Swept Away by the Tycoon

“To apologize,” he told her. “I had no business being so rude to you earlier. You bought the coffee to be nice. I was wrong to bite your head off.”

Had all that taken place tonight? The exchange seemed like eons ago. “Be pretty rude of me not to accept now, wouldn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t be the first person.”

It was such a strange response, Chloe couldn’t help frowning again. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t get an answer. They’d rounded the corner to the coffee shop. A Closed sign hung in the window. “Shoot,” Chloe muttered. “I’d hoped we’d get here before they locked up for the night.”

“No worries.”

There was a female barista wiping down the counter. Ian rapped on the window to draw her attention. Her chin must have looked pretty bad because the woman immediately stopped what she was doing and unlocked the door.

“Oh my God, what happened?”

Once again, Ian took charge, steering Chloe straight to the table in the corner. “We’re going to need the first aid kit, Jesse.”

Now, Chloe knew she had to be a mess, because the woman obeyed without a word. On the other hand, Ian’s demeanor didn’t exactly invite discussion.

While the barista disappeared into the back room, Ian made his way to the sink behind the coffee bar. Reaching into an upper cabinet, he retrieved a fresh towel. Then, grabbing a stainless steel bowl that was drying on the counter, he filled it with water.

“You look pale,” he said when he returned. No surprise there. The shaking in her legs had spread to the rest of her body. Took all she had not to fall off the chair.

“Hold on.” He crossed the room again, this time to help himself to a bottle of water from the display case. “Here. Drink some of this.”

“Thank you.” Drinking and keeping the sweatshirt pressed to her chin proved difficult, especially with her free hand trembling. Some of the water dribbled past her lips and onto the shirt.

“You’re really making a mess tonight, aren’t you Curli?”

Chloe was about to comment when she caught the twinkle in his eye. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Good thing you didn’t give me coffee. I might have stained your sweatshirt.”

“Heaven forbid. Coffee’s such a bitch to get out.”

As opposed to blood. “I hope this wasn’t your favorite shirt.”

“A worthwhile sacrifice,” he said again, then ran his index finger down the bridge of her nose before giving the tip a playful tap.

Fighting to keep to the color from flooding her cheeks, Chloe looked away. Maybe it was the change in temperature after being outside, but her chill had begun to fade, replaced by an odd fluttering deep in her muscles. Like shivers, only more intense and without the nervous edge.

“Here’s the first aid kit. I can’t vouch for the contents. Been awhile since we’ve had to use anything in it.” Jesse’s return removed some of the electrical charge from the moment. “I grabbed some plastic bags, too. In case you want to make an ice pack.”

“Good idea. Could you make me a couple? You might want them for your knees,” he added to Chloe.

As soon as he mentioned them, she lifted her skirt for a peek. Sure enough, both knees had quarter-size scrapes right below the kneecap. Dark red marred the outer skin, the beginnings of what would be large purple bruises. The cuts didn’t hurt now, but they would soon. She looked around for a way to prop her legs so she could balance the ice bags. Finding none, she left her feet dangling. She’d ice the bruises later.

Meanwhile Ian was sorting through the first aid kit. “I see what you mean about the contents,” he said tossing a half a roll of gauze on the table. “Better make an extra ice pack for her chin, too.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Boss? The sweatshirt pressed against her chin was the only thing keeping Chloe’s jaw from dropping. “You work here?” she asked Ian.

“Something like that.”

“Define something.” She’d caught the look Ian and the barista exchanged. Either he worked there or he didn’t. Why the evasive answer?

Ian didn’t reply. “We’re going to be here awhile, Jess,” he told the other woman. “Will you be all right getting home?”

“I’m meeting my boyfriend up the street for drinks.”

“Be careful. We don’t need a second incident.”

Chloe waited until Jesse said goodnight before resuming her questioning “You could have told me you were an employee here.” Might have saved her an afternoon of speculating if she’d known there was a perfectly logical reason for him to be hanging around. Not to mention saving her from being mugged.

“Could have, if I was an employee.”

“But she called you boss.”

“Uh-huh.”

The answer hit her like a ton of bricks. Good Lord, but she could be dense, “You’re the new owner.”

“Guilty as charged. Ow! What was that for?”

She’d kicked him in the shin. If her knees didn’t hurt, she’d kick him someplace else. “For making me think you were down on your luck,” she snapped.

“I didn’t make you think anything. You drew your conclusions all on your own.”

“You still could have said something. Do you have any idea how much—” Time I spent thinking about you? Thankfully, she caught herself before the rest of the sentence left her mouth. The hole she’d dug herself was deep enough, thank you. “Why didn’t you correct me?”

“Let’s say I found the misconception entertaining.”

“Glad I could amuse you.”

“Trust me, Curli, you did.” His eyes met hers, their sparkle so bright and smug Chloe would have glared in return had her stomach not chosen that moment to do a somersault. She felt like an idiot. Her and her big grand gesture. “No wonder you told me to give the coffee to the man across the street.”

“Figured he could use the warmth more than me.” Moving closer, Ian lifted the sweatshirt from her chin. The fabric tugged the skin where the cloth had dried in place, causing her to wince. “Sorry,” he said, tossing the garment aside.

“For the chin or for misleading me?”

“Both. Now, tip your head back so I can clean you up.”

Although annoyed, Chloe did what she was told. A second later, Ian’s fingertips brushed across her throat. She jumped, her frazzled nerves making the touch feel far more intimate than it was.

Ian sensed her discomfort. “Shhh.” His thumbs stroked her pulse points. Again, intimate, but soothing. “I need to see how deep the cut goes.”

As he spoke, he leaned in tight. Once again, Chloe found herself breathing in coffee and wood, strong, manly scents that calmed her nerves. His hands were softer than she expected. Given his gruff exterior, she would have guessed them to bear signs of exposure and hard labor. These fingers, however, had the surface of silk, with a touch to match. Hard to believe they belonged to the same strong hands she’d seen gripping a coffee mug this morning. Until he fanned his thumbs along the base of her throat, that is. Then she felt every ounce of their strength thrumming below. Controlled but ever present.

“You know,” he said, his breath ghosting warm across her skin, “that was one of the reasons I ran after you. I wanted to set the record straight.”