Taking Home The Tycoon. Catherine Mann

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      Billionaire. But he didn’t think that would do much to advance his cause of getting closer to her.

      Was that what he was doing?

      Hell, yes, he wanted to taste her. Right now he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted...anything.

      He took a swig of his beer, the hoppy flavor settling on his palate.

      In this moment, underneath the stars and tree limbs, Natalie seemed so easygoing, so much less guarded than she had that afternoon. “Glad you found your brew.”

      “It was tough at first, tucked behind the juice boxes.”

      She laughed, choked a little on a sip of wine, then pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth. “Sorry about that. I should have warned you.”

      “Not a problem. You’re a mom. I figure juice boxes come with the territory.” Natalie just nodded in response, staring out toward the road.

      A night orchestra filled the space between them. Low chirps of active crickets, the occasional rustle of a slight autumn wind through the branches. In the distance, he could hear car tires rolling over the mixture of dirt and pavement. No wonder she liked this time of night. “Your kids are cute. Your daughter sure is a little chatterbox.”

      “I think sometimes she is filling in the blanks for her brother.” She stared into her glass, lightly swirling the wine along the sides of the crystal. “My son’s been diagnosed on the spectrum for autism.”

      “I’m sorry.” Her sudden desire to share this private moment struck a chord with Max. As if by instinct, his hand went to hers and he squeezed it reassuringly, noting the way she squeezed back. Max brought his hand back to his side, aware of the absence of warmth.

      “I’m just glad we got the diagnosis. Early intervention is key to giving him the most life has to offer. Actually, that’s true for any child. Proactive parenting.”

      “And you’re doing it alone.”

      “I am, which doesn’t leave me any free time. You need to understand that.”

      “You’re a superb mother. You don’t need to ever apologize for that.” Another swig of beer. As he swallowed, he tried to push his own childhood back to the dark morass of his mind. When he was six, his mother had abandoned him. No explanation. Just gone. He became yet another child of the foster care system, cycling through homes, but never finding a permanent place. Never finding a family of his own. Unadoptable. All these years later, the label and reality still stung.

      “We’re training Miss Molly to help Colby in a number of ways.” She combed her fingers through her hair as she turned to face him.

      He shifted to face her, closer, as if the rest of the world was outside their pocket of space here. “Like a service dog?”

      “Eventually. Right now she would qualify as an ESA—emotional support animal. However, there’s no public access with that, but Colby’s doctors can quantify how she helps ease his panic attacks. With training, we hope to hone that to where she can assist him in school, the store, and make so many more places accessible to him. My son is also quite the escape artist, so it helps having Miss Molly stick close to him. She barks when we call, even if he won’t answer.”

      “I don’t mean to sound dense, but why not just get a dog that’s already trained?” Parenting, along with the world of disability and service animals, felt like a foreign language to him, but he was eager to learn more.

      “The waiting list for most agencies is one to two years, if they’ll even partner a dog with a child as young as Colby. Few groups will. We didn’t have a lot of options left to us in this arena.” He took in the slump in her spine, her downcast eyes and the pain pulsing in her tight-lipped smile.

      He scooted closer to her, raised her chin. Shining emerald eyes met his, and a deep exhale passed from her lips to his receding hand. “But you investigated. You found answers.”

      Natalie the fighter. Natalie the woman who didn’t quit. He admired that.

      “Of course. We worked with the trainer and with Megan at the local shelter. They were fantastic in identifying a dog with potential for the job.”

      “That’s impressive.”

      She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “There’s always the chance Miss Molly won’t be able to complete the training to the level we hope. That’s a risk with any dog in training. But we’re already getting some help with Colby now in the way she offers comfort and sticks close to him. And we’re committed to keeping her regardless of how far she progresses in her ability to learn.”

      “Even if you have to start training with another dog?”

      “Yes, even if. For now, though, we’re taking things a day at a time, doing the best we can.” A stronger, more resolute smile formed on her face, as if she was replaying some scene in her mind.

      “You’re doing a damn fine job now,” he affirmed before taking another sip of his beer, listening to the continued sound of crickets.

      “Miss Molly already passed her Canine Good Citizen test. We’re not taking this lightly. It’s against the law to pass off a fake service dog.”

      “I didn’t say you were.” Max stretched his arms, expanding his chest, and let out a low sigh.

      “I’m sorry to be defensive. People understand Seeing Eye dogs and dogs that assist with mobility. But when the animal is helping with developmental or emotional disabilities, people can be incredibly...rude and unenlightened.” Just as before, Natalie’s gaze turned downward, pain evident in every part of her.

      “Then enlighten me.” He tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

      She angled her head away. “I think we need to be careful here.”

      “What do you mean?” he asked, wanting her to spell it out. What they were feeling.

      “I didn’t invite you here as anything but a guest.”

      “Understood.”

      “An attraction is just that. An attraction. It doesn’t have to be acted on.”

      “Fair enough.” He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his bottle, retreating for now. But only to regroup. “I appreciate your generosity with the room. Your place here offers a homey feel I don’t find often in my travels. Now back to talking about your dog. I want to know more about the training.”

      Even in the moonlight, he noticed a blush rise on her neck. She sipped her wine, before talking into the glass. “You’re just being polite.”

      “I’m curious. Explain it so my techie mind understands.”

      “Okay, have you heard about studies on dogs that can sniff out cancer?”

      “I have.” He nodded, gesturing with his beer. “I assume it’s like drug-sniffing dogs.”

      “Nice analogy. And there are dogs that alert to seizures and diabetes glucose drops.”

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