worries.’

  As he turned away, Fritz called out, ‘Almost forgot. Tamara’s popping in soon. She came in earlier, asked when you’d be back and I told her. Said she’d come back.’

  His heart bucked and he carefully blanked his expression before nodding. ‘Thanks. Give me a buzz when that coffee’s ready. And throw in a hot chocolate for her.’

  ‘Shall do, boss.’

  He trudged up the stairs to his office, too weary for this confrontation. If it had happened a few days earlier, when he hadn’t had time to mull over his foolishness, he might’ve been more receptive to hearing what she had to say.

  But now? What could she say that would change any of this?

  She was still in love with her dead husband.

  He was in love with her.

  A no-win situation, something he never dwelled on in business and he’d be damned if he wasted time wishing things were different now.

  After flinging his bag down and bumping the door shut with his hip, he headed to his desk and sank into the chair, rubbing his temples.

  They’d both been angry that day she’d walked out. They’d probably had a case of mild jet lag, but that didn’t explain her reaction to that baby. Strange thing was, she’d been more upset by the baby than her husband’s infidelity.

  Unless…He sat bolt upright.

  She must’ve known about the affair.

  But for how long? Surely a woman of her calibre wouldn’t put up with anything like that?

  Something niggled at the edge of his thoughts, something she’d said in India…Another bolt of enlightenment struck as he remembered her saying something about wives putting up with their husbands to keep the peace or some such thing…

  The ache behind his temples intensified as the impact of what he was contemplating hit him.

  He’d thought he’d known Rich: capable, gregarious, master in the kitchen. But while Rich may have been a talented chef, it looked like he’d had another side to him, a side that made him want to knock his teeth in.

  A tentative knock had him striding to the door and yanking it open, all his logical self-talk from the last few days fleeing as he stared at Tam, looking cool and composed in a simple black dress, her eyes wide and wary as they met his.

  ‘I needed to see you.’

  Stepping back, he gritted his teeth against the overpowering urge to sweep her into his arms. ‘Come in.’

  ‘How’ve you been?’

  He gestured towards the stack of paperwork on his desk. ‘Busy. Business as usual.’

  She didn’t glance at the desk, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on him instead. ‘Yeah, Fritz told me you’d been away since the day we got back.’

  Shrugging, he indicated she take a seat. ‘Duty calls.’

  ‘I admire that about you.’

  He searched her face for an indication that she was anything but sincere and came up lacking. But there was something in her tone, as if she was judging him for his work ethic.

  ‘Your ability to slot back into the groove as if nothing has happened.’

  ‘Oh, plenty’s happened. I just think I’m better suited to business than figuring out what happened with us.’

  She winced and he clenched his hands into fists, thrust them into his pockets to stop from hitting himself in the head for letting that slip out.

  His legendary control vanished around this woman, shot down, like his hopes of ever being anything more than a holiday romance for her.

  ‘I overreacted the other day. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Hey, you had every right to overreact.’

  He paused, hating to dredge up pain for her but needing to know. ‘Did you know Rich was cheating on you?’

  Her slow nod had his fists bunching, as he wondered for the hundredth time in the last few days what sort of a jerk would screw around on an amazing woman like Tam.

  ‘I had my suspicions and discovered the truth after he died, but I had no idea about the baby.’

  ‘That must’ve hurt.’

  To his surprise, she shrugged, as if it meant little. ‘It did at the time. Made me crazy for a while but I’m over it now. I’ve moved on.’

  She perched on the edge of his desk, so close, so temptingly close. ‘Thanks to you.’

  ‘Rebound guy.’

  The words were out before he could stop them and she frowned, looking more formidable than he’d ever seen her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘You think you’re my rebound guy?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Her laughter shocked him as much as her quick swivel towards him, leaving her legs dangling precariously close to him, so close they brushed his arm.

  ‘You’re not rebound guy. You’re the guy.’

  He had no idea what she meant, was too confused by her nearness to ask.

  Was she deliberately trying to provoke him? Get him to touch her? His palms tingled with the urge to do just that and he kept his hands firmly lodged in his pockets.

  ‘The guy I want to have a future with. The guy who has helped me learn to trust again. The guy I’m in love with.’

  His gaze zeroed in on hers, searching for some signal that the stress of the last few days had sent her batty.

  All he saw were clear green eyes locked on his, eyes brimming with sincerity and tears and love, the latter enough to catapult him out of the chair and reach for her before he could think twice.

  ‘Say it again.’

  She smiled, blinked several times. ‘I love you. Can’t believe I’m actually saying those words to a guy like you, but there you go.’

  He gripped her arms, his initial elation dimming. ‘A guy like me?’

  ‘The ultimate playboy, remember? Serial dater? Guy voted most likely to break a woman’s heart?’

  ‘Who said that?’

  Her lips twitched and he itched to cover them with his. ‘Okay, so I made that last bit up. But I have to tell you, loving you is the ultimate risk for me.’

  ‘Because of what Rich did to you?’

  To her credit, she didn’t flinch or react when he mentioned the jerk’s name.

  ‘Because I’d sworn never to trust another guy again.’

  She cupped his cheek. ‘But you’re not just any guy, are you?’

  She’d put her heart on the line for him. The least he could do was give her a healthy dose of honesty in return.

  ‘No, I’m the guy who doesn’t do emotion. I’m the guy who’s a control freak, who’s so damned scared of letting go that I almost messed up the best thing to ever happen to me.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You.’

  He crushed his mouth to hers, devouring her, hungering for this kiss like a starving man being offered a Michelin-starred buffet.

  The kiss went on for ever, a fiery union of two people who couldn’t get enough of each other.

  How he wished that were true.

  In reality, he was chary. For while Tam thought she loved him, he couldn’t get the image of her reacting to Rich’s baby out of his head; the same head that warned him to tread carefully, as always.

&nb
sp; He’d had time to think, time to take back control of his uncharacteristically wavering emotions and, whatever happened, he knew he couldn’t simply pick up where they’d left off.

  As the kiss gentled, their lips reluctant to disengage, he hugged her, tight.

  She’d fallen in love with him and, whether it was on the rebound or not, he knew what it must’ve cost her to come here and tell him.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

  He pulled back, searched her face for a clue to the sombre edge in her voice.

  ‘I’m going back to India.’

  Fear ricocheted through him, a fear he’d long conquered. Fear that no matter how badly he wanted something, when he could almost taste it, it was snatched out of his reach.

  He’d battled the fear when on the streets, when first taken in by Arnaud, when he’d clawed his way to the top, expecting at every turn to have his goal taken away.

  With success, he’d expected to lose the fear but here it was, rearing its ugly head and tormenting him anew.

  ‘For another trip?’

  She gnawed at her bottom lip, shook her head. ‘I’ll never be free of the past as long as I stay here. I want to make a fresh start and I can do that over there.’

  The fear coalesced, consolidated, pounding in his ears, yelling that he’d lost her before they’d really started.

  ‘I love you but I have to do this, for me.’

  His shocked gaze collided with hers, the depth of her feeling evident in the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes.

  She loved him.

  She was leaving.

  So much for being back in control. His wildly careening emotions swung between exaltation that she returned his love to despair that she’d snatched it out of reach before they’d really begun.

  ‘Ethan? Say something.’

  Releasing her, he turned away, needing breathing space, needing time to think.

  What could he say?

  That he loved her so much it’d kill him to see her walk away now?

  That he loved her but couldn’t contemplate following her for fear of losing ground with the one solid, reliable thing in his life—his business?

  That, until recently, being the number one restaurateur in the world was his dream but, thanks to her, his dream had changed?

  He could say any of those things. Instead, he had a sinking feeling that his lifelong need to control everything would eradicate his dream.

  He’d fought long and hard to conquer the insecurities borne from being dumped by a mother who didn’t love him, of enduring beatings from older step-siblings, from sleeping in doorways and foraging for scraps of food to fill the ache ravaging his empty belly.

  Nothing intimidated him any more. In the business arena, he was king.

  Yet right at this moment, with Tam’s declaration echoing through his head, haunting him, taunting him, he was catapulted back to a time where he felt sick to his stomach with fear.

  Fear he’d lose total control and there’d be no coming back.

  Dragging a hand through his hair, he turned back to face her, met her eyes, saw his fear reflected there.

  ‘Not very often I’m lost for words, huh?’

  ‘Try never.’

  Her bottom lip wobbled, slugging him to his soul, before she squared her shoulders.

  ‘I’m not asking anything of you.’ She waved around the office, pointed at the stack of paperwork on his desk. ‘I know you’ve got a business to run but if you take another holiday, you know where to find me.’

  ‘Where will you be?’

  ‘Agra for the first month or two. I’ll probably haunt the Taj for the first fortnight. There was so much more I wanted to see. Then back to Goa. I’ll base myself there, start looking for a place to live and exploring job opportunities then.’

  His heart almost burst with pride as he saw her standing there, confident in what she wanted, in stark contrast to the fragile woman of a few months ago. She’d come so far.

  And she loved him.

  It all came back to that. Considering what Rich had done to her, for her to trust him enough with her love let alone be honest about it, blew him away.

  With her on another continent, damned if he knew what to do about it.

  ‘You’re amazing, you know that?’

  He slid his arms around her, hugged her close, wishing he could hold her like this for ever.

  ‘I do now.’

  Her voice wavered and he cuddled her tighter, wishing he could throw caution to the wind and follow her to the ends of the earth.

  She settled into his embrace for a moment before placing her palms against his chest and pushing away.

  ‘I better go.’

  He frowned, tipped her chin up, hating the hint of sadness, resignation, in her voice.

  ‘Don’t we have time to—’

  ‘My flight leaves tonight.’ She held her hand over his lips, pressed lightly, as if imprinting his lips on her palm. ‘I have to go.’

  He opened his mouth to respond, to tell her to stay, to give them time, to explore the incredible, wondrous love they’d opened their hearts to.

  But he couldn’t do that to her, couldn’t put his needs in front of hers. He’d be damned if he treated her in any way remotely like that bastard Richard.

  This was her time.

  He loved her enough to let her go.

  ‘My Tam.’

  He caressed her cheek, his fingertips skating across her skin, imprinting the feel of her into his memory to dredge up at the end of a long day.

  Tipping her chin up, his gaze skimmed her face, memorising every detail and, when his gaze collided with hers, the pain in her shimmering eyes took his breath away.

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  Before he could move she plastered her lips to his, a swift, impassioned kiss filled with the yearning clamouring at his soul, breaking the kiss when he tried to hold on to her.

  ‘Tam!’

  ‘Maybe I’ll see you at the Taj some time.’

  With wooden legs rooted to the spot, he watched her hurried yet dignified exit, stifling the urge to chase and beg her to stay, the dull ache in his chest spreading, gutting him.

  He rubbed at his chest, pacing his office like one of the tigers they’d seen at a National Park.

  The ache gnawed at him, eating away a large hole that soon flooded with a sickening mix of regret and frustration and fear. Fear that he’d lost her—for good.

  Maybe with distance, time apart, he could figure out what to do. The thought alone made a mockery of his need for time.

  Time for what? Time to second-guess himself at every turn? Time to dredge up every reason why he couldn’t do this? Time to dissociate from the crazy, wild, out-of-control feeling loving Tam fostered?

  The way he saw it, he was all out of time.

  She’d had the guts to lay it all on the line for him. So what was he going to do about it?

  Real life was far from rosy and happy endings usually required a hell of a lot of hard work and compromise. He knew that better than anyone else.

  But he wanted that happy ending, craved it with every ravenous cell in his body.

  His gaze lighted on the phone. He had the resources and the contacts worldwide to make anything happen.

  How hard could it be to organise his life for the next month or so in order to follow the woman he loved?

  Snatching up the phone, he punched in numbers.

  Only one way to find out.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TAMARA lay back on the wooden massage table, wriggling around to get comfortable while latching onto the skimpy towel in an effort to cover her breasts.

  Her mum had extolled the virtues of Ayurvedic therapies at length, a firm believer that all aspects of life, from people to animals to diseases, were combinations of the three energy elements: air, fire and water.

  Apparently, her dosha—constitution—was predominantly air, which explained why she was prone to worry, an
xiety and the occasional bout of nerves.

  Right now, she was all three as the therapist, a woman of indeterminate age dressed in a simple white sari, positioned a pot of hot oil directly over her head.

  ‘Relax. This will help rebalance you.’

  Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one about to get hot oil dripped onto her forehead.

  However, as the first trickle flowed gently onto her forehead, she exhaled in relief and closed her eyes, filled with a serenity she’d been craving for a week.

  Coming back to India was supposed to centre her, help her feel safe, and while she’d been more grounded in the last seven days than she had in a while, a strange restlessness still gripped her.

  She’d expected an instant fix coming back here. Crazy, considering what she’d been through, but at least she could relax here without fear of opening a newspaper or turning on a television to find evidence of Richard’s disregard leering at her.

  The oil stream stopped as she squinted through one eye, watching the woman straightening the oil pot before she delved bony fingers through her hair to her scalp.

  ‘Too tense, too tense.’ She tut-tutted, digging her fingers deeper until Tamara sighed, determined to ignore her negative thoughts and luxuriate under the expert tutelage of massaging fingers.

  ‘Breathe. Let the oils help you.’

  Great, she’d stumbled across another wannabe fortune-teller.

  Though, from the tension in her muscles, it didn’t take a psychic to figure out she was anxious about something.

  ‘Sandalwood is good for stress, frankincense for fear, gardenia for anger. Breathe, let the oils work for you.’

  Yeah, she was stressed. Discovering your husband was a lying, cheating hound and his mistress had just told the world about it led to loads of stress. Not to mention the baby bonus.

  And she was scared—scared she’d made the wrong decision in leaving behind the one man who’d brought joy to her life in a very long time.

  As for anger, she’d thought she’d left all that behind when she’d walked away from Sonja and all she stood for.

  ‘Your dosha needs soothing, many treatments. Abhyanga and aromatherapy today, meditation tomorrow, colour and gem therapy the day after. Yes?’

  She could handle abhyanga—this massage really was to die for—and the oils and meditation at a pinch, but she had the feeling that this wise woman was giving her a sales pitch along with the amateur psychobabble.