Swept Away by the Tycoon. Barbara Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.”

      The sting of a wet cloth pressing against her cut kept her from responding. “Wasn’t fair to keep stringing you along the way I was, especially after you made such a nice gesture.”

      “Nice, but irrelevant.”

      “Being irrelevant doesn’t erase what you were trying to do.” He rinsed out the towel and began dabbing at her chin again. “Good intentions should be acknowledged.”

      His answer brought back the odd fluttering sensation from earlier. She wanted to press her hand to her stomach, but their position made doing so impossible. Somehow, while cleaning her cut, he’d moved so close his knee had wedged itself between her legs. Or had her legs parted for his knee? She felt the seam of his jeans pressing against her flesh, making annoyance increasingly difficult to maintain.

      “One,” she said suddenly, grabbing the first distraction that came to mind. “You said setting the record straight was only one of the reasons you ran after me. What was the other?”

      “I already told you, I wanted to apologize for being a jerk. I had no business biting your head off.”

      “Why did you?”

      The only sound was that of water being wrung from the towel. “Long story.”

      And guessing from the sour way he spoke, not a very pleasant one. “Want to share?”

      “Ever wish you could turn back time?”

      Having expected him to say no, his question caught her off guard. “Beyond tonight?”

      “Yeah,” СКАЧАТЬ