Swept Away by the Tycoon(8)

When Chloe finished, her friend shook her head. “Unbelievable. This guy sits around a coffee shop all day? Why? I know running a small business takes a lot of time, but moving in seems extreme.”

“No clue. Maybe he likes being idly rich.” Which was doubtful. Ian didn’t strike her as a man who liked being idly anything. He was more the man of action type. Like last night. She got a hot thrill just thinking about how he’d taken down the thug.

“Whatever the reason,” Larissa said, “you’re lucky he was there.”

“Yeah, I was.”

They pushed their way through the revolving door into the office building lobby. After three blocks of cold, the rush of warmth was almost tropical. Not as cozy feeling as at the café, but definitely welcome.

“I hate this weather,” Larissa said, unwinding her miles of scarf. “I thought it was supposed to be spring.”

“Early spring,” Chloe reminded her. “You know as well as I do, that doesn’t necessarily mean warm.”

“No kidding. Did you hear they are predicting rain this weekend? If I don’t see some sunshine soon, I’ll go crazy.”

“Cheer up. Another few weeks and you’ll be in Mexico sipping champagne.”

“The trip can’t come soon enough. I only hope Del gets good weather for her wedding.”

“Somehow, I don’t think Del and Simon care, so long as they get married.”

“True. Those two are so in love it’s sickening.”

Chloe had to agree. Both Delilah and their boss had worked late last night themselves. She wondered if they’d noticed she didn’t return from her coffee run, or if they were too caught up with each other. Simon’s door had been shut tight. She pressed a fist to her midsection. Inexplicably, thoughts of Simon and Delilah dissolved into an image of her and Ian, causing the fluttering sensation to return.

“You’re one to talk. You’ve got Tom,” she said, focusing her attention back where it belonged. Outward.

“I guess.” Busy pressing the elevator button, Larissa sounded distracted. “Hey, is this Ian guy cute?”

Cute was the last word she’d use to describe Ian Black. “He’s attractive. Why?”

She didn’t have to answer; Chloe knew the reason as soon as she asked the question, and it was a bad one. “I’m not interested in getting involved right now.”

“He’s a step up from the men you usually date. A lot better than Aiden, that’s for sure.”

Was he? At least with Aiden, what you saw was what you got. Ian, on the other hand.... She barely knew the man and she already could tell he ran deeper and stiller than most waters. There was a reason she preferred shallow. Men with depth left bigger scars when the relationship ended. The nicks and cuts caused by guys like Aiden hurt bad enough. Why invite bigger pain?

“You know, there’s no law that says people have to be in a relationship,” Chloe said as soon as the doors closed. Thankfully, no one joined them, meaning they could finish this conversation in private.

“No one ever said there was.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me to have one?”

“I’m not pushing anything. All I did was ask if this Ian person was good-looking. You’re the one who went off.”

Chloe looked at her shoes. Her friend was right. She had flown off the handle prematurely. “Sorry. Last night might have made me a bit oversensitive.”

“Can’t blame you there. If I’d been mugged, I’d be touchy, too. Although...” Larissa hesitated.

Glancing over, Chloe noticed her friend had literally bit her lip to keep from saying more. “Although what?” Might as well finish the whole discussion. When it came to certain subjects, Larissa could be relentless. Chloe’s love life was frequently one of those subjects. “Spit it out.”

“Fine,” she said. “You’re always so adamant about not wanting a serious relationship.”

“I happen to like being single.”

“So you say.” Arms folded, lips drawn in a tight line, her friend was a five-foot-two-inch block of doubt. “I can’t help wondering, who you’re trying so hard to convince with your argument. Me? Or yourself?”



Under normal circumstances, Saturday morning meant sleeping in and drinking coffee in her pajamas. This Saturday, however, the bridal salon called to say her dress for Delilah’s wedding was ready, so instead of being happily curled up under her comforter, Chloe found herself making the trek uptown. She wanted to run her errands before the rain started.

And she wanted to avoid Larissa. Chloe was still annoyed with her for that comment on the elevator. Who was she trying to convince, indeed. What a stupid question. Why would she need to convince herself of something she’d known for years? La-roo’s problem was that she had an overdeveloped sense of romanticism. Her whole world consisted of brides, weddings and babies. Chloe was far more practical. She’d much rather preserve her self-esteem than chase some useless fantasy.

Thankfully, Larissa didn’t notice how she’d dodged the original question: whether Ian was attractive. Big fat yes there. Even a dead woman would think so. For crying out loud, his voice alone qualified as sex on a stick. Add in the rugged features and obvious rock-solid torso, and who wouldn’t be...intrigued?

Intrigued, though, didn’t mean interested. If she happened to find herself walking three blocks out of her way to visit Café Mondu, it was only because she had a craving for a well-crafted iced peppermint mocha latte.

Just as it was surprise, not disappointment tightening her stomach when she discovered a pair of middle-aged women occupying the front corner table.

“Good morning,” the barista at the counter said in greeting. It was Jesse, the woman from the other night. “Looks like Ian did a good job.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your chin. The cut’s healing nicely.”

“Thanks.” Chloe ran her fingertip along the scab. She still had a bump from smacking the sidewalk, but the redness had started to fade. “Lucky for me your boss has a knack for first aid.”

“Must have been the army training,” Jesse said.

“You knew about that?”

“I overheard him talking to a couple servicemen one day, why?”

“No reason.” For a second Chloe worried that she was the only person in New York who didn’t recognize the man. She’d learned online that his military service was an important part of the Ian Black corporate story. It was his experience as a medic that inspired him to invent the Black blood clotting patch that launched the company’s success. “I only recently found out, is all. He’s not here today, is he?” she added. Only because it would be rude not to say hello.

Jesse didn’t have to answer, for at that moment Ian’s stage whisper reached her ear. “For crying out loud, Jack, you make it sound like I’m popping in on the kid out of the blue. We’ve been in contact.”

He walked through the storage room door, cell phone tucked under one ear, a coffee cup clutched in the other. Chloe nearly dropped her dress bag. Today was the first time she’d seen Ian without his vagabond clothes, and the result was breathtaking. He’d shed the sweatshirt and ratty jacket in favor of khakis and a sweater the same light blue as his eyes, making him look every inch the successful entrepreneur he was purported to be. He’d pushed the sleeves of his sweater to the elbows. Chloe tried hard not to stare at his exposed forearms. She’d never been one to care about arms and hands before, but Ian’s were extraordinary. So hard and lean you could see the muscles playing with every move. A jagged scar ran down his right arm. It began beneath the cuff and traveled to his wrist. As Chloe followed the line with her eyes, she recalled how capable his hands were. Strong yet tender. The consummate male touch.

A flush washed over her. Why on earth did this man waste himself on baggy sweatshirts?

“Because some things can’t be said long distance, and the longer I wait...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unhappy. “My gut says different.”

“Three eighty-five,” Jesse said. Chloe handed her a five dollar bill and waved off the change. She was far more interested in the conversation behind the counter.

“Fine. Your opposition is duly noted.” Heaving a sigh loud enough to be heard across Manhattan, Ian slammed the phone onto the counter.

Chloe spoke without thinking. “Problem?”

He’d been staring at his cell and didn’t hear her come around to his side of the counter. Her question caused him to look up suddenly, revealing a look of such weariness, it tore her insides in two. “Difference of opinion,” he replied. He looked back down at the phone and sighed. “Damn. Now I’m going to have to call back and apologize at some point for hanging up.”

“Sounded like this Jack person ticked you off pretty good.”

“Nah, more like me taking my frustrations out on him. A habit I thought I had a handle on.”

“Sorry,” she replied.

Ian frowned. “What are you sorry about?”

To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure. The lack of sparkle in his eye made her want to say something. “You being frustrated.”