Normally he charged ahead and ordered for his date, but tonight he’d found himself settling back, daring her to order for them, wanting to hear what she would pick. She chose filet mignon topped with lemon-butter sauce, steamed asparagus and portobello mushrooms. In between all his questions, she’d eaten with relish—she wasn’t one of those three-bites-and-leave-the-rest kind of people.
She savored the meal and, God, he found that sensual relish appealing. When she set down her fork with a satisfied sigh, arousal sent a bolt of heat surging, making him hard with desire.
He tempted fate—and his tenuous hold on his control—and took her hand firmly in his. “I’ve enjoyed this.”
She laughed, shaking her head but not pulling her hand away. “Hearing about my favorite color and top ten movie picks? Surely you have more exciting things going on in your fast-paced life. I’ve researched you, too, you know.”
Plates were cleared to make way for dessert. He lost track of the foods they shared and tasted, well, except for the dessert. That couldn’t be forgotten.
Huckleberry sorbet and chocolate ganache.
Still holding her hand, he cut into the dessert and wanted to feed her a bite. Someday. In bed. Together. Yes.
For now, he watched her eat. She smiled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as she tasted the flavors.
A crescendo from the live Spanish guitar cut the silence between them. Natalie cleared her throat, her eyes flickering with a hint of self-consciousness. “I’ve really indulged tonight. Thank you. This dinner has been lovely, truly.” She eased her hand from his and sipped her wine. “But I can’t help wondering. Why are we out together? I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression with that impulsive kiss. I think one look at me would make it clear I’m not a fling sort of person.”
“We’re here because I like you and I admire your tenacity.” And yes, he wanted to work his way into her bed.
A fling? Maybe. But not a one-night stand. One night wouldn’t come close to quenching the fire he felt for her. And he could swear he saw that same fire in her eyes.
“Tenacity?” She twirled the stem of the crystal glass between her slim fingers, her nails were trimmed short and glistening with clear polish. “How do you know so much about me from such a short time?”
“I’m an observant man. I recognize a survivor when I see one.” No matter how comfortable he’d made himself, he’d always carry the memories of foster care with him. He’d always recognize the souls that had been tried by fire. For a fraction of a second, a collage of memories pushed themselves on him—the ammonia-cleaner smell of the group home, the nights spent in an alleyway instead of a bed.
“Recognize? That’s an interesting word choice.” She leaned forward, homing in on the one word that betrayed so much about his life. The life he never spoke of.
He was losing control of the conversation. Time to steer it back to her. “Tell me about your parents.”
“They’ve retired in Arizona.” Her face closed off, her smile not reaching her eyes any longer. “I was an only child and had an easy, lucky traditional childhood. They love me.”
The normal sparkle in her tone was absent, nothing at all like the glimmer when she talked about her children. There was more to this story. Much more. “And...?”
“That’s it.” She waved away his question.
“There’s always more to the story.”
Chewing slowly, she set aside her fork, then swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. Weighing her answer? “My parents didn’t approve of me marrying Jeremy. They didn’t want me moving away. They didn’t like how much I was on my own with the children.”
“That’s the military lifestyle.”
Shadows shifted through her green eyes, like lush grassy earth being darkened by clouds covering the sunshine. “They thought he should have served his country for his enlistment commitment and then gotten out.”
He clasped her hand in his, squeezing lightly and grazing up to her elbow and down again. “I’m sorry they couldn’t have been more supportive of your choices.”
“Me, too.” She watched the movement of his caress along her arm, but didn’t stop him. “They wanted me to move to Arizona to be near them for help after Jeremy...died.”
The heaviness of her tone gut-punched him.
“Why didn’t you?” A bold question, but Max had never been one to mince words or avoid the uncomfortable aspects of life. He wanted to know, wanted to be there for her.
“They want to parent my children, not be grandparents.” Her gaze rose swiftly and her throat moved, hard. “And I really can’t bear to live my life hearing them say if we’d listened to them, he would still be alive,” she said emphatically.
“That’s... God, I’m sorry.” The words weren’t enough. He knew that. It was all he had for her, though.
She shook her head. “Thank you, but no need. The past is the past.” She gripped his hand once, firmly, before letting go and leaning back. “So, survivor, tell me about your parents.”
So she wasn’t going to let his misplaced word go. He would share the streamlined version. Better than the detailed crap, for sure. “Parent. I never knew my father. My mother was a junkie and I went into the foster system young.”
“Max, I’m so sorry. I feel...ungrateful for what I had.” She looked down at her plate, her hair obscuring her features.
Nope. He wasn’t letting her go down that path. His turn to shake his head. “Don’t. This isn’t about you. This is just my story of how I became me. My mother fought for custody, I’ll give her that. But she didn’t fight to get clean, so she eventually lost her parental rights. By then, I was too old to be a cute, chubby adoptable baby or toddler. And I was definitely too much of a delinquent pain in the ass to stay in with one foster family for any length of time.” He kept a don’t-give-a-damn grin on his face, but his voice felt rusty in the telling, given how few times—never, actually—he’d shared so many details from his past with anyone.
“So you went from foster home to foster home until you were eighteen?” She gripped his hand.
“I was in the LA foster system. It’s full. I ended up in a group home, which made it easier for me to slip out and do my own thing.”
“What was your own thing?”
He grinned. This was the part he didn’t mind talking about. This was his moment of rising. The way he’d come into his own. “Computer hacking. Nothing big-time illegal.” For the most part anyway. More like, well, boundary pushing. “I helped people out with cyber and home security, made some money, pulled myself up and out of my less-than-affluent circumstances.”
“You’re more than a survivor. You turned your journey into something amazing.” She set aside her spoon, her dessert only half-eaten, and as if by habit, nudged the plate toward him.
In case he might want to finish the rest?
Had she done that with her husband? Max sure as hell didn’t intend to ask and wasn’t going to give her time to question the action. He simply dipped his spoon into the sorbet, his eyes on hers. That electric spark was pushing them together.
“Max?” she whispered, her voice husky. “We were talking about you building your business.”
He swallowed, and shrugged dismissively. “So I made some money. I was lucky to have a brain for computers.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” Her thumb stroked along his wrist as she studied him through narrowed eyes, her lashes long.
“What do you mean, then?” He clasped her hand in a firmer grip, stroking up to her elbow and then back over the tops of her fingers.
Her throat moved in a low swallow, her chest rising and falling a hint faster. “You’ve devoted your life to making other people feel safe. That’s admirable.”
He didn’t want her to have any misconceptions about the kind of man he was.
“You’re overthinking things.”
“Or else I’m observant, like you,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze steadfastly. Unflinchingly.
Damn, she was amazing. And he wanted her more than... He couldn’t remember when he’d been this hungry.
“Well, you can believe whatever you want if it gets me back to kissing you and closer to second base.” He gave her his best Boy Scout smile—ironic really, since he’d never been anything close to a Boy Scout. “Are you ready to go drive around the city and find a scenic mesa perfect for parking?”
* * *
Before Natalie could gather her thoughts for a witty answer—and will her jittery nerves to settle—a clearing throat interrupted them.
Natalie glanced over her shoulder to find Sheriff Nathan Battle standing alongside Gabe Walsh, who also happened to have some hefty PI skills that proved helpful with the Royal Police Department on occasion.
“Hope you don’t mind if I interrupt your dinner for a moment.” The sheriff stood just behind her, his dark brown eyes narrowed, full of intent. The poster child of a man on a mission.
Not that Natalie found any of this surprising. Sheriff Battle, a kind man who’d poured his life into the community, always had a way of strengthening connections in seemingly strange settings. He was devoted to his community in a way that Natalie deeply appreciated, particularly in the wake of the recent cyberattacks by the maverick character.
“Evening, Max. Natalie.” Nathan gave them both a curt nod as he approached the table, eyes resting on Max as hard lines formed in his brow. Worry.
Gabe’s eyes showed the same concern, although he stayed silent and nodded in greeting.
Natalie noticed Nathan’s wife, Amanda, a few tables away, talking on her cell phone, pen and pad in hand. Multitasking. It must be a trait they shared.
Max pushed back his chair and stood to shake hands with Nathan. “Hello, Sheriff. Gabe. What brings you two to our little table?”
Nathan began, “After we spoke yesterday, I had a thought about...”
The conversation launched into cybertech talk that soon turned into mostly a droning blend in Natalie’s ears. Her thoughts fell far from the conversation at hand. Instead, she found herself openly surveying Max, and noticed the way the dim light illuminated his dark features. Could shadows really make a man hotter?
An awareness in her stomach—something like butterflies on steroids—answered an unequivocal yes.
Suddenly hungry again, she scooped into the dessert, letting the cooling sensation of the huckleberry sorbet ground her. The bite allowed her a pause—a second of reflection and distraction as she appreciated the fruit and chocolate flavors.
This had been a helluva night.
Natalie had known Max was charming. But he hadn’t seemed real. But after tonight, the narrative offered to her... Well, resisting him seemed more difficult. The rawness and pain in his voice had taken him from being an untouchable sexy data analyst to a human.
What in the world was she going to do with their deep discussion? Did it change anything about her situation at home, her responsibilities...her past? And even on a somewhat lighter note, how did she feel about going “parking”?
“We should arrange for...” Max’s voice called her back to the present.
She blinked as Nathan’s warm brown eyes reflected excitement.
Max angled forward and planted his hand on the table as he became more invested in the case planning. His fingers brushed hers, so close were their hands on the tablecloth. Jolts of electricity spiked through her bloodstream as she thought about the possibility of parking with Max; carefree, romantic, sensual. The drumroll thought of his body touching hers, of his lips... Anticipation blossomed in her chest.
Scooping into the dessert again, Natalie became aware of another sensation rising in her chest. The unmistakable mark of apprehension twined with her previous desire to go for it. Throw caution to the wind if even for a brief time.
It had been a while since she was intimate with a man—well over a year now, given how long her husband had been deployed even before he died. That wasn’t quite the total issue, though.
Conversation—deep conversation—had fallen away long before Jeremy had died. True, their marriage had been in trouble. Rocky times were to be expected. Silence had become the language they spoke. Increasingly withdrawn, Natalie had started to feel like she and her now-deceased husband had occupied different temporalities that never seemed to sync up.
Yet somehow tonight, she was reminded of what it was like to be in the same moment. To share. In her gut, Natalie knew the comparison of one date to years of comfortable routine in a marriage was not fair. Not even close.
But the act of exchanging stories tonight connected her to Max in a way that being physical couldn’t. The interweaving of past tragedies left her heart raw, scarred from the weight of multiple losses.
And if she reached out again to touch him, would she be able to pull away? Or was it already too late just from that kiss, from being here tonight?
Because truth be told, she feared she might well have already set something in motion she didn’t know how to stop.
Five
Clicking her seat belt into place, she threw a glance at Max as he started the engine of the SUV. The luxurious leather seat creaked as she shifted her weight. Loose curls fell into her face as the familiar feelings of nervousness and desire pulsed in her blood. “You were serious about going parking?”
No taming the rampant thudding in her chest.
As he caught her eye, a smile formed on his lips. A devilish one at that. “If that’s what you want, we absolutely can. But you’ll have to tell me where the good spots are.”
He put the car in Reverse, his right arm went to her headrest so he could see as he backed out of the steak house parking lot. Musk and spice emanated from his sports jacket sleeve. A dizzying effect.
Looking shyly out her side window, she muttered, “How would I know? I’m new here.”
“Good point.” He winked, the SUV lurching into motion as they exited the parking lot. Silence passed for a moment as he got onto the main road, heading away from the safety and certainty of Cimarron Rose. Of her carefully constructed life and fortress against feeling. He took them north, the lights on the road scattering, allowing the open Texas sky to be punctuated with flickering heavenly bodies.
Clearing his throat, he added, “I actually took that into consideration and came up with a different plan that didn’t involve me asking my friend Chels where the great make-out spots are around here.”
She folded her arms across her chest, intrigued as hell. “Oh, you did? And what is your plan, then?”
He shrugged, eyes glued to the road. “I thought you might like to go dancing.”
Natalie’s shock took the form of a head tilt. “Dancing?” She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cut a rug. Years. It had to have been years. Perhaps her wedding...
She silenced the thought. Brought herself back to the present moment. To movement in sync with this man.
Turning his face to her, he flashed a smile and raised an eyebrow. “Dancing can be every bit as...connecting as making out.”
Her thoughts exactly. And didn’t the thought cause a rush of heat through her despite the perfectly moderated temperature in his expensive car?
“You’re really taking me dancing and not going to hit on me?” Based on the look in his eyes, Natalie didn’t quite buy that.
He shook his head and threw on the turn signal. “No, unless you tell me you prefer not to dance.”
She gripped his hard-muscled arm. “We can dance.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to go back to your place to make out...maybe get away from the crowd at a hotel? Because if you do, just say the word and I will make love to you well an
d long through the night. But I got the impression that wasn’t something you’re ready for.” He reached to squeeze her hand. A seriousness seemed to wash over his body, and she sat up straighter. “And I want you to be ready.”
Gulp.
Words jumbled in her throat as she attempted to formulate her next words. Her next sentence mattered. She needed to be as precise as possible. The pressure of having to know what she wanted made her ribs tight with tension and the weight of her decision.
Yes. She felt attracted to Max. His ease with words, compliments. That ready, lopsided smile that hinted at his mischievous side. And he was damn sexy with his tousled dark hair and bright, inquisitive eyes.
Losing Jeremy had left her raw. Giving herself away to Max would take time. Trust.
But dancing. She could manage that. Dancing could live in a box, be compartmentalized. “I believe dancing is the wise choice. Thank you.”
He turned up the heat in the SUV. “Wise. Hmm... Okay, we’ll be wise for tonight.”
After a few more minutes on the road, Max navigated the SUV into a spot in Jackson’s Honky-tonk. After he parked, Max opened her car door, offering a steadying hand as she stepped out into the graveled parking lot.
“This is not what I expected,” she said, looking at the building. Even from the car, she could hear the sounds of country music—big guitar melodies and the echo of twangy voices.
A bitter September wind swept through the area, sending a shiver down her spine, making her step closer to Max. He rubbed her shoulder.
Opening the heavy wood door to the honky-tonk, he whispered, “I’ll be fighting off the cowboys who want to steal you away.”
“You’re such a talker.” A laugh formed on her lips as she surveyed the room. Men in cowboy hats led women to the dance floor. Couples shared drinks, clinked beer bottles together.
Dim yellow lights hung suspended from the ceiling over the bar area. The lighting only seemed to deepen the color of the wood, making the place feel out of time, like a relic from decades ago.
Taking Home the Tycoon Page 6