Taming the Tycoon (15 page)

He lay back instead, pretty sure she would not be receptive to his advances. The deep purple petals in his peripheral vision seemed to mock him. He drummed his fingers on the blanket, conscious of the seconds, the minutes ticking by.

Remembering the report waiting on his desk about a new property he was looking at acquiring. Going over the briefing notes in his head that Margaret had handed him this morning for his two p.m. meeting.

“Stop thinking.”

He rolled his head to the side at the grouchy command. “I’m not good at being idle.”

“Look at that,” she said and his gaze followed her finger as she pointed at a plane flying overhead. “Don’t you ever wonder where they’re going?”

Nathaniel frowned. “No.”

Addie’s arm dropped to the ground as she muttered, “Of course not.”

“It’s just a plane, Addie,” he said to her closed-eyed demeanor. He didn’t have time in his life to daydream about flight destinations. “A machine that gets you from A to B.”

She opened her eyes and shook her head at him. “It transports people’s dreams. People coming and going to holidays or weddings or reunions, or moving to other countries, or just coming home again. I love how palpable the anticipation is on planes.”

Nathaniel was usually head down in work on a plane, so he couldn’t say he’d ever noticed, but she was in a strange mood and he wasn’t going to poke a stick at her in this garden of all places, because he had a feeling it was the surroundings that were making her moody.

He looked back to the sky. After a moment or two, he said tentatively, “So…I’ve gone through your books.”

He sensed rather than saw her eyes open. “Oh?”

“I have some suggestions, if you want to hear them.”

There was movement beside him and Addie sat up, hugging her knees, her back to him. “Or I can just give you the report I prepared when we get back to the office.”

Addie’s head turned and she blinked down at him. “You prepared a report?”

“I thought it would be easier for you to have a hard copy for easy reference.”

Addie looked away and said, “Just give me the dot points.”

Nathaniel sat, too, his arm brushing hers. “I think there are some very easy places you could make some savings. You could have a bigger markup on your products. The Docks has a reputation for expensive quality goods, so you have a lot of leeway. You could run the shop yourself, negating the expense of a staff member with the added advantage of being more in touch with what’s happening there. And you could stay open later and consider opening on Sundays as well. You also buy your crystals from UK suppliers who charge like wounded bulls. There are cheaper options you could explore.”

She didn’t say anything for a while and she was so still he started to wonder if she was stroking out at his very sensible suggestions.

“Addie?” he prompted.

She turned her head. “You think I should sack Tiffany?”

“It’s one of the options you have.”

“She helps supports her family because Burt, her dad, is out of work due to a back injury.”

“There are other jobs,” he said gently.

“She’s dyslexic.”

Addie’s big gray eyes bored into his. She had a way of making him feel lower than a snake’s belly, and he hated feeling like a criminal just because he’d pointed out where she could be more efficient with her business.

He especially hated that she looked so wretched he wanted to pull her into his arms and take it all back. But he was making sound business sense—any manager would tell her the same—and he wouldn’t apologize for that.

Even if she was looking at him like he’d ripped every rose bush in this garden out by the roots.

He scanned his surroundings. He couldn’t hope to be given a fair hearing with them sitting in the middle of their metaphorical battleground. “I think I should go,” he said, standing.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’re really going to knock this all down. Pave paradise.”

Her bleak words cut deeper than any screeched insult from a megaphone. “I know that you were hoping to change my mind, but I need the garden, Addie.”

Addie hugged her knees. “You don’t need it. You want it. I
need
it.”

“Addie—”

“Don’t come tonight.” She cut him off without even bothering to looking at him.

Nathaniel steeled himself against the quiet rejection. The thought of not sharing her bed for the first night in weeks hit him like a sledgehammer, but he wasn’t going to grovel. And he wasn’t going to ditch a deal that would cost him precious time and money and derail a goal sixteen years in the making. This thing, whatever this thing was, had obviously just run its course.

And that
was
good.

It had taken up way too much of his time. He could get back to concentrating on the things that were important in his life.

Sex he could get anywhere.
Uncomplicated
sex, to boot. With women who didn’t get in his head.

He didn’t need Addie in his head.

And he didn’t need her anywhere near his heart, either.

Chapter Eleven

Addie kept herself busy over the next couple of days with futile letter box drops for the Save St. Aggie’s garden campaign. She went out Friday and Saturday evenings to even more futile strategy meetings that went long into the night. She’d spent today at Soul Food going through the inventory and doing all those other things she’d been neglecting so badly this last month.

But now she was sitting on the
Ida May
, every square inch reminding her of Nathaniel and how he’d dominated her little home, and even though she was watching the television, she couldn’t stop the analysis going on in her head.

Telling Nate good-bye had been gut-wrenching. But sitting there in the garden, in
her
garden, as he’d talked to her as if she was some client who’d paid him for a business analysis rather than the woman whose mattress practically had scorch marks from their marathon sessions, it had become so clear.

She hadn’t changed his mind.

And no amount of time, of broaching the subject, of
showing
him how much it meant to her, how much life and
living
meant to her or how many letter box drops and strategy meetings she attended, was going to make an iota of difference.

All she’d done was buy some time.

The two-hundred-year-old walled rose garden was doomed. And Nate was going to be its executioner.

But it was worse than that. To add insult to injury, she’d gone and fallen in love with him.

She’d been telling herself every day that she was here for purely altruistic reasons—for the garden’s sake, for Nathaniel’s sake. Giving him experiences and showing him things in the hopes that he’d come to understand there was more to life than work.

Paying her debt to the universe.

But the truth was, she was in it for herself. Because she’d fallen in love with him.

Day by day, he’d wormed under her skin, and each night as he rocked her world, she’d fallen for him a bit more. Every time he’d smiled or laughed or seemed to be enjoying her little outings, she’d been ridiculously thrilled. Every time he’d looked into her eyes when he was deep inside her, she’d lost her breath.

Every time he’d left in the morning, he’d taken her heart with him.

And now, without even having a clue because, despite their time together he really just didn’t know her at all, he’d stomped all over it.

How could she have been so wrong about him? She’d been an idiot to think they were some kind of kindred spirits because she’d recognized a bit of herself in him. Even back in her rat-race days, she’d never been this out of touch with her humanity.

She looked around at her cozy home, the fire going, the walls a lovely warm honey color, vibrant throws, colorful rugs, lacy curtains, the remnants of Nathaniel’s last flower delivery.

His place was like a bloody mausoleum—all black and white. She’d only been there a few times and had been pleased when his self-imposed grueling schedule meant that he came to her. There’d been something so sexy about him oozing testosterone all over her girly environment. Seeing his big, naked body covered in her floral sheets or wrapped in her pink bath towels.

Addie blinked hard. She would not cry. She’d seen more than her fair share of tragic things in her twenty-seven years—people dying of cancer, grieving families, bald kids with old, old eyes.

Things
worth
crying over.

She would not cry over a man. She had her health, a roof over her head, food in her belly, and people who loved her.

She was lucky.

Luckier than Nathaniel by far, because he didn’t realize that was all you really needed in life.

She blew her runny nose and turned the television up really loud.

Nathaniel stood where the
Ida May
was moored, looking down at the longboat, the night lights of the docks twinkling in the water. The last two nights had been the longest of his life. He hadn’t slept. He’d barely eaten. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on work.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and along his jaw. Hell, he hadn’t even shaved.

And he had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten here. Or why he’d come. It certainly hadn’t been a conscious decision, but—here he was.

His gaze followed the black wisps coming out of the stack on the roof and he breathed the wood smoke deep into his lungs.

It was crazy that he was here. Addie wasn’t like anyone he knew. She had no concrete goals, she didn’t care about money or clothes or jewelry or even expensive flowers. She
meditated,
for crying out loud, and believed in the power of
crystals.
And if all that wasn’t bad enough, she had a pathological attachment to a
garden
.

A garden that belonged to him.

A garden that had to go to achieve
his
goals. Goals that he’d been working hard to achieve since he was nineteen and were so very close.

Nathaniel had goals—that didn’t make him a bad person.

He turned to leave, then stopped, fisting his hands as his body demanded that he go to her.

Goddamn it!

There was nothing about her that should appeal at all. Yet he wanted to belt down her door, stride inside, and make her come all night.

But it was more than that.

That was lust. Lust he understood. Lust was something he could control. Something he could take or leave. This didn’t feel like that. This was different.

Nathaniel stepped onto the boat, his hand delving in his pocket for the key she’d given him. But he knew after the way they’d left it, he couldn’t use it. So he knocked.

The door was open in ten seconds and she was standing before him in track pants and a T-shirt with no bra and some fluffy boot things and his heart was thudding so frenetically he thought for a crazy second he was having a heart attack.

“Nate,” she whispered, and then she was throwing herself into his arms, slamming her mouth against his and he was lifting her up and she was wrapping her legs around his waist and he was striding inside, kicking the door shut while her hands were undoing his belt buckle and her tongue was stroking inside his mouth and he could feel it deep inside his gut as if she was licking him there.

He strode blindly with her through to her bedroom, throwing her on the bed, her T-shirt hiked up, her hair spread out all around her like a mermaid.

“Get undressed,” he panted, looking down at her as he toed his shoes off, pulled his shirt over his head, unzipped his fly.

He stopped for a moment as she wriggled out of her shirt. The light was out but enough of the lounge light behind him filtered in to see her breasts laid bare to his eyes. He salivated at the thought of tasting them. Watching her watch him through half-closed lids was sexy as hell and he pushed his trousers and underpants off his hips, his erection springing free.

Addie reared up then and when her mouth closed over him he bucked and groaned, his eyes closing as his hands pushed into her hair. But he was balanced on a knife edge, too close to last long under the delicious suck of her mouth and the swipe of her tongue, and he pulled away, pushing her back on the bed again.

“Why are your pants still on?” he demanded huskily before he reached for the waist band and peeled them back, her underwear included, in one fell swoop, laying all of her bare to him.

And then she was rolling on her stomach, commando crawling closer to the other edge, reaching out to the bedside table delving in the drawer where he knew she kept the condoms, but the shift and wriggle of her buttocks was too enticing, just too, too much and he lowered himself onto her, kissing her back, her shoulders, her neck as his bent arms supported him, his erection rubbing along the cleft of her buttocks.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he groaned in her ear.

Her answering moan was bone-deep satisfying, as was her slight lift as she passed the condom back, allowing him to slide a hand onto her breast. She turned her head toward his lips and he claimed her mouth. She moaned again as he squeezed and cupped her, his thumb rubbing over an engorged nipple.

“Hurry,” she gasped.

In ten seconds, he’d torn the foil packet with his teeth and, one-handed, sheathed himself and then she was pushing back up into him, raising herself up on her hands and knees telling him to
Hurry, hurry, hurry.

The sight of her like this, her breasts swinging, her hair falling forward, was almost his undoing and he grabbed her hips roughly, taking only a moment to center himself before he was pushing into her high and hard.

He groaned as he slid in deep and she cried out as he nudged the neck of her womb. “Are you okay?” he gasped as her heat and tightness enveloped him in a wave of pleasure.

“Yes,” she panted. “More…more.”

Nathaniel complied, leaning over her, reaching for her breasts as he thrust in and out with deliberate slowness, each gentle movement grazing the nipples against his palms.

He shut his eyes and picked up the pace. “Yes, yes,” she gasped and he moved a hand down her belly and slid his fingers into the heat at her center. She moaned loudly as he found the right spot.

“Addie,” he groaned as she pushed back to meet his thrusts, stirring him to go harder, to go faster, his fingers moving in time.

And then she was throwing her head back, calling his name, trembling against him as she cried out and his orgasm rushed out to join hers and space and time and light splintered around him until there was just her and him and the rock and pound of their release.

…

Addie awoke to daylight. Her throat was scratchy, her bladder was full, and a heavy male arm was anchored around her waist. She didn’t remember much after they’d both collapsed on the bed together post-wild animal sex. Just crawling under the covers with him, turning in his arms, and drifting off to sleep.

She supposed they should have talked, but she was exhausted in a way that only a truly good orgasm could make you, and in the afterglow she didn’t trust herself not to blurt out the truth.

That she loved him.

So she’d shut her eyes and let the thump of his heart beneath her ear rock her into the oblivion of sleep where she could love him in her dreams.

And he would love her back.

But this morning, she had some hard facts to face. Succumbing to passion last night had been impulsive and unwise, no matter how good. A steady diet of head-banging sex wasn’t going to fix their problems. They were still fundamentally at odds and she didn’t see a way around that.

But maybe, for just a little while longer, she could lie in his arms and pretend everything was okay.

Which was fine for another five minutes until she couldn’t ignore the need to go to the toilet anymore and she shifted away from him.

“Hey,” he muttered, grabbing for her.

Addie looked at him, his jaw dark with unshaven stubble and she shivered, remembering how it had scratched along her back and neck last night. He opened his eyes and they were so impossibly blue her heart skipped a beat. “Just going to the loo,” she said.

He grinned. “Hurry back. I have something for you.”

Addie’s heart broke at his teasing. She wanted exactly this. Waking up next to him every morning with that look in his eyes that told her he was definitely going to perv on her when she got out of the bed.

But she didn’t see how it could work.

She slid out from under the covers, the temperature outside the duvet much, much cooler. Her nipples beaded when she stood and she turned and looked over her shoulder, waiting for his comment.

Instead, he was gaping at her as he vaulted upright. “Addie. Jesus, Addie!”

She frowned. “What?”

He was looking at her with an expression of horror, and Addie felt a spike of fear as the hair on her arms stood on end. “Your hips. I’m so sorry…I didn’t think I was that rough.”

Addie looked down and was greeted by dark black bruises on each hipbone that looked suspiciously like finger marks. For a moment, not a single thought entered her mind as she stood staring at them, frozen to the spot.

Then a hundred bad memories rushed out at her and she twisted back and forth, her neck craning around trying to see over her shoulder. “Are there any more?” she asked him frantically her heart rate beating off the scale.

Nathaniel frowned. “No, of course not. I wasn’t that rough. I don’t—”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish, bolting for the bathroom, slamming the door after her. She headed straight to the mirror. Her face looked flushed and suddenly her scratchy throat took on a whole other meaning.

This was how it has started last time. Waking up with what she thought was the flu and a whole bunch of bruises.

She saw panic in her gaze and fear and she placed her forehead against the cool glass before she saw death.

God, no, please. Not now. I’m just a couple of months shy of my five years. Please, I can’t go through this again.

“Addie?”

Oh God, Nate
. Why, oh why, did he come into her life now? Was there some sick, grand plan to kick her while she was down?

“Are you okay?” he called from the bedroom.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called, her hands shaking as she sat on the loo to relieve herself, her brain grappling with a hundred worst-case scenarios.

She took some deep breaths trying to calm herself, trying to find her center. She shut her eyes reciting her precious numbers, counting from one, chanting them quietly like a benediction, but she was too panicked and she kept losing her place as a more desperate mantra took over.