Taking Home the Tycoon

by Catherine Mann

  “You’re fine. You’re just being thoughtful, to me and the whole town. I want to do my part to say thank you and this is the only way I can contribute.”

  He laughed, a rich sound like caramel. His hand touched her wrist, the scent of his spiced cologne dripping in the space between them. “Then I’ll gladly accept the room and the pastries, too.”

  Her stomach did back flips as she arched an eyebrow his way. “How do you know they’re any good?”

  “I did my research.”

  “Don’t you let anything in life be a surprise?” She opened the door to his room. Late-afternoon sun streamed in through the old, warped glass window, casting shadows over the bed and threshold.

  “Not if I can help it.” He took a step closer to her. The light from the room seemed to pierce through his T-shirt, showcase his well-maintained chest. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, the muscles flexing.

  The electric pulse of his smile sent her reeling. She watched the way his lips folded into a smile. A spark. No—ten thousand sparks danced in the air. “I need to get back downstairs.”

  She took a step back, stumbled a little.

  “To your children,” he said with a knowing look in his eyes.

  If she just leaned forward, into him, what would happen? The idea was tempting.

  But it wasn’t a reality she’d let herself pursue. Natalie straightened, drew herself up to full height. “Actually, the children are with the local dog trainer. She’s on the clock.” She wasn’t going to let this man know how much he’d rattled her. She was a businesswoman. Not as wealthy as him, but her job mattered, her life was full. “I need to return to my customers. Let me know if you need anything during your stay.”

  A flame lit his eyes.

  Ah, hell. She hadn’t meant it that way. Or had she?

  Either way, she needed to shut up, now, and put some distance between herself and this muscle-bound distraction.

  * * *

  Dropping to sit on the edge of his overstuffed king-size bed, Max surveyed the room. Over the past few hours, he’d transformed the space into a makeshift computer lab. The oak desk, which originally had a globe from the early 1900s, a stack of old novels and a vintage-inspired notepad on top of it, along with three screens, a mouse, a hard drive and an elaborate, curved keyboard. Nothing was plugged in yet, but the layout would do.

  He stood and pulled out an array of wires from one of his bags. Crawling beneath the oak desk, he began hooking up the system, determined to catch the creep who had dared go after Chelsea’s friends. After setting up the cords, he slunk into a plush leather chair and turned on the computer network system. An array of muted dings and computer groans greeted him, making his room in the Cimarron Rose feel a bit more like home.

  While he waited for the remote access to connect with his home system, he spun around in his chair. The cream color of the walls made the room feel cozy, especially with the rich browns and oranges that made up the decor. A vintage map of the world was sprawled above the four-poster bed, and other travel accents—an old camera, repurposed suitcases—punctuated the room.

  He glanced at his watch and was shocked. Somehow the setup of his mobile workstation had taken him a few hours—it was nearing midnight. He needed to stretch.

  Pacing around his room, he made his way to the far corner to the window. He scanned the area, noting the play of shadows in the yard...and someone on the wrought iron bench beneath the oak tree.

  Natalie.

  Natalie beneath the tree with a glass of wine looking as relaxed and natural as a wood sprite.

  There. That was his opening. She sat under the oak, her strawberry blond hair soaking up the moon glow. Serene and unguarded. Filled with an urgency to talk to her, he started down the stairs.

  Careful to close the door behind him without a sound, he strode toward her, his feet drawn to her before he even figured out what the hell he was doing here. “Do your guests get wine?”

  A smile formed on his lips as she turned to find the source of his voice.

  She tilted her head back and forth, an exaggeration that exposed the length of her neck and the grace of her movements. Eyebrows raised, she looked at him and lifted her glass. “I’m not sure my grocery-store vintage is up to your elite standards.”

  “How do you know what my vino standards are?” he returned, just as playfully, taking a seat next to her.

  Natalie pursed her lips, folded her legs into the lotus position and turned to face him on the bench. “Seriously? Someone with your income?” She took another sip and held her glass up to the moonlight as if to examine its nuances. “You wouldn’t pick this.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be my first choice, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy a glass. Well, unless maybe you have beer instead.”

  She laughed softly, lowly. “I guess I did offer you a place to stay as my part of thanking you for helping with this cyberwacko.” She started to push herself up from the bench. “I have four left from a six-pack of beer in the fridge. It was for Tom Knox when his family visited.”

  He put his hand on her wrist. “You don’t need to wait on me. I can get my own beer. If you don’t mind me reaching around in your fridge, that is.”

  She sank back down. “I’m more than happy to rest my feet.”

  Max went back inside to the kitchen. The cabinets were painted white, a vibe reminiscent of the 1970s. A beautiful orchid was placed on the kitchen table—vibrant violet.

  He made his way to the stout yellow fridge and popped it open. An array of juice boxes and snacks covered the shelves. After some shuffling, he found a beer and headed back outside.

  Earlier today, covered in flour, Natalie had been enchanting. Sitting beneath this tree, drenched in starlight and moonlight, she was ethereal. Her hair, loose, natural, rested elegantly on her slender shoulders.

  Damn. He should have gotten two beers. No going back now. Opening the bottle, he sat down next to her. She lifted her glass and he clinked his bottle against her drink. “Cheers, Natalie. To solving a mystery.”

  “To altruistic millionaires.” She laughed, then sipped her wine.

  Billionaire. But he didn’t think that would do much to advance his cause of getting closer to her.

  Was that what he was doing?

  Hell, yes, he wanted to taste her. Right now he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted...anything.

  He took a swig of his beer, the hoppy flavor settling on his palate.

  In this moment, underneath the stars and tree limbs, Natalie seemed so easygoing, so much less guarded than she had that afternoon. “Glad you found your brew.”

  “It was tough at first, tucked behind the juice boxes.”

  She laughed, choked a little on a sip of wine, then pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth. “Sorry about that. I should have warned you.”

  “Not a problem. You’re a mom. I figure juice boxes come with the territory.” Natalie just nodded in response, staring out toward the road.

  A night orchestra filled the space between them. Low chirps of active crickets, the occasional rustle of a slight autumn wind through the branches. In the distance, he could hear car tires rolling over the mixture of dirt and pavement. No wonder she liked this time of night. “Your kids are cute. Your daughter sure is a little chatterbox.”

  “I think sometimes she is filling in the blanks for her brother.” She stared into her glass, lightly swirling the wine along the sides of the crystal. “My son’s been diagnosed on the spectrum for autism.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her sudden desire to share this private moment struck a chord with Max. As if by instinct, his hand went to hers and he squeezed it reassuringly, noting the way she squeezed back. Max brought his hand back to his side, aware of the absence of warmth.

  “I’m just g
lad we got the diagnosis. Early intervention is key to giving him the most life has to offer. Actually, that’s true for any child. Proactive parenting.”

  “And you’re doing it alone.”

  “I am, which doesn’t leave me any free time. You need to understand that.”

  “You’re a superb mother. You don’t need to ever apologize for that.” Another swig of beer. As he swallowed, he tried to push his own childhood back to the dark morass of his mind. When he was six, his mother had abandoned him. No explanation. Just gone. He became yet another child of the foster care system, cycling through homes, but never finding a permanent place. Never finding a family of his own. Unadoptable. All these years later, the label and reality still stung.

  “We’re training Miss Molly to help Colby in a number of ways.” She combed her fingers through her hair as she turned to face him.

  He shifted to face her, closer, as if the rest of the world was outside their pocket of space here. “Like a service dog?”

  “Eventually. Right now she would qualify as an ESA—emotional support animal. However, there’s no public access with that, but Colby’s doctors can quantify how she helps ease his panic attacks. With training, we hope to hone that to where she can assist him in school, the store, and make so many more places accessible to him. My son is also quite the escape artist, so it helps having Miss Molly stick close to him. She barks when we call, even if he won’t answer.”

  “I don’t mean to sound dense, but why not just get a dog that’s already trained?” Parenting, along with the world of disability and service animals, felt like a foreign language to him, but he was eager to learn more.

  “The waiting list for most agencies is one to two years, if they’ll even partner a dog with a child as young as Colby. Few groups will. We didn’t have a lot of options left to us in this arena.” He took in the slump in her spine, her downcast eyes and the pain pulsing in her tight-lipped smile.

  He scooted closer to her, raised her chin. Shining emerald eyes met his, and a deep exhale passed from her lips to his receding hand. “But you investigated. You found answers.”

  Natalie the fighter. Natalie the woman who didn’t quit. He admired that.

  “Of course. We worked with the trainer and with Megan at the local shelter. They were fantastic in identifying a dog with potential for the job.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “There’s always the chance Miss Molly won’t be able to complete the training to the level we hope. That’s a risk with any dog in training. But we’re already getting some help with Colby now in the way she offers comfort and sticks close to him. And we’re committed to keeping her regardless of how far she progresses in her ability to learn.”

  “Even if you have to start training with another dog?”

  “Yes, even if. For now, though, we’re taking things a day at a time, doing the best we can.” A stronger, more resolute smile formed on her face, as if she was replaying some scene in her mind.

  “You’re doing a damn fine job now,” he affirmed before taking another sip of his beer, listening to the continued sound of crickets.

  “Miss Molly already passed her Canine Good Citizen test. We’re not taking this lightly. It’s against the law to pass off a fake service dog.”

  “I didn’t say you were.” Max stretched his arms, expanding his chest, and let out a low sigh.

  “I’m sorry to be defensive. People understand Seeing Eye dogs and dogs that assist with mobility. But when the animal is helping with developmental or emotional disabilities, people can be incredibly...rude and unenlightened.” Just as before, Natalie’s gaze turned downward, pain evident in every part of her.

  “Then enlighten me.” He tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

  She angled her head away. “I think we need to be careful here.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, wanting her to spell it out. What they were feeling.

  “I didn’t invite you here as anything but a guest.”

  “Understood.”

  “An attraction is just that. An attraction. It doesn’t have to be acted on.”

  “Fair enough.” He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his bottle, retreating for now. But only to regroup. “I appreciate your generosity with the room. Your place here offers a homey feel I don’t find often in my travels. Now back to talking about your dog. I want to know more about the training.”

  Even in the moonlight, he noticed a blush rise on her neck. She sipped her wine, before talking into the glass. “You’re just being polite.”

  “I’m curious. Explain it so my techie mind understands.”

  “Okay, have you heard about studies on dogs that can sniff out cancer?”

  “I have.” He nodded, gesturing with his beer. “I assume it’s like drug-sniffing dogs.”

  “Nice analogy. And there are dogs that alert to seizures and diabetes glucose drops.”

  “Keep talking.” He genuinely wanted to know. And God, he also liked the sound of her voice.

  “Those all involve chemical changes in the body, with physical tells. Think of processing issues and stress from autism in the same way. We can teach the dog to anticipate problems, assist in managing the environment... Your eyes are glazing over.”

  Narrowing his gaze, he processed the implications of what she was saying.

  “No, I’m thinking. It makes sense.” He leaned forward, looking past her, eyes alert on the surrounding area, always looking and observing. A calm street in a calm town, no threat to either of them present here. Old habits stayed with him, probably would forever. Including his drive to help, which was giving life to a deep protectiveness for this woman carving out a life on her own in the face of challenges that would have caused many people to crumble. “Have you got an online presence to chronicle your journey with Miss Molly and Colby?”

  “In all my free time?” she asked drily.

  “You could make a difference for others. Let me help set something up for you. I can make it very user friendly. And you would be surprised at the reach you can get with adding in guest bloggers like your trainer, your vet, people here in town.” He grinned. “The cyberworld isn’t all bad, you know.”

  “Why would you do that for me?” Her slender fingertips traced the rim of her wineglass, and she tilted her head in wonderment.

  “Because what you’re doing is important. You wanted to help. I like to help. I’m a lucky man. I can do what I want with my time. No worries about income. It’s not a huge sacrifice really. I’ll get one of my techs to work with your trainer. Free publicity for her, since she’s volunteering her time at a discount to you. Call it paying things forward.”

  Her eyes lifted in surprise. “That’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

  A crooked smile spread across his face. “I’m not doing it just to be kind.”

  “Then why are you?” She leaned into him, desire flashing in her eyes.

  “It’s a good thing to do...” He angled closer, unable to resist. “And because I really, really want to get on your good side so you’ll let me kiss you.”

  Three

  Determined to put a hint of space between them even if she couldn’t will herself to just walk away, Natalie flattened a hand to his chest.

  The hard, muscled wall of his chest.

  Gulp.

  “I’m complimented you want to kiss me, but that’s not included in the bed-and-breakfast package.”

  He chuckled, the rumble of his laugh vibrating against her hand. “That’s the nicest put-down I’ve ever received.”

  Gaining strength, she let out her own low laugh, arching her eyebrows, taking him in, trying to focus on the crisp September air instead of his musky scent. Or the way the shadows played up his bad-b
oy mystique. “I imagine you don’t often get told no.”

  “Another compliment. For someone who is rejecting me, you’re doing it very nicely.” Voice still throaty, he swallowed, eyes fixed on hers.

  “So you hear me saying no to your advance?”

  He shook his head, the line of his lips growing taut. Sincere. “I hear you. No is no. I just want you to remember I still feel the same way. I want to kiss you. Very much. And if you decide you want to act on this attraction, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

  The courtyard dimmed ever so slightly. The moody stars seemed brighter as the lights from the B and B went out one by one. People were making their way to bed. She ought to be moving in that direction, too. Away from Max. Away from the way his aqua stare sent her reeling.

  “You assume the attraction is mutual.” A lame defense. She knew it as soon as the words flicked from her tongue into the night air.

  He stayed quiet and held her gaze.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Attraction exists. But I think it’s fair to say people don’t act every time they’re attracted to someone.” She looked past him, toward the street. A neighbor walking a border collie shuffled by in a half daze. The sound of gravel shifting beneath paws and feet gave her something else to focus on besides the tempting muscled man in front of her.

  “Touché.”

  “You’re conceding?” Narrowing her eyes, she tucked a few strands of hair behind ear, unconvinced.

  Max passed the now-empty beer bottle from hand to hand, the green glass glinting. “Not giving in. Just noting your point, since you noted mine. We are attracted to each other. I consider that a huge win. I’m a patient man, especially when the stakes are important.” He leaned forward, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Very important.”

  “A kiss? Really?” She’d never met a man patient for a kiss.

  He leaned close, so close his breath caressed her face. “Yes, really. What I believe is going to be a really amazing kiss.”

  He smiled at her, collecting his empty bottle and her glass as he stood. His absence allowed for the light breeze to brush her exposed skin, leaving her aware of just how close they’d been sitting. How easy it would have been to act on any of her feelings and temptations. How she simply could not allow herself to do that.