Swept Away by the Tycoon(17)

“Don’t worry.” He ran a hand across his chin. “The stubble will return soon enough. I’ve been blessed with a tenacious five o’clock shadow.”

“And here I thought you just liked looking rough-and-tumble.”

“Who says I don’t?” he asked, winning himself another blush. The woman’s cheeks colored on a dime; he liked it.

There were already guests in the dining room when they arrived. During lunch, he’d considered the emphasis on flames and natural lighting over the top, but this evening the lighting looked perfect. If he hadn’t spent hours driving in the ice, he’d never know there was a storm outside.

“Glad you could join us,” Josef greeted. “Seat yourself. Thankfully, the generator is running without problems, so we will have our regular menu. Unfortunately, we are short on servers so there will be a few delays.”

“Thank goodness for generators,” Chloe murmured once they’d walked past. “I was wondering if they’d be able to serve hot food.”

“Hot food and hot toddies, from the looks of things,” Ian replied. Josef hadn’t been kidding about being short staffed, either. The innkeeper himself was running around with a heavy pewter pitcher, topping off patrons’ mugs. “You know what they say; a little whiskey makes any delay palatable. Would you like one?” He started to raise his hand to signal Josef.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“You having a drink?” He shook his head. “Much as I’d like it to, I can’t expect the world to stop on my account. Besides, I’ve got a replacement vice.”

“Dagmar’s coffee. How could I forget? I think I’ll pass, anyway.” She slipped her hand around his wrist.

Ian could let her touch his skin all night. Such long, graceful hands. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d pressed the tip of his index finger to hers. “I see what you mean about wingspan.” Her fingers were nearly as long as his.

“You mean my gigantic man hands. Perfect for palming the ball.”

“I don’t know about that, but those are not manly hands. Trust me, I know a lot of guys.”

“Thank you.” To his disappointment, she pulled her hand away, back to her side of the table. “For the record, though, I did have mad ball-handling skills.”

“I believe you, Curlilocks.” He was sure she could handle a lot of things well. Grabbing his water glass, he took a long drink, wishing the unwanted sentiment out of his head.

Silence settled over the table while they studied the menu. Or rather, Chloe studied the menu. Ian couldn’t take his eyes off her. It wasn’t that she looked any different. Sure, she’d touched up her makeup a little and combed her hair, but she was essentially the same woman who’d slipped into his car this morning. And every bit as alluring. “Know what you’re getting?” he asked, breaking the silence before his assessment grew out of hand.

“You mean from the menu option of one?” she replied.

Looking down at the paper before him, he saw it described a set four-course meal. Fortunately, Chloe mistook his question for sarcasm. “Guess asking for a burger is out of the question.”

“You’ve got to love a good hunk of meat.”

And a woman with simple tastes.

Suddenly, he noticed her frown. “Is this the same table we sat at for lunch?” she asked, looking around.

He’d been caught. “What can I say? I’m a creature of habit.” More like a creature who enjoyed the way the flames colored her skin from this angle, and wanted to watch the transformation again. “Blame my rigidity on the army.”

“How long did you serve?”

“Eight very long years.”

“I take it you didn’t enjoy military life.”

“Enjoy?” He shook his head. “The army is all about team building. One big unit working toward a common goal. I’m not exactly a team player.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t take orders well, either.”

Coming from anyone else, the comment would have made him bristle. “Guilty as charged.”

“Then why did you...”

“Enlist?” Did he dare share more? Tell her how it was either enlist or let his father suck what little life he had left out of him? The mood was too pleasant to spoil with the dirty truth. “I didn’t have a lot of options. School wasn’t a choice, and neither was sticking around.”

He cast a quick glance over the top of his water glass and was nearly done in by the understanding in her eyes. No explanation was necessary. “I stayed to prove a point.”

She cocked her head. “A point?”

“That I could stick it out.” You won’t last two weeks in the army. You’ll be right back here like the nothing you are. He didn’t want to talk about those days anymore. “What matters is I lasted long enough to know I’m better at giving orders than taking them.”

“Not to mention figuring a way to make the world a better place,” she replied.

It was the first time anyone had suggested he made anything better. “You’re going to have to explain.”

“Your blood coagulator. If you hadn’t gone into the army, Ian Black Technologies would never exist.”

“Oh, that.” Guilt, his old friend, tapped him on the shoulder. Here’s where he started letting her down.

“What do you mean, oh, that? Your product has saved countless lives.”

No doubt, and there were days when he was damn proud of the product. The product, not himself. “You know I’m not the one who actually created the coagulator patch, right? All I did was pull together the people who did the work for me.” To make money. To prove another point.

“In my business, we call that person the idea man. Every successful business needs one.”

Until it didn’t need him anymore. Or until the idea man became drunk and volatile and his own worst enemy. Ian grabbed his water, quickly washing the sour taste out of his mouth.

Once more, Chloe mistook his action. Grasping her own glass, she saluted him. “And now you’re saving the world again,” she said.

“How’s that?”

“You said yourself that without coffee, man would kill himself. You’re saving lives with high quality beans.”

The gloom he felt creeping over him receded in a flash. “I like the way you think, Curlilocks. You’re good for my ego.”

“Good. When you become a big-time coffee magnate and need an agency, make sure you hire CMT and give me credit. That way I can score points with Simon.”

“Simon, as in Simon Cartwright?”

“You know him?”

Yeah, he knew him. Or rather of him. Apparently, they possessed similar tastes in women. “We had a few...mutual acquaintances.”

“Is that society-speak for dated some of the same women?”

He could feel the color creeping up his neck. “I wouldn’t call me the society type.” Certainly not like Cartwright, who, if Ian recalled, had been born to the roll. “But yes.”

“In other words you’re a serial dater.”

“Interesting term.” Sounded fatal. Considering the stack of apologies he’d written, the word was spot on.

He sat back in his chair. “I suppose I have dated my fair share. Hard to be monogamous when your soul’s focused elsewhere.”

“You mean drinking.”

Sure. Let alcohol take the blame. Even if the liquor was only a by-product of a bigger demon.

“Not that I’m judging,” Chloe continued. “By Delilah and Larissa’s standards, I’m every bit as bad. But then they’re overly romantic right now.”

“Aren’t all new brides?”

“I don’t know about all, but those two certainly have taken the lovesick pills.” She reached for her water. “I keep trying to tell them not everyone in the world has a soul mate. Statistically, it simply isn’t possible.”

“Because there isn’t an equal number of men versus women.”

“Exactly!” She saluted him with her glass again, her eyes glittering as though she’d proved some great scientific theory. So flushed and gorgeous, he had to squeeze his goblet to keep the blood from rushing below his belt. “You do realize there are more men than women in the world, right? Meaning men are the ones on the short end of the soul mate stick.”

Chloe’s smile faded. “Thanks for killing my theory.”

Great, he’d gone and dimmed the sparkle. Why the hell did he have to say anything? Because the idea of her spending her life alone wasn’t cause for celebration, that’s why. Any notion that involved a woman like her being alone wasn’t.

“You will, you know,” he said. “Find your soul mate, that is.” Wouldn’t be someone like Aiden, either.

“You assume I’m looking for one.”

“You aren’t?”

“Let’s just say I’m going to leave the veils and flowers to people like Delilah and Larissa.”

That so? “Even though statistics are back in your favor?”

“Statistics aren’t the only reason.” Her smile was as indecipherable as her answer. Didn’t matter. She could toss out all the nonchalant, enigmatic comments she wanted; he didn’t buy a single one.