Swept Away by the Tycoon(12)

There was a time when he’d barked off people’s heads for less. But Chloe’s comments simply amused him. He liked how she continued to treat him like a bum. It kept him grounded.

He risked a glance in her direction. Ten minutes into the drive, after he suggested she get comfortable, she’d kicked off her ankle boots and pushed the seat all the way back. Now she sat with her long legs folded beneath her in the bucket seat, her plaid wool scarf draped across her hands and lap like a blanket. His Thoroughbred had become a kitten.

“Cold?” he asked her.

“A little.”

He reached for the thermostat, catching the faint scent of peppermint as he shifted to the right. He remembered being amazed by her smell the other night, and wondered if her skin tasted as minty. The speculation caused his jeans to tighten.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Reluctantly, he grasped the wheel again. He’d much rather keep his hand on the control panel and continue breathing in the mint, but that would only lead to trouble. They were friends sharing a drive, nothing more. “Why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable?”

“I was told by the driver that he chose the interior temperature.”

So he had, right around the time she’d asked if she could switch the radio station. “No one touches the control panel but me,” he’d told her.

Mint drifted past him again as Chloe shifted in her seat. Unfolding her legs, she stretched them out as much as she could and wiggled her toes. No woman should have such long legs. Between them and her enticingly-scented skin, how was a man supposed to concentrate on the road?

Ian suddenly felt her eyes on him, making concentration worse. “Clearly, the media profiles told the truth,” she said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her wave her phone. “Caught up on my internet research.”

“I was going to ask what you were doing.... So, what were the articles right about?”

“You having control issues.”

“You’re only coming to that conclusion now? Wow.”

“I had my suspicions before I began reading,” she told him. “The article confirmed them.”

Confirmed and elaborated, more likely. “I know the picture they painted. Hotheaded micromanager who wouldn’t relinquish control.”

“Are the articles right?”

“Yeah.” And no, too, but he didn’t want to get into the whole psychobabble about how he needed to stay on top—stay one step ahead—so he wouldn’t screw up and prove his father right. How, little by little, he’d morphed into the old man himself, until he couldn’t stand looking at himself in the mirror. Chloe was far too sweet and innocent to dump his dirty past on. Besides, she had her secrets; he might as well have his.

Dammit! When did the driver ahead put on the brakes? Ian slammed on his. At the same time, he shot his arm out to keep Chloe from moving forward. With a loud grinding noise, the antilock brakes kicked in, bringing the vehicle to a stop inches from the other car’s bumper.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Chloe told him. Perhaps, but he could feel her chest rising and falling against his forearm. He should have paid closer attention. “You’re right about the other drivers being skittish,” she said. “It’s getting rough out there.”

Much as he hated to admit it, she was correct. The farther west they drove, the more conditions deteriorated. Seemed like for every mile the wind velocity gained, visibility lost one. Ian didn’t want to say anything, but he’d seen more than one set of lights fishtailing as vehicles swerved on the slippery surface. It served him right for failing to check the regional weather forecast before leaving New York. Stupidly, he’d thought that, it being spring, the frozen weather was behind them.

“Regretting your decision to come along?” he asked

“For the last time, no. If anything, the storm adds to the adventure.”

“Interesting attitude. That why you’re squeezing your seat belt?” He could feel her arm muscles tensing beneath the cloth.

Too bad the traffic demanded his attention and he couldn’t enjoy the color he knew bronzed her cheekbones. “All right, so maybe I’m a little nervous.”

He gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be fine.”

“I know.” The surety in her voice made his heart catch.

“Read a few more articles and you might not feel so confident,” he replied.

“I’ve read enough. Besides, why would you being a bastard in business affect your ability to drive?”

“You’d be surprised.” Knowing more about his sins would erase some of the faith from her voice. Her confidence unnerved him. He’d become far more comfortable with people’s disdain.

Give her time. Seriously, how long could he keep her friendship? Even now, while she smiled trustingly in his direction, he was focused on how her leg muscles tensed and released. Every blessed shift made his groin twitch. A better man would lift his hand away. He wouldn’t contemplate sliding it down toward her knee and back along the inside of her thigh, measuring her length by the reach of his fingers. What kind of friend did that?

Just then, a gust of wind shook the car. Mother Nature ordering him to keep his hands to himself. Squeezing the leather as tightly as possible, he silently thanked her for the intervention. “On second thought,” he said aloud, “do you still have cell service?”

“Barely. The storm’s cutting into my signal, why?”

“Dial 511 and see if you can get a traffic update. I’m wondering if there’s more than weather slowing us down.”

While Chloe fiddled with her cell phone, he played with the radio tuner. With luck he’d find a local station and get an update on the weather. Learn whether or not they’d be stuck with these conditions all the way to the state university. He’d already ditched any plan of arriving midafternoon. Late afternoon was more likely. Hopefully not much later than that. After all, it was Saturday night. College kids went out on Saturday nights, right? Frat parties and all. Maybe Ian should call his son again, let him know they were coming. For that matter, he should check to see if Matt had returned yesterday’s call yet.

“No luck,” Chloe announced. “I can’t get any signal.”

He wasn’t having much luck finding a local broadcast, either. The few stations that didn’t have static were out of either New York or Philly. “Hope you were serious about adventure, Curlilocks,” he said, “because we’re about to have one.”

He nodded toward the emergency vehicles in the distance.



Oh, yay. Chloe shivered and tucked her scarf tighter around her legs. It wasn’t the approaching accident that had her on edge, however, but the way her nerves came to life when Ian’s palm rested on her thigh. The touch he’d meant to be reassuring burned through two layers. She swore a palm imprint marked her skin.

Over in the driver’s seat, Ian tapped out an impatient message on the steering wheel. “A lot of flashing lights up there,” he said. “Explains the backup.”

“Hope it’s nothing serious.” Chloe spotted red and blue, indicating a variety of rescue vehicles. Tucking her hands beneath her scarf so Ian wouldn’t notice, she returned to squeezing her seat belt. It wasn’t that she worried about Ian’s driving skills—she really did have confidence in his abilities. After watching him take down her mugger, how could she not?

No, she was more nervous that they would stop abruptly and he would fling his arm across her body again. Stupid, getting anxious over a man’s touch. But the protectiveness and strength felt so damn good, it scared her.

Drawing closer, they discovered four police cruisers parked facing oncoming traffic. Beyond them, a set of fire trucks surrounded an overturned 18-wheeler. “Looks like she lost her cargo,” Ian remarked.

Sure enough, dozens of plastic water bottles were being blown across the pavement, lodging under truck wheels and jamming up against the guardrail. One rolled under the feet of the police officer routing traffic. Poor guy could barely keep his balance in the wind as it was. When the bottle struck his leg, he literally slid several inches. Chloe swore she saw icicles forming on the brim of his hat, as well.

“What do we do now?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.

“Follow along and get back on the highway at the next exit,” Ian said. “We don’t have much choice.”

Nothing a control freak hated more than an unplanned game change. While Ian looked calm on the outside, Chloe didn’t miss the way his jaw muscles twitched. “Look on the bright side,” she said, “at least the traffic’s moving now.”

Except the traffic didn’t move. Half an hour later they hadn’t gone more than three miles. Outside her window, Chloe watched as a dead branch fell from a nearby tree. The wind pushed it end over end until it smacked the base of a brightly colored sign. While the limb struggled to break free, Chloe shifted in her seat with a sigh. She knew how the branch felt. No telling how long they’d be stuck in this line. Making matters worse, Ian had turned off the radio, plunging the car into silence. She understood why—he wanted to eliminate distractions so he could concentrate on the stop-and-go traffic. Unfortunately for her, the silence had the opposite effect. Without noise, every breath Ian took became like thunder, every crinkle of his leather jacket a reminder of his proximity.