Swept Away by the Tycoon

by Barbara Wallace

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ian moved to her side. “There’s no need to cry. They’re only marshmallows.”

  “I’m not crying. I’m...” She blinked the tray back into focus. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

  “Dagmar did the work. All I did was smile and say please.”

  They both knew he’d done more than that. It was wonderful. Sweet, wonderful... Words couldn’t describe the fullness in her chest, so she settled for wrapping her fingers around his, hoping the connection would speak for her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My pleasure, Curlilocks.”

  With his free hand, he brushed her cheek, and Chloe wondered if he felt the inadequacy, too.

  “Ian...”

  He broke away. “Enough with the thank-yous,” he said, reaching for a skewer. “We have marshmallows to toast.”

  For the next few minutes, they sat cross-legged in front of the fire, watching as the flames licked their marshmallows brown. When the surface of hers began to bubble and expand, she let out a giggle. “This is already better than using the microwave,” she told him.

  “You are way too easy to please.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. If this tastes as good as I anticipate, then you will definitely have to install a fireplace in the coffee shop.”

  She pulled the crispy, gooey confection off the end of her skewer and popped it into her mouth.

  “What happened to the rest of the steps? Aren’t you suppose to stack them all together?”

  Mouth full of marshmallow, Chloe shook her head. “Didn’t want to spoil the toasted flavor.”

  “Terrific. I made Dagmar unwrap all those candy bars for nothing.”

  Laughing, Chloe sipped her hot cocoa. “A woman never lets chocolate go to waste.” To prove her point, she picked up a piece. The square had turned soft in the heat and she had to lick the remains from her fingers.

  She was running her index finger over her lower lip when she heard a soft hiss. Looking up, she found Ian’s stare glued to her mouth, his gaze hot and needy.

  It was the needy that did her in.

  They moved as one, their bodies coming together in a tangle of mouths and limbs. Last night’s kiss promised passion, tonight’s delivered. The moment Ian’s lips slanted across hers, instinct took control. They moved in sync, until even the sound of their breathing shared a rhythm.

  And then, suddenly, Ian broke away. Swearing, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. As she listened to his breathing, Chloe continued to hold him tight. Her head was spinning. What had happened?

  Swearing a second time, Ian lifted his head. “Do you have any idea how many times I promised myself I’d quit drinking before I actually went to rehab?” he asked.

  Rehab? Why on earth was he talking about drinking now when he could be kissing her? Chloe was about to ask that very question when she caught the anguish in his expression. The question clearly mattered.

  She shook her head. “How many?”

  “Too many to count. I’d promise, and fifteen minutes later I would toss my resolve out the window. And do you know why?”

  Again, Chloe shook her head.

  “Because I’m a stubborn bastard who always has to have his way. Makes resisting temptation very difficult,” he added, brushing the curls from her eyes. Chloe felt his fingers tremble as they moved across her skin.

  He wasn’t talking about drinking. He was talking about kissing her. “It’s not temptation if we both want something,” she told him.

  His laugh was hollow at best. “If only it were that simple.”

  “Maybe it is,” she replied. “Maybe we’re simply overthinking.”

  “Or not thinking at all.” Sighing, he rolled away, his departure causing Chloe to shiver. “You’re a sweet kid, Curli, you know that?”

  Kid. He’d said the same thing this morning. It was, she realized, his default answer whenever things turned intimate. As if using the term helped him keep his distance.

  “I’m not a kid,” she reminded him. “I’m a grown woman.”

  “I know.” He shot her a look that would melt steel. “Believe me, I know.”

  “So, I don’t understand. What’s the problem?” Any other man would be leading her to his bedroom by now. “Is it me?” Of course it was. Stupid question.

  His horrified expression was little comfort. “Oh sweetheart, no.”

  She wanted to believe him. She did. “Then...?”

  “Because I like you.”

  Her heart stuttered. Ian rose and walked toward the rear window. “I’ve got a list of amends a mile long,” he told her, looking out into the darkness. “Do you have any idea how many people I’ve let down over the years?” What he was really saying was how many women. “I don’t want to see you dragged down, too.”

  “In other words, you’re being noble.” Funny, for a rejection—and a clichéd rejection to boot—the words went straight to her heart. Call it wishful thinking, but his expression reflected in the glass looked so regretful it made her feel special rather than cast aside.

  Pulling herself from her paralysis, she joined him by the sill, her heart cringing when he looked away. Up close, she saw traces of self-reproach mixed with his regret. Further proof of his sincerity. This time it was she who brushed his cheek. Her silent way of telling him nobility wasn’t necessary.

  “You deserve—”

  “Shhh.” She didn’t want to hear the protest. Not when, right here, right now, she knew there wasn’t anyone in this world better than the man next to her. They’d been dancing around this moment all weekend; both of them afraid of what would happen if they let their guard down. She was tired of being afraid. She wanted him. Wanted him in a way that went far beyond sex.

  “I’ve got all I need right here.”

  In case he didn’t believe her, she forced his gaze to meet hers. Every muscle in his body was tense, shaking from restraint. In the shadowed blue light, she saw the desire struggling to break free. “Right here,” she repeated, and brushed a kiss against his lips.

  A groan tore out of his throat and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Chloe found herself yanked tight against his body. “Do you have any idea how difficult you are to resist?” he growled.

  The roughness in his voice turned her insides raw. “Show me,” she challenged, her rasp matching his.

  He did.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHLOE LAY ON her side watching Ian breathe. Sleep managed to do what consciousness couldn’t, and that was to erase the stress from his face. He looked younger, less burdened. She traced the planes of his face in the air above him, down over the curve of his shoulder and along the scar on his arm. The raised cord was the only imperfection on his flawless body. She followed along to his wrist, ending at the hand splayed next to his pillow. One hand from a pair that had so masterfully played her body. While she wasn’t as experienced as she often pretended to be, she recognized a skilled lover.

  Why then, if Ian was so amazing, was she wound tighter than a drum?

  You know why. Ian was different than other men. Waking up and seeing him lying next to her felt way too natural. He inspired words like complete, real and forever. Scary, troublesome, dangerous words—at least for her. She felt as if she stood on the edge of a steep cliff, one with the lip pulling away from beneath her feet. Every instinct told her to take a few steps back.

  But then she’d remember last night, not the lovemaking, but the fullness that had gripped her heart when Ian revealed his surprise, and the words took hold again.

  “You look a million miles away.”

  She started at the sound of Ian’s whisper. Pulling away from her thoughts, she looked over and caught the gleam of his eyes as he watched her in the dark. “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Four o’clock.”

  “What are you doing awake? Everything okay?”

  The darkness made the concern in his voice sound urgent. So much so that for a second, she worried he’d heard her thoughts. “Fine,”
she lied. “Couldn’t get comfortable is all. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I wasn’t sleeping all that well to begin with.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, his strangled sigh loud in the darkness. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”

  Regrets? Her insides steeled, ready for rejection. “Anything I can do?”

  “You’ve already done more than enough,” he replied, rolling to his side. “In fact, you’ve been pretty darn incredible.”

  Chloe fought the urge to burrow under his arm. Afterglow compliments were no doubt standard operating procedure for a man with Ian’s experience, and he still managed to say the words with such tenderness, her insides melted. “Are you trying to make me blush?” she asked, grateful for the darkness.

  “I do like the color your skin turns.” He nuzzled her curls. “I knew,” he murmured against her temple. “From the minute you walked in wearing those high heeled boots, all curls and attitude. I knew you’d be a force of nature.” He pulled back. “Why do you wear those high heels?”

  “So the world will see me coming.” And be forced to acknowledge her existence.

  “You’re very hard to ignore.” She felt him smile. “Even before you tossed your iced coffee. Now—” he gave her a quick kiss “—how about we see what we can do to make you more comfortable.”

  Rolling on his back, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She nestled into the crook of his arm, burying her face against his neck.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Definitely.”

  It was her second lie of the night. Being in Ian’s strong embrace wasn’t better; it was the best. Once more, the words she feared danced before her eyes. Complete. Real. Forever.

  * * *

  Something was off, Ian thought as he pried open his eyes, and it wasn’t the empty expanse on the other side of the bed or the sound of the shower.

  In point of fact, it was exactly those two things, along with the tightness in his gut when he noticed them. Usually, on mornings after, he was the one up early, looking for a drink and a way out.

  Perhaps that was why he felt so unsettled. Not only had he given in to temptation—enjoying every blessed second, he might add—but here he was, lounging in bed without any inclination to move.

  The shower stopped, and a few minutes later, Chloe stepped into the room wrapped in a towel. As soon as she spied him, she flashed a smile. “You’re awake. I was afraid I’d have to throw cold water on you.”

  Still might, he thought, adjusting the blanket. There was way too much honey-colored skin on display. Pushing into a sitting position, he pretended to lounge against the headboard until he could get this body under control. It was a lost cause. As Chloe bent over to scoop her clothes from the floor, all hope vanished. Man, he really did suck when it came to resisting temptation.

  “Actually, I’m surprised I slept as late as I did. Guess all that tossing and turning at 4:00 a.m. caught up with me.”

  “I hope it wasn’t because I used you as a pillow.

  “Curli, you using me as a pillow was the second best part of the night.”

  There it was, that gorgeous pink blush. The same color her skin turned when she was aroused. “Last night was pretty...um...” She bent to retrieve a stray sock. “What time would you like to leave?”

  “Leave?” The hem of her towel had risen, affecting his concentration.

  “I’m assuming you must be eager to hit the road so you can see Matt.”

  “I am.” Unsure where this conversation was going, he drew out his answer. The way her eyes were glued to her clothes rather than on him gave him pause. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. While I was in the shower, I got to thinking that maybe...” She crumpled the sock in her fist. “Maybe I should have you drop me off at the train station, after all.”

  “What?” He sat up straighter. “I don’t understand. When I asked you yesterday, you didn’t want anything to do with the idea.”

  Why the one-eighty?

  “Yesterday you were talking about hiking through the ice and asking a total stranger to drive me. Now that you’re back to driving, the situation is different.

  “Besides,” she added, “you’re going to want privacy when you talk with Matt. I’ll only be in the way.”

  Mostly I tried to stay out the way.... Why did that comment pop into his head?

  “You would have been in the way Saturday, too. That didn’t stop you from tagging along.”

  “Saturday was before...”

  They slept together. Of course. Typical Chloe with her bravado. She was trying to act casual, something she was clearly not accustomed to doing. Guilt stabbed him in the gut. You selfish bastard.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I want you there,” he told her. Finally, she showed her face. With her clothes clutched to her chest, she eyed him warily. “You sure?” she asked.

  “Positive,” he replied. So much so, it shocked him. “But first, there’s someplace else I want you.” Drawing back her side of the covers, he patted the mattress.

  Chloe’s eyes widened. “I thought you were in a hurry to see Matt?”

  “We’ve got plenty of time, Curli. Plenty of time.”

  * * *

  He’d forgotten how big the state university was. Driving onto campus felt more like entering a small city. It didn’t matter if it was raining; students still roamed everywhere.

  Just as Ian turned a corner, a flash of red rushed by his driver’s side window. He sucked in his breath, only to realize it was a false alarm.

  Chloe shifted in her seat, reminding him he wasn’t alone. “We played in a tournament here once. I remember the girls from their team were Amazons.”

  Picturing her long, muscular legs, he smiled. “Like you should talk.”

  “I was downright petite in comparison, thank you very much. Did Matt text you?”

  “Not yet.” Ian had sent a message before leaving the Bluebird. “He’s probably in class.” He ignored the lump in his stomach determined to remind him it’d been three days since the first call, with no word.

  “What are we going to do then? The campus is a little big to simply wander around asking if anyone knows Matt Black.”

  “Only place we’re going to wander to is the president’s office. I’m sure with a little persuasion we can get ahold of Matt’s schedule.”

  She stared at him. “In other words, you plan to buy your way around the privacy rules.”

  “Hey, perks of being rich.” If only his insides matched his outward confidence. The closer they got, the more he wondered if this plan, which had made such sense in New York, was going to work.

  A familiar silhouette near the center of the parking lot caught his eye. Driving closer, he discovered the boy had brown hair. Another mistake.

  He parked and let his forehead drop to the steering wheel.

  “How are you holding up?” Chloe asked.

  Holding up? His stomach was stuck in his throat. “I keep seeing kids I think are him,” he told her. Of course, the odds of Matt simply walking by were slim to none.

  “You’ll see him soon enough,” she said.

  “I know.” The thought made his pulse race. Thirteen years was so very long. “What if it’s a mistake?”

  “What are you talking about? Of course it’s not a mistake.”

  “No, I mean being in his life at all. What if...” Ian struggled against the fear rising up inside him. “What if he’s better off without me?”

  “He’s not,” Chloe said. “He’s going to want his father in his life.”

  She believed that because of her own father. “Not all dads are worth having. Mine was a miserable drunk.”

  “You are worth having.”

  Damn, did she have to speak with such assurance? “You don’t know that,” he said, shaking his head.

  He turned his wrist so their palms faced each other, and entwined their fingers. The connection calmed him. He thought of how many t
imes and ways she’d comforted him this weekend. Now he was about to lean on her once more. She should hear the whole story, though. “I didn’t build Ian Black Technologies to save lives. I built it to make a fortune. So I could rub my success in my father’s face. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.”

  Years of working nonstop. Drinking and working. Leaving the people who cared because he was too drunk and too driven to give them what they needed.

  “I wanted so badly to prove him wrong,” he said, staring at the rain-covered windshield. “Instead, all I did was prove I was as miserable a bastard as he was. What if being around me does the same thing to Matt?”

  Slowly Ian turned to face her, expecting reproach. Instead, he saw a sheen in her eyes brighter than ever before. “It won’t,” she whispered.

  “How do you know?” For crying out loud, he’d hurt so many people on his way to the top. How could she possibly be so certain still? Especially after what he’d said.

  “Because.” She cupped his cheek. “You’re different. You’re better.”

  Ian let the silence settle around them while he sat holding her hand. What did he do to deserve her crossing his path? She’d been a gift, his Curlilocks. The kind of woman a man could not only draw strength from, but who he could go toe-to-toe with, as well. A challenge and a comfort. If only he’d met her earlier. Before he’d crashed and burned.

  “Ian?” Brown eyes shimmered with concern.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her.

  “Sorry for what?”

  For leaning on her so much, for pretending he didn’t notice her casual air this morning was a little forced, for being selfish. Any of those answers worked.

  What he said was “For suggesting we find a way to send you home Saturday. I...” He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Curlilocks.”

  Pink colored the edge of her smile. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you,” she said.

  The emotion shining in her eyes was more than he deserved. Unable to speak, he kissed her. Hard and greedily. “For luck,” he whispered when they broke apart.

  “O-okay.” Her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen and glistening like the rain. A picture, he suspected, that would be in his head for a long while.