Tycoon Takedown Read online

  He dipped his tip inside her, withdrew it, then thrust powerfully upward and into her. Melanie cried out and threw her head back with pleasure as he guided her to meet his thrusts, taking him deeper each time. An orgasm rocked through her, clenching her inner muscles around him and she bent over to kiss him as she came.

  His lips clung to hers, but his thrusts were relentless. They took her through the lull after her climax and toward another, even stronger one. With an animallike cry, she untangled her hands and freed herself, grasping at his shoulders, clawing at his back while she ground down against him.

  He nipped at her breast and finally gave himself to his own release. She joined him, then collapsed down on top of him.

  “Mine,” he whispered in her ear.

  Melanie awoke again at the first light of dawn. She was naked and tucked against Charles. Careful not to wake him, she rested her head on his chest and let the steady beat of his heart soothe her.

  At what point will I wake up and realize I’m still at home and this was one wild erotic dream? She smiled. My dreams were never this good.

  Who would have thought he’d be the one asking her to stay and she’d be the one sprinting away?

  But it didn’t matter. Jace deserved a father who wanted him. And she deserved a partner. A real partner.

  Not just someone who gave her mind-blowing orgasms.

  And right now she needed, more than anything, to remember Jace was why she was in New York. Not Charles.

  She carefully inched away from him, pausing when he stirred.

  Melanie gathered her clothing off the floor and dressed silently in her jeans and blouse. She tied her hair back in a simple ponytail and took one last look at Charles, then closed the bedroom door softly behind her. She saw the time on a clock on the wall: seven o’clock.

  The perfect time to call Greece.

  Time to stop letting fear hold her back. No more excuses.

  She dug through her purse for the paper with Todd’s parents’ number. I’m not perfect, but I love my son and that will guide me through this. She stepped out onto the balcony.

  It rang once.

  It rang twice.

  “Hello?” an older woman’s voice answered cheerfully.

  Melanie’s first attempt to speak came out as a nervous croak. She shook her head and started over with determination. “Hello, I’m looking for Todd Jones.”

  The line went dead silent. Then the woman asked cautiously, “Who is this?”

  Looking down at the already busy streets below, Melanie cleared her throat and plowed forward. “My name is Melanie. I’m a friend of his from college. I’m in New York for a few days, and I was hoping to see Todd while I’m here. Could you help me find him?”

  The receiver was muffled for a moment and then a man’s voice asked, “Who am I speaking to?”

  Don’t hang up.

  “My name is Melanie Hanna. I knew Todd in college. I heard he moved to New York, but no one had an address after yours. Please. It’s important. I need to speak with him.”

  There was another long pause, then the man said, “I’m sorry. My son passed away last year.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in, then Melanie dropped to her knees on the balcony as bile rose in her stomach. “He’s dead?” she whispered in shock.

  “Yes.” The man’s tone softened as he heard the emotion in hers. “He was running in a marathon and had a sudden aneurysm. Were you close?”

  The balcony began to spin around Melanie and she couldn’t catch her breath. Todd’s dead. I waited too long. I can’t make this better. Tears clogged her throat and blurred her vision, and she dropped the phone into her lap.

  “She’s crying,” Todd’s father said to his wife. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

  “Melanie, are you alone? Can we call anyone for you?” Even at the distance the phone was from her ear, Melanie heard the concern in the woman’s voice and it tore through her. She didn’t deserve their concern.

  “No, I’m . . . I’m . . . I need to go.”

  Overwhelmed by the guilt washing over her, Melanie hung up and stood. Still breathing shallowly, and feeling like she was on autopilot, she gathered her luggage and paused at the door.

  She needed to leave. She had to get back to Jace.

  Through the years since she’d found out she was going to have Jace and through all the excuses she’d given herself to put off contacting Todd, she’d held on to the belief that there would be time to make it right later. It was that loss that sent her spiraling into a panic.

  I can’t fix this.

  I waited too long.

  She paused and considered writing a note for Charles.

  But what would I say? I’ve found out what I came for. Both Charles and I knew this wasn’t forever. I’m just ending it early.

  Besides, Charles is probably as interested in messy good-byes as I am.

  She closed the door behind her quietly and took the elevator down to the lobby. Once outside, she hailed a taxi. “LaGuardia Airport please.”

  Her mind was blank except for one clear thought: I need to see Jace.

  By the time she arrived at the airport, she was outwardly composed, even if inwardly she felt as if the world had crashed down around her. People in line were smiling and laughing and she wanted to scream, “Don’t you know that nothing will ever be okay again?” She went straight to the ticket counter.

  “You’re lucky,” the ticket agent said, “we have seats available on our next flight out in thirty minutes.”

  Yeah, that’s me.

  Lucky.

  Melanie bought a ticket and headed to security. After clearing the security line, she walked blindly to the designated gate just in time to board. She buckled herself in with cold hands and stared out the window.

  “I should sit in coach more often,” a deep male voice commented appreciatively as he sat down beside her.

  She turned to look into the friendly face of a man who appeared to be in his midtwenties. He was conservatively dressed in a casual suit and his hair was expertly cut, which made her imagine that many women would have found him attractive. You picked the wrong woman to try to hit on, buddy. Melanie turned away from him coldly.

  Undeterred, the man continued to address her. “Are you headed home?”

  Home? The word seared through her.

  I don’t know where that is anymore.

  With Charles in New York?

  Hiding out on a horse ranch in Texas? Is that any kind of home?

  I was so busy worrying about me and how people might judge me, I didn’t think of Jace. I just hid him away.

  Until it was too late.

  Tears streaming down her face, she turned back to the man beside her and shook her head wordlessly. He froze at her display of emotion and almost comically scrambled to stand and move to another seat.

  Melanie turned back toward the window. She heard the rustle of another passenger behind her but didn’t turn to see who it was. She tightened her seatbelt and closed her eyes, crying softly against the cool side of the plane.

  A hand touched her shoulder and Melanie looked up into the concerned eyes of a stewardess. “Are you okay, ma’am? A few of the passengers are worried about you.”

  Melanie accepted a tissue from the woman and blew her nose loudly. I’m very far from being okay, but I have to get myself under control. I can’t be like this when I see Jace. “Sorry,” Melanie said with a fortifying sniff. “I just found out someone I knew passed away.”

  “Oh my God,” the woman said. “No wonder you’re crying. Can I get you some water? Anything?”

  Melanie shook her head and the stewardess reluctantly returned to the front of the plane for takeoff. Once in the air, Melanie kept her face to the window, trying to distance herself from reality.

  That’s the thing about reality.

  You can’t wish it away.

  There is no rewind.

  No game reset.

  It’s the re
sult of choices made, and I keep choosing poorly.

  But I can do better.

  I will do better.

  “I’m sorry, but you look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Melanie opened her eyes and looked over two empty seats to a blonde woman across the aisle. Although she seemed pleasant enough, Melanie didn’t recognize her. “No.”

  “You’re not the Takedown Cowgirl, are you?” the woman asked.

  In confusion, Melanie shook her head. “Who?”

  The woman tapped the man next to her. “Doesn’t she look like the woman in the video that’s all over the news? The one who everyone thought was shooting a scene for a movie, but she was really getting mugged?”

  Melanie closed her eyes. Please. No.

  She opened her eyes, but they were still staring at her.

  “She does,” the man answered and gave Melanie a thumbs-up. “You kicked some serious ass that day. Kudos.”

  A teenage girl in the seat behind them stood from her seat. “Who is she?”

  The blonde woman said, “I think it’s the Takedown Cowgirl. Seriously.”

  “Oh my God, I have to see.”

  The lanky girl squeezed over the person in the aisle seat and made her way to sit one seat away from Melanie. “It is you! You are my fucking hero. No one will believe I met you. I need a selfie with you.” Without waiting for permission, she turned away and leaned back, including Melanie in the background of a picture she took with her phone.

  “I can’t wait to land and send this,” the girl said. She turned back and looked Melanie over with a critical eye. “Did he dump you? That hot guy who kissed you on the video? Is that why you’re crying? My mom says you staged the whole thing, but my friends and I don’t think you did. Did you?”

  The girl appeared to be about fourteen. Melanie prayed for strength and calm. “Look at the expression on my face. Do you think I’m in the mood to talk to anyone?”

  “No, you look pissed. But what are you gonna do? Knock me down? Hog-tie me?” The girl laughed. “Because that would be fucking awesome. It would go viral. Just make sure someone tapes it.”

  “Kara, get back to your seat,” a stern female voice said.

  “In a minute.”

  “No, you’re about to lose your cell phone if you don’t leave that lady alone.”

  “Fine.” The girl flounced back to her seat.

  Melanie let out a breath of relief when the seat beside her was once again filled, this time with a thin woman with gray hair cut in curls that framed her face. Her Texan drawl was a welcome sound even if her presence wasn’t. “Please excuse my granddaughter—her mother spoils her rotten. That’s why she’s coming to live with me for a while. Someone has to rein her in. Time mucking stalls should turn her around.”

  “I am not going to touch equine feces. Not in this lifetime,” her granddaughter called back from across the plane.

  The older woman chuckled. “Sex-ed classes should stop using dolls and eggs to represent what it’s like to parent. They should send everyone home with a teenager who swears and steals money out of their purse. That’s real birth control incentive.”

  Melanie found herself sympathetically smiling. “Sounds like a handful.”

  The woman shrugged. “She’ll be fine. I’ll ride it out. Their brains come back—although it takes a while sometimes. And she’s a good kid. I just have to help her remember that.”

  Gripping her hands tightly in her lap, Melanie said, “She’s lucky to have you.”

  The woman studied her face for a moment quietly, then asked, “Where are your parents?”

  “In Telson, on the ranch I grew up on,” Melanie said sadly. “They did their best to rein me in, but I bucked them right off and bolted.”

  “They good people?”

  “Yes,” Melanie answered simply.

  The woman put her hand on one of Melanie’s and patted it. “Maybe you should go see them when you land. You look like you need someone to talk to.”

  “I can’t,” Melanie said, her voice thick with emotion. “Things haven’t been good between us. I said terrible things to them. And I never apologized. Never.”

  “Do you have a child?” she asked gently.

  Melanie nodded. “Jace. He just started kindergarten.”

  “What could you forgive him?”

  “Anything,” Melanie said in a whisper.

  “Then go on home to them, sweetie.” With that, the woman returned to her seat, leaving Melanie to think about what she’d said.

  Charles strode from room to room in his apartment. Melanie had taken all her things with her. No note. No good-bye. Just gone.

  He called her hotel, but she hadn’t checked back in.

  Stomach churning with emotions he didn’t want to begin to try to label, he showered and dressed in a suit.

  Well isn’t that a punch in the stomach . . . The first woman I ask to live with me takes off like I offered her the mumps.

  I could have probably worded the invitation better.

  But I said she could bring her son.

  What more does she want?

  He thought back to how she’d looked, blindfolded and tied to his bed. He’d never tied a woman up before and was chastising himself for not researching a little before attempting it. It had been a spontaneous decision and one that he regretted now. He and Melanie had made a sort of pact to escape their normal lives together. He’d wanted to show her that she could trust him in and out of their fantasy time. Had he gone too far?

  He called her cell phone, but it rang through to voice mail. He didn’t leave a message.

  He was angry.

  He was sorry.

  He couldn’t understand how she could leave without at least saying good-bye. He called for his car to be brought around and slammed the door of his apartment as he left. He phoned his assistant to tell her they’d be working through the weekend. He needed to clear his head.

  He drove to his office, grinding the gears of his Mercedes-Benz along the way. I refuse to chase her. I was perfectly happy before I met her. By next week I won’t even remember her name.

  Charles walked past June without greeting her and slammed the door to his office. A moment later the phone on his desk rang on her line. He hit the speakerphone button impatiently. “What is it?”

  “You told me to hold all of your calls and I have, but there are some that are urgent and one I think you need to know about. I was up all night wondering if I should have called you instead of waiting to see you today.”

  “I would hope by now you’d have the sense to know if you should have.”

  There was a long and awkward silence on the line. In a thick voice, she finally answered, “Sorry, Mr. Dery. These calls fell outside of what you normally receive.”

  Charles paced in front of his desk, running both hands over his face roughly. He wasn’t known for being open to topics that weren’t work related, but he also wasn’t normally an ass to his staff. “June, I’m in a foul mood this morning. Who called?” It was as close to an apology as he had within him, but it proved to be enough.

  Sounding more like her normally upbeat self, June said, “Almost every morning news show out there and some cable channels. They’d like to interview you and a woman they are calling the Takedown Cowgirl.”

  “Has Javits called yet?”

  “Your lawyer? Twice yesterday. He said he tried to reach you on your cell, too. He found what you were looking for.”

  It took Charles a moment to remember that he’d asked his lawyer to hunt down the boy who had mugged Melanie. “I’ve been busy,” Charles growled, then pulled his temper back under control when he saw her eyes widen. It wasn’t her fault Melanie had left without saying good-bye. Nor was it her fault that this news illustrated how impossible putting Melanie out of his head would be.

  “Call Javits. Put him through as soon as you have him on the line.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Dery. You should also call Rawlings. He said he expected s
omething from you yesterday.”

  Shit.

  “I’ll call him now. Thank you, June.”

  He’d like to blame Melanie for causing him to drop the ball, but it was his fault. He’d lost focus. He’d chosen to put everything aside for her.

  Lesson learned.

  He went to sit behind his desk and slumped in his chair. I’ve worked too hard for too long to throw it all away on a woman.

  He turned on his computer, quickly finished the proposal he’d promised Rawlings, and sent it to him. He’d give him an hour to look it over, then contact him.

  He looked down at his cell phone on his desk with disgust, hating how much he wanted to call Melanie.

  I don’t need distractions right now.

  I need to get my head back in the game.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was early afternoon when Melanie arrived in a taxi at her parents’ house unannounced. She tipped the driver, took her luggage, and walked up the stairs of the home she’d grown up in. It was a large ranch that they’d built onto as her parents had raised their four daughters. It wasn’t a home that would impress the people she’d met in New York, but her father had built most of it himself and had paid it off long ago.

  So many memories she loved—and some she hated—came flooding back each time she stood on this porch. Her first kiss. Prom photos. Hot summer evenings spent with her sisters drinking lemonade and sharing secrets. It was also where everything had blown up with her parents.

  She put the luggage off to one side of the porch, gathered her courage, and stepped inside. Her father had retired when the factory he’d worked at for years relocated southward.

  “Mom? Dad?” she called out. “Anyone home?”

  The door hadn’t been locked, but that wasn’t unusual. They lived by different rules out on her parents’ farm. The place was never unattended since there was always a ranch hand around. However, security in these parts didn’t rely on electronic monitoring devices. Instead, even a home as nice as her parents’ had its share of shotguns. People didn’t wander onto other people’s property uninvited. Period.