Swept Away by the Tycoon Read online

  “Cold?” Ian appeared near her shoulder.

  Chloe shook her head. “I like firelight, is all. You know, that’s how I started going to your coffee shop.”

  “We don’t have a fireplace.”

  “No, but your walls are fire-colored. All the red and orange—very warm and appealing.”

  “I had no idea. And here I thought you came in because of Aiden.”

  Aiden. Those days seemed so long ago. “He’s why I started going so often, but I first walked in because of the decor.”

  Spying the fireplace set, she picked up the poker and began moving the logs around so the flame would burn brighter. “Blame the visual artist in me—I’m attracted to bright colors. There’s something about them that’s very....welcoming. Like fireplaces.”

  “Remind me not repaint, then. I wouldn’t want you to feel cold.”

  He was joking, but the comment still made her tingle from the inside out. She gave the logs another poke. Sparks popped and floated upward. “You really want me to stay warm in your café, turn the heat up a couple notches.”

  “Let’s not get carried away. I said I wanted you warm, not the whole damn customer base. How about I loan you another sweatshirt instead?”

  “One’s enough, thank you. A second would require another mugging, and I think I’ve had my fill.”

  The fire burned brightly now. Content, Chloe gave the log one last poke, then set the implement aside, as Ian squatted down next to the hearth.

  “You’re right,” he said. “The fire does feel nice.”

  “Doesn’t it? Too bad we don’t have marshmallows we could toast.”

  “We could always raid the pantry. See what kind of secret stash they keep in there.”

  Chloe plopped down next to him. “Not much of a raid when you’ve got the hostess wrapped around your little finger.”

  “What makes you say something like that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know...how about ‘Do you want more coffee, Mr. Black? How do you like the crème brûlée, Mr. Black? I hope the meal met with your standards, Mr. Black.’” With each “Mr. Black” she imitated the woman’s lilting Scandinavian accent. The innkeeper had been very solicitous.

  “She was simply being a good hostess.”

  “Toward you, maybe. I had to wait twenty minutes for my iced coffee. In fact, the only reason I got served at all was because she wanted to bring you a refill.”

  “Now you’re just exaggerating.”

  “Am I, Mr. Black?”

  A small smile threatened the corners of Ian’s mouth. If Chloe didn’t know better, she’d say he was purposely trying to goad her. “I suppose it’s possible the woman recognized my name and was a little impressed.”

  “If you say so, although...” It was Chloe’s turn to do a little goading of her own. “...I don’t think it was your name she was staring at when you walked to the men’s room. Unless that’s what you’re calling your behind these days.”

  Ian laughed. The carefree sound made Chloe’s heart give a tiny bounce. “How would you know she was staring at my rear end? Unless you were watching, too?” He gave her shoulder a nudge.

  “I was simply following her line of sight.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Seriously. I was not staring at your rear end.” Actually, she was, but she certainly wouldn’t admit it to him.

  “Too bad,” he replied. “Because then I could feel less guilty about staring at yours.”

  Chloe did a double take. “You were not.” When did he have the opportunity? When she’d gotten up to use the ladies’ room? “No way.”

  “You’ll never know, will you?”

  He was mimicking her comment from upstairs, although in his case, the words sounded far sexier. Then again, she was pretty sure he could read the fine print on a contract and make it sound sexy. Her skin grew hot. She couldn’t help herself. Every compliment, implied or otherwise, took up residence in her chest, leaving the space between her heart and lungs so full it was hard to breathe.

  Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, and what had started as lighthearted grew still and expectant. The mirth disappeared from Ian’s gaze, replaced by a new light, hot like the center of a flame. Outside, branches slapped at the house as trees bent and swayed to nature’s will. Looking into Ian’s eyes, Chloe swore she was bending and swaying, too.

  “Dear God, but you’re beautiful,” she heard him whisper. His knuckles brushed across her cheek, the featherlight touch making her shiver. “Thank—”

  His kiss swallowed the rest.

  A whimper caught in Chloe’s throat. It was a slow, sensual kiss, full of passionate promise.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. He tasted like coffee, and the small part of her brain still working realized she would never think the same way about the beverage again.

  “Oh! I did not realize anyone was in here.”

  Josef’s voice broke the spell. Ian’s arms dropped away, leaving Chloe swaying for purchase. As she struggled to regain her composure, she swore her ragged breathing was the only sound in the room. Frankly, she wouldn’t be surprised if they could hear it on the upper floors —along with the sound of her racing heartbeat.

  “I was coming in to check on the fire before heading upstairs,” the innkeeper said. From the way he hovered in the door frame, he didn’t know whether to complete his task or not.

  Ian was the first to recover. Shooting Chloe an indecipherable look, he turned and smiled at the innkeeper. “Go on upstairs. We’ll take care of the fire.”

  “Well, if you are sure...” He, too, gave Chloe a look, which she returned with a weak smile. Hopefully the embarrassment creeping up her spine didn’t show too much. Being caught necking in a darkened room. Talk about awkward.

  Especially since the kiss felt like way more than mere necking. Making out had never left her aching with such need before. It was as though her soul had woken up from a long nap she hadn’t realize she’d been taking.

  “All you need to do is close the glass door. The fire will burn out on its own.”

  “Will do,” Ian told him.

  Unable to voice anything more than a whisper, Chloe gave a small wave goodbye. Her heart had yet to slow down. If anything, her pulse kicked up another notch as soon as Josef disappeared around the corner. She turned back to Ian, expecting to find a desire to match.

  His face was shuttered. “I...it’s been a long day.”

  No need to say more. She wasn’t good enough for a serial dater. Why make the moment worse with a whole lot of false apologies and excuses?

  At least now she knew how to take all his implied compliments. “You’re right,” she said. “I should be heading upstairs. See you in the morning?” The hopeful note that sneaked in at the end of her question made her want to kick herself.

  Ian nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  True. They were stuck together until this trip ended. And she’d thought Josef walking in on them was awkward.

  Straightening to her full height, she turned and walked away. It took effort, but she managed to reach upstairs without running. She’d be damned if she’d let Ian see how much his rejection hurt. Her blood pressure might shoot through the roof, but she would spend the rest of this road trip with a smile on her face. What she didn’t understand, she thought while brushing her teeth, was why he’d kissed her in the first place. Some kind of game? A challenge? Or was she remembering the moment incorrectly, and she’d been the one who’d made the first move?

  Whatever happened, it was her fault for letting her guard down. Something about being with Ian had her opening up about parts of her life she never shared with anyone else. For crying out loud, she’d told him about her father!

  As if she wasn’t disgusted by herself enough, she took a good look at her reflection upon donning the flannel shirt. She looked like a plaid circus tent with legs.

  And swollen, thoroughly kissed lips.

  Dammit, Ian. Stepping back into the bedroom, she found her att
ention going straight to the rumpled spot on the comforter where he’d lain earlier. He’d looked so comfortable stretched out there. So weirdly...right.

  It was an image too good to be true. For her, anyway.

  * * *

  For the first time in eighteen months, Ian rolled out of bed cotton mouthed, and lucky him, he hadn’t had to drink to get it. No, he’d earned the bleary-eyed state by spending most of the night thinking about the woman next door. The woman he had no business kissing, but had kissed anyway. Might as well have been alcohol, because once he started, he didn’t want to stop. Thank heaven for Josef. God knows what might have happened if he hadn’t shown up.

  Ian pictured the disappointment that had flashed across her face when he’d stepped away. If only she knew how hard it was.

  Once his body cooled down and common sense returned, he’d realized just how smart it was for him to stop. Maybe if she’d been some mercenary socialite...but she wasn’t. She was sweet and funny. His past was already littered with good women who’d offered their hearts, only to discover he was incapable of returning their feelings. He didn’t want Chloe to become one of them.

  Man, though, could she kiss.... He could still taste her, still feel how her long lean body had ground against him.

  He groaned aloud. Thinking about last night did not help. If he was back in New York, he could distract himself with the paper while watching the staff brew the first pots of the day. Lying here, he had too much access to his thoughts.

  It was the quiet that had woken him. All night he’d listened to the pelting of freezing rain against the glass. There was no rain now. No wind, either. The only sounds Ian could hear were those of birds chirping.

  A tug on the window shade revealed a mottled sky of blue and gray. The storm had left damage, though. The entire world was coated in ice. Branches, cars, even the sides of a work shed glistened as part of a frozen wonderland. Fortunately, he saw some of the branches already beginning to drip. This time of year, ice never stuck around long. The downed tree in the road was a far bigger problem. It couldn’t be moved until the power company cleared the lines. Who knew how long that would take? Chloe and he could be stranded here another night.

  He ignored the thrill that arose at the thought.

  Yanking on his jeans and sweater, he headed downstairs in search of coffee. If this place kept its promises, then a pot would already be brewing. Otherwise, Josef and Dagmar would have to deal with him making his own.

  Chloe’s room was silent as he walked by. Nice to know one of them could sleep following last night. As he passed, he ran a hand across the door’s painted surface, a poor substitute for Chloe’s burnished gold skin, but probably the closest he’d come to a caress again.

  “Good morning!” Josef stepped through the front door as Ian reached the landing. “You are up early. Did you sleep well?”

  Ian gave the man credit; he acted as though last night’s awkward encounter had never happened. “Very well, thank you,” he said, playing along.

  “Glad to hear it.” The man propped a hiking pole against the wall, then hung his jacket on a wooden hook. “I was spreading salt on the front steps. If you and your friend go for a walk this morning, you will need to be careful. Until the sun warms everything up, the ground is an ice skating rink.”

  “Any word from the power company?” Ian asked.

  The innkeeper joined him at the buffet and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I called this morning and got a recording that said they had crews on the job. Unfortunately, I also heard on the radio that there are power outages all over the state. Forty thousand people without power, I think they said. Even with your generous offer, I have a feeling repairs will be a while. I hope you were not in too much of a hurry to leave.”

  “Would it matter if I was?” Ian asked.

  “Not really.” Josef offered him the creamer, which Ian declined. “I noticed your car has New York plates. Were you coming or going?”

  “Going. My son is a student at the state university. We were heading out to see him.”

  “What a shame you were unable to make the trip. But I am sure your son will understand.”

  “Hope so.” The man had no idea how much. As Ian stared at the black contents of his mug, he wasn’t so sure.

  Behind him, the stairs creaked softly. “Good morning,” Josef greeted. “I wondered if you would be joining us at this hour or not.”

  Ian’s body tensed in awareness. Without turning around, he could tell who it was Josef spoke to. His insides sensed her approach.

  Sure enough, when he turned, Chloe stood on the bottom stair.

  He’d been wrong to tease her about the flannel shirt. The oversized garment looked sexy as hell on her—even with the jeans she’d tugged on to cover her legs. Soft and flowing, with a wide neckline that revealed the honey-colored skin around her neck. His body tightened as he remembered just how that skin tasted.

  She’d pulled her curls into a topknot, but a handful of corkscrew tendrils had managed to work their way loose. It was those she brushed at with her hand before offering a small wave. “Good morning,” she replied.

  She smiled as she joined them, but Ian could tell it was for Josef’s benefit only. The corners of her mouth were pulled too tightly, and while her eyes avoided looking directly at him, he still caught the embarrassment shining in their depths.

  “Hope there’s enough coffee left for me,” she said, turning to their host.

  “Why, of course. Allow me to pour you a cup.”

  “I thought you preferred to drink iced coffee,” Ian remarked. He hoped the innkeeper took the hint and went to get some ice so the two of them could have a moment alone. Chloe, however, must have known what he was doing.

  “I’ve been known to drink both. Besides, if you add enough milk, the coffee cools down fast and it’s almost like iced.”

  “Almost but not quite.”

  “Close enough.” She took the cup Josef offered and began adding what amounted to a second mug of cream. All to avoid standing alone with Ian. So much for friendship. He wanted to kick himself.

  “Ian and I were just talking about the two of you spending an extra night.”

  The knuckles on the hand gripping her mug handle tightened. “Is that so?”

  “All our guests will, unless we can get the tree moved by the end of the day. At the moment, it does not seem likely.”

  “Josef, can I get your help in the kitchen?” Dagmar’s voice called out.

  The innkeeper drained the rest of his coffee. “The boss beckons. I had best see what she wants.”

  “Will you be coming back?” Chloe sounded so nervous, Ian’s stomach dropped.

  “Afraid not. When Dagmar signals she needs help, it is usually the end of my spare time for the day. I will let you know when breakfast is ready to be served. Hope you two like eggs because we have a lot of them to cook up.”

  “Farm fresh eggs,” Ian remarked. “Don’t see those every day.”

  “No, I suppose you don’t.”

  Chloe’s smile had vanished along with Josef. “Another day, huh?” she said, staring at her mug. “You must be disappointed.”

  “A little.” At the moment, he was more disappointed that she continued to avoid his gaze. Unable to stand her evasion any longer, he caught her chin with his forefinger, forcing her to look in his direction. The apology in her eyes tore his guts out. “We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BUT NOT IN the main salon. There were too many opportunities for interruption. Before Chloe could say a word, Ian grabbed her hand and led her down the hall to the first empty room and shut the door.

  She blinked in disbelief at the unlit fireplace. Startled as she was by Ian’s abrupt maneuver, it took her a minute or two to realize they’d returned to the library. “I didn’t think you’d feel comfortable going upstairs,” he explained. “And this way we can speak in private.”

  “Do we have to?” If he wanted to talk about last n
ight, Chloe would rather not talk at all. She’d spent enough time rehashing the evening while not sleeping.

  “I think we do.”

  That’s what she was afraid he’d say. She took a seat on the edge of the leather sofa, while Ian stayed by the door, arms folded, leaving miles of distance between them. As she waited for the inevitable “it’s not me, it’s you” litany, she struggled to keep from tugging at her neckline.

  Wearing the flannel had been a mistake. That they both knew she’d slept in the shirt left her feeling more exposed than the wide-open collar. Exposed, foolish and a thousand other adjectives. Didn’t matter that Ian had yet to look her in the eye, choosing instead to focus on a spot on the floor; she still felt naked.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said.

  “No, you don’t.” Please don’t, she added silently. Apologizing meant he regretted kissing her, and she didn’t want to hear the rejection out loud. No matter how confused her thoughts, she needed to believe he’d wanted her, even if only for a moment. “You kissed me and I kissed you back. End of story.”

  Well, the end except for the fact that her skin still burned where his lips had touched her, and that staring at him this morning, she ached for him to kiss her again.

  He lifted his eyes. Chloe immediately wished he’d go back to staring at the floor. “I had no right—”

  She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t sit and listen to his excuses. “Look, we’re both adults.” This time, she held up her hand. “Last night was...We got caught up in the atmosphere after a stressful day. It happens. There’s no need to make a federal case out of it.” Considering how her insides were trembling while she spoke, she applauded herself for sounding so mature.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

  “They’ll only be awkward if you keep apologizing for something you don’t need to apologize for.” Or that she wanted to hear him apologize for. Hearing the note of relief in his voice was hard enough.

  Besides, she realized there was some truth to her statement. Between their conversations and the storm, yesterday had been an emotionally draining day. They probably did overreact to the romantic atmosphere. Things between them would be much different now that the sun was out.