The Tycoon's Tender Triumph (6 page)

“I….” she started to say, but the words wouldn’t form.  She tried again.  “Sam, I can’t stay here long.  I have to get back to New York
.  I know I can convince my father to join me.  He’d love New York once he lets me show him around.
”

“Why
do you want to get back to work so quickly
?
  You just got here.
” he asked, and pulled his coat back on, setting the half empty cup of coffee on the counter. 

Chloe sighed, exasperated.  “Because I have a life!” she almost shouted.  “I have a boyfriend, a job, friends.  I need to get back. 
Once my father is more mobile, he and I will both be out of your hair
.”

“
Go say hello to your father, then g
et your coat,” was all he said, ignoring her comment about how she had to get back. 

Chloe smothered her anger, her hands fisting on her hips.  “I don’t have a coat,” she snapped.  “You didn’t pack one for me.”
  She didn’t want to argue with him any more since he didn’t argue back.  He simply laid down his law and that was that. 

So she turned on her heel and left the kitchen, ignoring the deep chuckle from behind her. 

She found her father in the downstairs bedroom and was relieved that he was awake. 

“Dad!” she gushed and raced across the large, sun filled room to throw her arms around him.  “Why didn’t you call and tell me you were hurt?  I can’t believe you let me go on as if nothing had happened while you were laid up like this.”

“Sam said he’d get you here, and here you are,” he replied as if that made all the sense in the world.

“But you should have called me.”

He laughed and made room for her on the bed.  “At first, I was too wiped out from the pain killers so Sam said he’d call.  Then, when you wouldn’t return his calls, I started to worry so he called your office to make sure you were okay.  When he found out you were good to go, he wrote you a letter and had it messengered.”  Her father chuckled and patted her hand.  “I had no idea you were such a hard little lady to get in touch with.  You must be having more fun up
there
in New York than I thought if you didn’t have time to answer your calls or letters.”

Chloe felt horrible because she didn’t really have a good life.  She worked so many hours that she rarely had time to go out and meet with her friends.  The biggest social event of her daily routine was her morning run where she spotted generally the same people in the park.  Although she didn’t know their names, it gave her a sense of security to know they were there at the same time she was each morning. 

“Everything is going great in New York.  No need to worry, dad.”

“I worry,” he grunted, knowing she was lying but not sure why.  He knew his daughter too well and when she couldn’t hold his gaze, something was going on. 

He didn’t push her for the moment, deciding to find out the truth a bit later on.  Instead, he explained his medical issue, assured her that he was mending just fine, then they talked about life in general for about an hour.  When Chloe saw his eyes start to droop, she knew he needed to sleep again and promised him she’d be back later in the day.

“Sam’s taking care of some horses I was watching for the neighbors.  You’re going to help him out, right?”

“Of course dad.  Don’t worry about anything.” 

She kissed his forehead, tucked the blanket around his shoulders,
and then
tiptoed out of the room. 

She found Sam in the great room, reading some papers and sipping coffee.  His coat was next to him and he stood up when she walked in. 

“Ready to go?”

“Dad said there are some horses that need some help?”

He nodded and pulled his coat on.  “They’re beauties.  You’re going to love them.”

“I need to head into town and get a coat.  Remember?”

“No need.”

“Are you kidding? 
Its
twenty degrees out there.  I can’t take care of those horses without a coat.”

Sam’s mouth turned up in the corners in what she suspected was a smile but he turned and headed to the back of the kitchen, returning moments later with a large leather coat.  “How’s this one?” he asked, handing her the thick, wool lined coat. 

Chloe eyed the coat, noting it was obviously a
woman’s winter coat.  Instant, red hot
jealousy flared up inside her and she almost stomped her foot at the emotion.  “I’m not wearing your girlfriend’s coat, Sam.  You can just dump that back into whatever closet it came from!”

Sam continued walking toward her, his eyes still lit with amusement.  “Girlfriend?” he chuckled.  “Now why would you automatically assume this was a girlfriend’s coat?  Don’t you think that all my women leave with whatever they came here in?”

Chloe took a step back and scowled at him.  “I don’t care what they arrive in or leave without.  But I’m not wearing they’re castoffs.”

Sam laughed outright now.  “
Soothe your ruffled feathers, beautiful,” he said and trapped her between his large body in front of her while he swung the coat over her shoulders.  She would have ducked out of the soft leather, but his hands were faster and they steadied her on her waist.  “The coat is one of my sister’s.  She lives in
California
with her husband and two kids but she leaves some clothes here for convenience.” 

Chloe felt her face flame red once again.  “This is
Sylvia’s
coat?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yep.”

“Oh,” she whisper
ed.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.  “And just for the record,” he said, his voice soft and husky as he bent down close to her ear, “You’re not very interested in that guy I saw at your place last night.”

Chloe stepped out
of his arms, glaring at him.  “W
hat do you know about my relationship with David?” she demanded.  “I care about him a great deal.  He’s very nice and a gentleman.”

The grin was slow and wicked as he bent even lower.  “Ah, but you see,” he said, his body crowding hers against the table while his hands braced against the chairs, forcing her to lean back or have his chest touch hers, “if you’d really been interested in him as a man, you wouldn’t have been wearing the white cotton underwear, now would you?” he asked, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. 

When the meaning of his words hit her, that he’d been the on
e to undress her and, therefore
he knew what color underwear she’d been wearing, her face turned beet red with humiliation.  “Ah!” she growled, pushing with all of her might against his massive chest.  He let her go, but only because he was laughing so hard at her expression. 
The male laughter followed her out of the house as she stomped through the side door, slamming it behind her in an effort to get away from the obnoxious man. 

She couldn’t believe she was stuck in this horrible place.  Her date had been interrupted, - and she wasn’t going to admit now that she had been relieved by the ringing of the doorbell at the time - her home invaded, her clothes invaded – especially her underwear, then she’d been kidnapped and her clothes taken off.  All at the hands of that irritating, disgusting, okay well, she couldn’t really call him disgusting since he was a truly attractive man, but odious, obnoxious, irritating, obstinate, ungentlemanly and all those other awful adjectives – could definitely be applied to Sam Marchant.  And she wanted to kick him, beat him up and tie him to some fence pole where no one would see him but the cows. 

Maybe, if she were lucky, he might even get gored by a bull or something icky like that, she thought with relish as she followed the path down to the
stable
.  At least she suspected it was a
stable
.  There were about five, large buildings that looked like they might hold horses or some sort of cattle but they didn’t look like the traditional
stable
-like edifice. They were too new, in the first place.  She’d always thought of
stable
s as red, with wh
ite trim that criss
-crossed over the doors. 

These buildings were tan and new and looked much sturdier than any
stable
she’d ever seen but she could see fencing around them so she drew the conclusion that the fences were used to keep cattle close by, ergo, the buildings were most likely
stable
s.

She was pretty proud of her deductions but when she was about fifty feet from the house, the man she wasn’t spea
king to, wasn’t even looking at
for the rest of her life if she could manage it, strode up to her, easily keeping pace with her
shorter
stride.  He still chuckled occasionally which meant that her mind frantically worked on other scenarios that caused him bodily damage or crushing humiliation.  Both if she could come up with a good idea but so far
her mind could only think of tripping him or stomping on his foot, both of which would probably endanger her more than him so her plans were inadequate.

When she kept walking in the direction of the smallest of the buildings, he eventually steered her toward
s
the middle building.  She wished she could pull her arm away from him, but as they neared the fenced area, the path became
more narrow
.  Which meant that pulling her arm free would mean she’d probably smack it into the metal fence.  She wasn’t into hurting herself, so she simply gritted her teeth and endured his touch. 

Well, endure isn’t quite the appropriate word, she thought to herself.  His touch wasn’t horrible, which was the main problem.  She liked it.  Too much.  His large hands, even through the thick leather coat, made her tremble with excitement. 

A moment later, she wished she could control her mind more effectively.  Instead of thinking of horrible, blood-letting or bruising punishments for her humiliation at his hands, she was wondering what it would be like to feel his hand
against her skin, without the leather or sweater hindering his touch.  She wanted to know what it would feel like if he kissed her, on the neck or on her shoulder. 

The path opened up slightly as they neared the out buildings so he didn’t need to hold her arm any longer.  She was relieved that even that slight touch would be gone.  She almost screamed out loud when his hand moved from her arm to the small of her back and she tried to walk a little faster, desperate to put some space between them, but he only picked up his pace and kept his hand where it was. 

He led her through one of the side doors and instantly, the cold air was replaced by the
warmer,
humid a
ir of the
stable
-like structure.
There were about thirty or forty horses in this building, each with their own stall and names on the
doors in brass. 

“The horses your father is caring for are over here.  But you don’t need to do anything.  I’ve got my men taking care of them.”

“I’ll do it,” she snapped, irritated by any help from him.  “My father, my responsibility.”

He shrugged and
soothed the muzzle of
the horse that instantly poked
its
head over the door at the sound of his voice.  “Your choice, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself by doing all the work.”

She didn’t have a response to that since she wasn
’t exactly sure how much work it would be to take
care of a few horses. 

He talked her through the daily routines of their car
e

, showed her where the supplies were and all the tack. 

“Don’t you have work to do?  Can’t one of your ranch hands show me all this?” she asked as she looked down the hallway where there were several men working.  Granted, they all seemed to be very industrious, but she wondered if perhaps they knew the big boss was around and were just looking extra diligent.