Swept Away by the Tycoon(22)

They were in the library. Last night’s kiss flashed before her, stirring a heat she was afraid to let take hold.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

She blinked, adjusting to the darkness. Someone had moved the furniture. Pushed the sofa and chairs toward the wall. In their place lay a large tablecloth, the bright red square spread in front of the fireplace like a picnic blanket. At the far corner, she saw a silver tray bearing a tea set and several covered serving bowls.

She arched a brow. “A picnic?” This was a surprise. She didn’t see Ian as the picnic type, let alone a picnic by firelight.

“Not any old picnic,” Ian replied, taking her hand. He motioned for her to sit, then reached for the tray. “I’ll have you know, by the way, I worked extremely hard on this.” Based on his grin, Chloe couldn’t tell if he was serious or making a joke.

He lifted the first cover. Chloe slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh my God, you raided Dagmar’s pantry!”

“More like charmed her into setting this whole thing up,” he replied. “Told you I worked hard.”

She bet. More likely Dagmar had caved at the first smile.

One by one Ian uncovered the dishes, revealing marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate squares. “You said you never cooked s’mores over an open fire before, so I figured...”

He’d give her the opportunity. Chloe stared at the tray in disbelief. It’d been a casual comment, babble really, nothing more, and yet he’d listened. The men she knew didn’t care about any of her life’s details. They certainly wouldn’t go to this much trouble to help her live out a childhood fantasy.

Attraction shifted into an emotion she couldn’t name. The strange feeling filled her chest, squeezing her lungs. Her vision blurred.

“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.