Taming the Tycoon

by Amy Andrews

  Eunice sat forward in her seat. “Really?”

  Addie smiled her first genuine smile since Nathaniel had parked his delectable backside next to her. “Really.”

  “I don’t think you should get your hopes up, Grandy,” Nathaniel interjected.

  “Wouldn’t that be marvelous, Delphine?” Eunice beamed, ignoring her grandson’s caution.

  “Have you got some more stock?” Addie asked.

  “Oh yes.” Eunice nodded. “I’ll show you in the morning if you like.”

  The lights came on as Addie nodded. “See,” Eunice said, beaming at Nathaniel. “It’s a sign!”

  Nathaniel went to say something but Eunice was standing and gathering her knitting. “Right. Time for bed. Farm life starts early,” she chirped.

  Nathaniel’s mother also stood. “I’m off, too.”

  Addie rose to her feet, missing the warmth down her side but not the skip in her pulse. “I’ve had the most wonderful day,” she said to them, her pulse tripping again as as Nathaniel stood beside her all large and warm and male.

  “It’s been our pleasure, Addie,” his mother said, reaching out to squeeze her arm, “definitely our pleasure.”

  Delphine kissed her son on the cheek. “Good night, darling,” she said. “It’s so great to have you home.”

  Eunice also pecked him on the cheek. “Here,” she said to Addie, thrusting a plastic tub at her. “This is for his thigh. A little pot of magic.” She patted Addie’s hand. “Make sure you massage it in good and hard.”

  Eunice shuffled past them with a spring in her step as Addie looked down at the offering.

  And tried not to think about good. Or hard.

  …

  Nate rounded to the far side of the bed and threw his crutches on the snowy white quilt. He needed some barrier between them. He wasn’t sure if it was about the shawls, the enforced snuggling on the couch, or the instructions his meddling old biddy of a grandmother had given Addie, but he was pissed.

  Good and hard.

  He hadn’t been able to think of anything else for the time it had taken him to traverse the distance to the bedroom with his damned hindering crutches. Especially with Addie’s butt swaying like a hypnotist’s watch in front of him with every swing of her hips.

  “Don’t encourage them,” he said testily. “I don’t want their hopes up, only for you to dash them when nobody buys some weird alpaca ponchos.”

  They may exasperate him, but he loved those two women and would defend them with his life. He didn’t want anyone taking them for a ride.

  And the very last thing he wanted was for Addie to ingratiate herself into his life even more.

  Addie raised an eyebrow. “You obviously know zip know about women’s fashion.”

  He snorted. “I know plenty about women’s clothing.”

  Addie shoved her hands on her hips. “Peeling women out of it doesn’t count.”

  Nathaniel ignored the jibe because he did not need to think about peeling Addie out of those denim cutoffs. “I won’t have them hurt, Addie.”

  “You think that’s what I want?”

  “I think you’re going to waltz out of their lives as quickly as you waltzed in.” With any luck.

  He took a step forward, about to make the point about being the one left to pick up the pieces when the fashion world was not laid asunder by quaint Devonshire alpaca fashions, but his thigh twinged and he grabbed for the bed.

  Addie frowned and headed toward him. “Are you okay?”

  Nathaniel held up a hand to ward her off. He did not need her fussing over him. She needed to stay on her side of this bloody debauched bed! “I’m fine,” he said irritably. “Just not used to farm work anymore, I guess.”

  Addie stalled by the end of the bed. “You overdid it.”

  “Mum is in her sixties. Grandy is eighty. Eight zero! They’re doing the work of much younger people. All that heavy lifting and carting can’t be good for them.” He absently massaged his thigh. “I keep employing farm hands to help them and they keep sending them away.”

  She took a step toward him. “That must be frustrating.”

  He snorted at the understatement. How was he supposed to achieve his own goals when he was worried that one of them was going to fall and break a hip? “You have no idea.”

  “There’s this?” she said holding up the tub.

  Nathaniel looked at it. A little tub of temptation.

  Good and hard.

  Was that how Eve offered the apple to Adam? All big gray eyes? All good and hard?

  She rolled the pot in her hands. “Your grandmother seems to think it’s magic.”

  Nathaniel followed the circular motion of her hands. Could almost feel her rubbing it into his aching thigh muscle. So damned close to another muscle he did not trust to behave itself during such an encounter.

  “My grandmother thinks the sun rising is magic,” he said. “And that fairies play at the bottom of the garden. And trust me, that—whatever homemade remedy it is from the great white witch Eunice—is going to smell. Really, really bad. I know this from many unforgettable childhood incidents. Apparently if it doesn’t smell bad, it doesn’t work.”

  Addie looked at the pot. “Okay. But you can’t sleep on the floor tonight.”

  Nathaniel doubted he could even get down on the floor at the moment. His frustration level cranked up another notch. “Fine,” he conceded.

  They both looked at the bed. Big and large and white.

  “They don’t make them like that anymore,” Addie mused.

  Nathaniel nodded. “Nope,” he agreed, staring some more. It was the same bed he always slept in. He’d just never noticed how decadent it was before.

  “The pillows down the middle idea doesn’t seem so crazy now, does it?” she asked.

  He looked at her, all big gray eyes and lovely mouth and that stretchy T-shirt molding her breasts to perfection.

  She so wasn’t his type.

  And he still wanted her.

  How on earth was he going to lie next to her all night and not wind up reaching for her when his body was telling him that was exactly what he should do?

  He couldn’t control his subconscious. His five a.m. wakeup call was a classic example of that.

  He looked at her across acres of mattress. They were going to need a bigger bed.

  Chapter Six

  The ensuite door opened and Addie quickly shut her eyes, pulling the sheet over her head as her heartbeat rocketed into the stratosphere.

  “I’m perfectly decent, Addie.”

  Unfortunately, while the thick luscious sheet with the gorgeous antique lacy edge blocked out his image, it did nothing for the derisive tone in his voice. She pulled the sheet down and glared at him.

  Or at least that was her intention until she discovered that their definitions of decent were completely at odds.

  He was absolutely, one hundred percent, wickedly indecent.

  His plain black T-shirt was snug against him and she could practically see every muscle in the sculpted perfection of his chest. A pair of boxer briefs clung to his muscular thighs—thighs that, thanks to a pair of scissors belonging to a paramedic, she’d already caught a glimpse of but somehow looked even more potent upright and moving toward her despite the limp.

  They also clung to other aspects of his anatomy outlining every detail.

  And there was a lot of detail.

  Good God. She had been sleeping with boys!

  She suddenly understood the delightful Victorian habit of swooning that seemed appropriate in this room.

  He might as well have strutted out naked.

  Addie could feel her cheeks warm and her glare turned to a scowl as he lifted the sheet and sat on the side of the bed. She felt the mattress dip and shifted closer to her edge.

  He eased his injured leg in first, then slid the rest of his body in beside her. His just out of the shower aroma—soap and toothpaste—wafted toward her as he ruffled the covers and her b
elly clenched.

  Please, God, let him snore like a train. Give the man one imperfection!

  “I have some reports to go over. Will the light bother you?”

  Addie looked at him surprised—did the man never sleep? But that was a mistake. Up close she could see that his hair was damp and curled slightly at the back. His teeth were white. His mouth truly was as wicked as she remembered.

  “You do know what they say about all work and no play, right?”

  The instant it was out and a very distinct gleam formed in his eyes, she regretted it. She hadn’t meant it like that. She just meant that he was missing out on his life.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You wanna play?”

  Addie swallowed as his low suggestion fanned the hum in her blood to a roar. She doubted very much this man played fair.

  “No,” she said so primly even she winced. God, she sounded like Sister Mary Agnes at the strict Catholic girl’s school she’d gone to.

  Sister Mary Agnes would not have approved of this scenario.

  “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re heading for a heart attack—didn’t your father die of one in his forties? Genetics play a pretty scary role in heart disease.”

  She noticed a nerve ticking at his jaw as he grabbed the paperwork from off his bedside table and regretted mentioning his father.

  She sighed. “Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to take a night off.”

  “You don’t build an empire by taking nights off,” he said tersely.

  She rolled up on her elbow and looked across the breech between them. He seemed a long way away, hardly conducive to conversation.

  Or intimacy.

  Which was a good, good thing.

  “What’s your rush, Nate?” she asked.

  Nathaniel looked at her. “I’m a driven kind of a guy. Something wrong with that?” He bristled. “You want to drift along in life smelling the roses, that’s fine. I have goals.”

  Addie didn’t doubt him for a second—she’d need a saw to cut through the conviction in his voice. “Those roses smell pretty damn good.”

  She felt his glare all the way down to her toes. “Please tell me you’re not going to start in on me about the bloody garden.”

  “Why not?” She smiled innocently. “When I have such a captive audience?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in my underwear.”

  In case she hadn’t noticed? She was practically drooling all over his grandmother’s antique sheets. But she shrugged anyway, reaching for nonchalant. Like she debated the merits of English heritage in bed with men she hardly knew every night of the week.

  “So am I. I think that’s called a level playing field.” For once.

  She felt his gaze drop to her cleavage where the sheet had ruched and drooped a little. The urge to pull it up to her neck like some virginal maiden itched through her fingers, but she refused to let him intimidate her. She had a hard road ahead and he had to know upfront that she wasn’t going to fold at his paltry attempts to push her away.

  He gave her a sardonic smile. “You’re practically naked in my bed, posing as my girlfriend. I can see enough in that shirt to know you’re not wearing a bra. And now my mind is busily wondering about your underwear—I’m thinking you’re a thong type of girl?”

  Addie swallowed as her belly went into free-fall. She was not going to fold at his paltry attempts to push her away.

  “Trust me,” he muttered. “This is so not a level playing field.”

  She sucked in a breath and dragged her resolve from the big puddle it was melting in—right along with her sense, caution, and pride. “I know you, Nate. I’ve done my research. I know you’re a pretty straight arrow. I know you’re not a chip off the old block. And even if I didn’t, I’m a pretty good judge of character. I don’t think destroying something of beauty and value to so many sits that well with someone whose company regularly supports Kew Gardens and the London Zoo.”

  She noticed him tense again, but what the hell. She wasn’t here to stroke his ego—she was here to prick his conscience. Maybe even help him live a little.

  Nathaniel’s gaze didn’t waver from hers and Addie felt his intensity reach inside her and squeeze hard. “Don’t think you know me, Addie, because you don’t. I am a businessman first and foremost.”

  His low voice was just above a rumble and it gave her goose bumps. Everywhere. She knew it was meant to intimidate her and part of her recognized he would be a formidable enemy.

  But another part of her, the part that was very aware of their state of undress, was hopelessly aroused.

  Bloody hell. What was wrong with her? She was turning into one of those women who liked their men dark and dangerous. That wasn’t her. She liked men who were easy going, who could laugh and relax and not take themselves so bloody seriously.

  She swallowed as his gaze refused to release hers, but she was determined not to back down. No matter how turned on she was, or how crazy that made her.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Nate.”

  He broke first. He snorted and rubbed his jawline that was significantly darker now than when she’d first seen him in his doorway earlier that day. A delicious rasping noise whispered along taut nerve endings and she tried really hard not to think how that slight midnight shadow would feel scraping against her belly.

  “Do you think we could give it a rest for the weekend?” he asked. “Resume hostilities when we get back to London? I really need to get this done, especially when I’m taking the entire day off tomorrow.”

  Addie blinked. She’d believe that when she saw it. Even helping out on the farm this afternoon, he’d answered a dozen phone calls, gingerly wandering around to different spots to get the best signal while barely keeping his temper in check.

  Hell, the man had been lying injured in a gutter and yelling about some deal or other.

  “Really?” she said derisively. “You’re going to take a whole day off?”

  He shrugged. “They’ll need a hand setting up for the party. There’ll be lights and ladders and all kinds of hazards. And their even crazier friend Kathy is going to help, which means she’ll bring some of her organic wine. And then it’ll be But darling it’s five o’clock somewhere, which means they’ll be tipsy and trying to hang decorations. Someone’s got to keep an eye on them.”

  Addie could hear his concern and her derision melted. It was patently obvious he’d rather be having root canal than taking time away from his ridiculous work schedule, but the way he worried about his mother and grandmother was endearing, even if it did make him gruff and cranky.

  “That’s probably the best present you could give your grandmother,” she murmured.

  She watched as his hands faltered a little on the edges of the papers as he ruffled them into order. “What? Better than a farm store voucher?”

  She met his gaze, refusing to let him trivialize it. “Yes.”

  For a moment she swore she could see uncertainty there, but it was gone in a flash and he looked away.

  “Right,” he said pointedly. “I can only take the day off tomorrow if I get this done tonight.”

  Addie nodded, his profile set in a determined line. “Good night,” she said, rolling away from him.

  If she was going to have any hope of falling asleep, he couldn’t be in her line of vision every time she opened her eyes.

  Not that she really thought she would sleep. She was in bed with a man she hadn’t even known this time last week, and while she’d indulged in the odd one-night stand with laid-back foreign men on her travels through Europe, Nate was an entirely different prospect.

  Strangely enough, though, her eyelids started to droop quite quickly. She didn’t know if it was the country air or the soothing domesticity of the shuffle of papers. If she shut her eyes all the way, she could even imagine they were an old married couple. She smiled at the thought and drifted into sleep, thinking hot thoughts about marital benefits with an endearingly cranky tycoon.
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  Try as he might—and he did try—Nathaniel just couldn’t concentrate on the papers. He wished he could blame the dull ache in his thigh, but he suspected it had more to do with Addie’s hair spread on the pillow behind her, and her delectable shape beneath the sheet—both of which taunted his peripheral vision.

  He wished it was the dead of winter and she was covered in a puffy, duck-down duvet that hid rather than emphasized.

  But, oh no, they had to be in the midst of a mini heat wave.

  Just the right weather for sheets and shoe-string straps and God alone knew what she was wearing down further, but he couldn’t see any fabric lines and he suspected she was probably just wearing her underwear.

  Which led again to speculation about her choice of underwear. Frilly, lacy, silky? Thong, g-string, boy-leg?

  Those soft, satiny, loose-legged French knickers?

  The possibilities were endlessly distracting.

  Although, knowing Addie, they were probably made from rose petals.

  Possibly wrapped in crystals like barbed freaking wire.

  He dropped the papers in disgust—he’d been staring at the same report for an hour and even if someone put a gun to his head, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them what it said.

  He could, however, without even glancing at Addie, describe the exact way her neck sloped into her shoulder, how deeply she breathed, and the differing shades of blond in her hair.

  He could also, if pressed, have given his opinion on the current thinking related to her underwear.

  Boy-leg. Cotton. Patterned.

  He placed the reports on the bedside table as his boxers started to grow a little tight in the crotch. His gaze fell on the book she had bought him and he seized it as if it were the elusive billion dollars he’d been chasing for almost fifteen years.

  Even the simplicity of a children’s book was preferable to the complication of a very grown-up woman.

  He rolled on his side, away from her, as she had done to him and turned to the first page. He seriously didn’t expect it would help, but in no time at all, the adventures of a boy wizard swept him away, and somewhere between the world of the Muggles and the magic of Hogwarts he actually fell asleep.