Swept Away by the Tycoon

by Barbara Wallace

Chloe nodded. No matter what happened between her and Ian, she hoped he made peace with his son.

  She stared at the man who’d upended her world. Too shocked by his arrival to notice before, she realized now how tired he looked. Tense, too. Reminded her very much of Saturday afternoon, when he’d been so stressed over meeting his son. “Why are you here?” she finally asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Frankly, no. I thought we said everything Tuesday morning.”

  Ian crumpled in his fist the napkin he’d been holding. “I made a huge mistake that morning,” he said.

  “Look, if this is another amends mission, I already told you you’re off the hook.”

  “Not this time.”

  Chloe sighed. She hurt too much to assuage his guilt. “Well, then I guess you’ll have to deal.”

  “Chloe, please wait.” She’d turned to leave, only to have him catch her hand. A week didn’t diminish the effect of his touch. Every inch of her skin tingled with memory. “I need to say this,” he told her. “Give me five minutes. Then, if you want me to go, I will.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  FIVE MINUTES. SAME request he’d asked of his son. Pulling her hand away, she tried to still the tingling by squeezing her shoulder. “Five minutes,” she repeated. Then she was out of there.

  “My whole life I did things on my terms. The way I built my company, the way I dealt with my demons. The way I raised my son.”

  “You’re eating up your time,” Chloe said. “I know all this.”

  “Point is, because I was rich and successful, I figured I had all the answers. That I knew best. That included measuring my mistakes. Because I thought Matt was better off without me, there could be no other solution. The kid never had a choice. I did the same thing with you. I decided I wasn’t good enough for you, so I decided to pull away.

  “Only you beat me to the punch,” he added.

  Chloe, however, was stuck on something he’d said earlier. Not good enough for her? Seriously? “So, what, you’re back because you’ve decided you are good enough for me?”

  Ian stopped pacing. “No.” Chloe’s heart sank.

  “Do you have any idea how amazing and special you are?” he went on. “I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough. Not in a million years.”

  Perfect words, but could she believe him? “Words are cheap.”

  “You’re right, they are. I wish I knew an answer to make you believe what I’m saying, but I can’t. I’m learning love doesn’t come with guarantees.”

  If only it— “Love?” The word hung between them, waiting to be claimed.

  He looked down at his hands, a frustrating move because it meant she couldn’t see his face. After using the word, she needed to read his eyes.

  “After I left Matt the other day, my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I needed a place to think.”

  It wasn’t the direction Chloe expected their conversation to travel. With her nails digging into the palms of her hand to keep her body from trembling, she waited for him to make his point.

  “I went back to the Bluebird,” he told her. That was a surprise.

  “You wouldn’t leave my head. One minute I’m driving, thinking about you, the next I’m staring at the exit. I took it as a sign that that’s where I needed to go.

  “I spent the past couple days in the room we shared, trying to pinpoint what made our time together so incredibly right. When I wasn’t in the room, I was talking to Josef and Dagmar. They gave me some pretty sound advice. Did you know they’ve been married thirty-five years?”

  “That’s very sweet, but at the moment I don’t care.” Chloe’s nails were carving permanent lines in her skin. This journey of self-discovery was all well and good, but he’d mentioned love. She needed to know what he meant.

  “Ah, my sweet little Curlilocks, I love how impatient you are.”

  There he went again, throwing the word love around. Each time, her breath would catch, as she waited for the reality check. “Ian, please, what are you trying to tell me?”

  “I’m saying I’ve got a lot of baggage.”

  Reality struck. The damn baggage again. She should have known.

  She turned to leave.

  “But...” His voice stopped her. “But,” he continued, sounding a step closer than before, “sitting in that room surrounded by thoughts of you, it dawned on me that so does everyone else in this world. It’s what we do with that baggage that counts. Look past, move forward.”

  “I don’t understand.” Actually, she was afraid to try. His words sounded too good, made her heart too hopeful. It was getting harder and harder to keep her feelings reined in. If she let herself believe and she was wrong...

  The hands that suddenly caressed her shoulders didn’t help. “All this time I’ve been focused on earning people’s forgiveness,” he said. “Turns out there was one very important person who never made the list.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Me. I ignored one of the most important lessons of all—to forgive myself for my mistakes. Matt, the drinking, the pigheadedness. Of course, when you stop to think, it makes sense. I was being pigheaded about forgiveness.”

  Despite her churning nerves, she had to smile at the irony. “Sounds like a great epiphany.”

  “And it’s all because of you.”

  Her? She turned to see his face. The sincerity in his expression shocked her. “What did I do?”

  “Walked into my life,” Ian replied as he swiped a thumb across her cheek. Almost as if brushing away a tear. Blinking, she realized that’s exactly what had happened. She’d been so busy reining in her heart, she didn’t register the emotion wetting her eyes.

  “One of the reasons I was so intent on fixing the past was because it was all I had. Other than the coffee shop, I didn’t have a future. At least I didn’t until a gorgeous, curly-haired drink-tosser walked into my store. I couldn’t resist you.”

  He’d said the same words in Pennsylvania, only with far less devotion. “You called it your weakness on Saturday night,” she reminded him.

  “You’re right, I did say that. Because I was too blind and stubborn to see I was weak for a reason. That I’m completely and utterly nuts about you.”

  He cradled his face in his palms and stared into her eyes, the posture so much like their first kiss she nearly fell into his arms then and there. Not yet, though. All his sweet talk was wonderful, but the fact remained, he’d cast her aside once. He could do so again. Her fear must have crossed her face, because there was his thumb brushing her cheek again. “I know I hurt you, Chloe. In my mind, I thought I was doing the right thing by walking away, but in reality, I was only dooming us both to being miserable. Truth is, I love you, Chloe Abrams.”

  Her heart stopped. “You—you love me?”

  “With all my heart, and I want nothing more than to spend my days and nights showing you how much.”

  “I don’t know....” Breaking away, she stumbled toward a nearby credenza. You idiot, her insides screamed. Ian Black just said he loved you. Her heart had recovered and was pumping with joy, the beats so loud everyone in the hotel could hear.

  Fear, however, refused to let up its grip. Say she gave in, admitted she was as much in love with him. What would happen a week from now? Two? What if he decided his baggage was too much to handle, after all, and left? “I’m not sure I could handle another rejection,” she murmured.

  “I know. Which is why I’m not going to pressure you. It’s an amazing rarity, in that I actually learned a second lesson this weekend. Forgiveness doesn’t come on my schedule. That’s why, as crazy as I am about you, I won’t force you to decide anything today.”

  The hands returned to her shoulders, this time gently turning her around. His eyes were as dark and passionate as Chloe had ever seen. “I’m not walking away,” he told her. “I’m waiting for you. And I’ll wait as long as it takes”

  His kiss was tender. Sweet without pressing, and so full of love, Chloe ache
d. Needing purchase, lest she fall, she grabbed his forearms. When the kiss finally ended, she kept her grip. Ian was her stability.

  “See you soon, I hope, Curlilocks,” he whispered. Pressing one last kiss to her forehead, he started to walk away.

  Chloe clutched at her middle. Run after him, her heart screamed. Not only did he claim to love her, he’d said he would wait until she made up her mind. No man had ever done that. Forget being rejected. Ian was right, love didn’t come with guarantees.

  Her feet still wouldn’t move. She was still too scared.

  A flash of white distracted her. From the corner of her eye she saw Simon grabbing Delilah’s arm to prevent her from coming over. He whispered something in his bride’s ear, and kissed her cheek. The softness in his expression took Chloe’s breath away. She’d seen the exact same expression on Ian’s face when he’d kissed her.

  What kind of idiot walked away from such a gift? Ian was offering her the opportunity to be loved, as well as the choice to walk away. Knowing his need to be in charge, she sensed the call to hold back had to be murder.

  She might love him more for that sacrifice alone.

  “Ian, wait!” The bouquet lay on the credenza where he’d left it. She grabbed the flowers and heaved them across the hall. Ian caught them the second he turned around.

  “You know what it means when you catch the bridal bouquet right?” she said, rushing up to him.

  The adoring expression returned to his face, filling her heart and making her realize she’d made the right choice. Her. Chloe Abrams, who was never destined for love, had finally picked the right guy. “It means the maid of honor falls in love with you.”

  She gasped as Ian pulled her close. “If that means getting you, I’ll catch a thousand bouquets.”

  “You only need one.” Hoping her eyes reflected the love he’d unlocked, she shoved her fear aside and kissed him.

  * * *

  Five weeks later, spring finally and permanently arrived in New York. With the arm of the man she loved draped around her shoulders, Chloe let the sun warm her skin. “Today is the perfect day,” she said to Ian. “I can’t believe Larissa would rather be in Mexico.”

  “Personally, I’m having a harder time believing she went on her destination wedding alone.”

  They were walking back to the coffee shop after seeing Larissa off at her apartment. The blonde had surprised everyone last week by announcing she planned to keep her hotel reservations, and go on her honeymoon. “I spent a year of my life planning this trip, practically down to the shells on the beach,” she told them. “I am going regardless.”

  “I’ve got to give her credit. She seems to be handling the breakup with Tom a lot better than I thought. In fact, I think she was more emotional about having to give up the wedding.”

  Ian pressed a kiss to Chloe’s temple. “I’ve been thinking, when we get married, we should have a destination wedding, too.”

  “Yeah?” A thrill passed through her when he said the word. Ian spent a lot of time mentioning weddings and their future. Most of the references she believed were to ease her fears, thinking that the more he talked about forever, the more she would believe he planned to stay. Thus far, the tactic was working. Every day that she woke up and saw his face on the pillow next to her, or heard his voice on the telephone, she grew more and more convinced she’d found a love to last a lifetime. “Where were you thinking we should go? Mexico?”

  “Pennsylvania. We could go back to the Bluebird Inn and celebrate where we began.”

  Chloe couldn’t think of anything she’d love more. “Why wait for a wedding?” she said, snuggling closer. “I bet the inn is beautiful this time of year.”

  “I like how you think.” He stopped to give her a lingering kiss.

  “Um, hi.”

  She felt Ian stiffen as soon as he heard the greeting. He reached for her hand as Matt pushed away from the coffee shop door to walk toward them. The youth stopped a couple feet away. Hands shoved in his back pockets, he scuffed his running shoe back and forth across the sidewalk. “Did you really attend my graduation?” he asked finally.

  He’d read Ian’s letter. Thank heavens. As good as things were between her and Ian, she knew the loss of his son ate away at him. Keeping his promise to give Matt space hadn’t been easy, but he’d kept his word.

  “I went to a lot of things,” Ian told him. Both spoke softly, as if worried that a raised voice would make the other bolt. “Just because I kept my distance didn’t mean I forgot about you. You were always part of my world, Matt.”

  The teenager nodded. Scuffed his toe again. “I, um, the sign says you’re hiring.”

  “We lost one of our baristas the other day. He gave his phone number to some guy’s girlfriend and caused a fight.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Not really,” Chloe chimed in. “Are you looking for a job?”

  Matt glanced at her and back to his father with a blush. “I’m going to be spending the summer with friends here in the city, and I thought maybe, I might...”

  He was offering an olive branch. Ian, wise man that he was becoming, snatched it. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you about the position.”

  Chloe lingered on the sidewalk, watching as the man she loved held the door for his son. In a way, she and Ian both had come full circle. After all, if he had never tried to reconnect with his son, the two of them wouldn’t have found each other. Without Matt’s rejection, Ian never would have learned to forgive himself. Nor would she have learned to take a chance on love. Now, with their lessons learned, Ian might finally have a chance to know his son, as well.

  Sometimes you did get what you deserved.

  “Hey, Curlilocks,” Ian called from the doorway. “Are you coming? I can’t do this without you.”

  And sometime, you got even more.

  Her heart fuller than she could imagine, Chloe took Ian’s hand and walked inside.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from EXPECTING THE PRINCE’S BABY by Rebecca Winters.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  VINCENZO DI LAURENTIS, thirty-three-year-old crown prince of the Principality of Arancia, stood before the camera on the balcony of the royal palace overlooking the gardens to officially open the April Fifteenth Lemon and Orange Festival. This was his first public appearance since the funeral of his wife, Princess Michelina, six weeks ago. He waved to the crowds that had come out en masse.

  His country was nestled between the borders of France and Italy on the coast of the Mediterranean. Eighty thousand people lived in the city of the same name. The other thirty thousand made up the population that lived in the smaller towns and villages. Besides tourism, it had depended on the lemon and orange industries for centuries.

  For the next two weeks the country would celebrate the mainstay of their economy with marching bands in the streets, food fairs, floats and statuary in the parks decorated with lemons and other citrus fruit.

  Vincenzo had just gotten back from a series of visits to three continents, doing business for the monarchy with other heads of state. It felt good to be with his father, King Guilio, again. On his return, he’d forgotten how beautiful Arancia could be in the spring with its orchards in full flower. He felt an air of excitement coming from the people that winter was over. As for himself, the darkness that h
ad consumed him over the last six weeks since Michelina’s death seemed to be dissipating.

  Their marriage had never been a love match. Though betrothed at sixteen, they’d spent very little time together before their wedding fourteen years later. When he’d walked into their apartment earlier this afternoon, more than any other emotion, he was aware of a haunting sense of guilt for not having been able to love her the way she’d loved him.

  Romantic love never grew on his part for her, only respect and admiration for her determination to keep up the image of a happily married couple. They’d suffered through three miscarriages hoping for a child, but it hadn’t happened.

  His passion had never been aroused when they’d made love because he hadn’t been in love with her, but he’d done his best to show her tenderness. He’d known passion with other women before he’d married Michelina. But it had only been a physical response because he was never able to give his heart, knowing he was betrothed.

  Vincenzo suspected Michelina’s parents had undergone the same kind of unfulfilled marriage. He knew his own parents had struggled. It was the rare occurrence when a royal couple actually achieved marital happiness. Michelina had wanted their marriage to be different, and Vincenzo had tried. But you couldn’t force love. That had to spring from a source all on its own.

  However there was one thing he had been able to do that had brought them their first real happiness as man and wife. In fact it was the only thing that had gotten him through this dark period. Just a few days before she’d died, they’d learned they were pregnant again. Only this time they’d taken the necessary steps to prevent another miscarriage.

  Relieved that his last duty for today was over, he left the balcony anxious to visit the woman who’d been willing to be a gestational surrogate for them. Abby Loretto, the American girl who’d become his friend. Since twelve years of age she’d been living on the palace grounds with her Italian father, who was chief of security.

  Vincenzo had been eighteen, with his own set of friends and a few girlfriends his own age, when Abby had arrived on the scene. Yet Abby had become the constant in the background of his life, more like a younger sister flitting in and out of his daily life. It was almost like having a sibling. In a way he felt closer to Abby than he’d ever felt to his sister, Gianna, who was six years older.