Tycoon Takedown Page 7

  “Melanie, you’re early. Jace is in the barn with Tony. Looks like Midnight will foal tonight or tomorrow. Jace didn’t want to miss it. Want me to call him in?”

  Melanie sat heavily down in the chair in front of the small desk. “In a minute. I need to talk to you first.”

  Sarah’s smile fell away and she brought the phone closer to her face. “Did something happen? Did you find Jace’s father?”

  “Not yet,” Melanie said, not even sure yet what she wanted to say to Sarah, though just hearing the voice of her only close friend was a comfort. Melanie lived only a few towns over from where she’d grown up. She’d had friends she’d known from before she’d started kindergarten. She always thought they’d grow old while living close by one another, but then she’d attended a different college from the rest of the crowd. She’d wanted to see more of the world. When she found out she was pregnant, some had rallied to her side, but Melanie had been too angry to accept their support. She’d distanced herself from them just as she’d distanced herself from her family.

  Funny thing about the world—it goes on with or without you. When she’d turned down one invitation after the next, they stopped coming. Her old friends had graduated, married, and started families. Some had stayed local and some had moved away.

  All while Melanie had hidden on Tony Carlton’s ranch and blamed everyone but herself for how her life had turned out. Hidden with her boss, who had been just as bitter as she was.

  Until Sarah had come into their lives and made them both believe in second chances. She was the most openly loving and understanding person Melanie had ever met. One would think someone that optimistic had lived a charmed life, but she hadn’t.

  Sarah had come to Texas with more than luggage and her horse. She’d brought a whole lot of guilt and sadness with her, also. Her younger brother had drowned while she, still a child herself, had been watching him, and that loss had, according to Sarah, shattered her family.

  People talk about how strong families are, but no one warns that they can also be as fragile as glass left out in the snow. One wrong tap and they shatter into hundreds of irreparable pieces.

  Or so Melanie had thought before she met Sarah.

  Sarah’s family may have been ravaged by a tragedy, but she hadn’t given up. She’d refused to be defined by her mistakes.

  Melanie didn’t consider Jace a mistake. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. But she wasn’t proud of how she’d handled herself since his birth. Until she’d met Sarah, she’d let that disappointment in herself shape how she saw herself and what she considered herself capable of.

  Not anymore. For that transformation, Sarah would always own a special place in Melanie’s heart. “Sarah, I came here because I thought I could make things better, but what if I make them worse? What if none of this was a good idea?”

  Sarah gave her the encouragement Melanie knew she would. “There is no way to know until you do it. But you’re a good mother, Melanie. Trust your instincts.”

  Melanie blinked back tears and looked away. “That’s the point. I don’t know if I have any. I thought I did. Now I’m so confused.”

  Case in point, sleeping with Charles.

  “Do you want me to fly up there? David and Tony can watch Jace.”

  “No, I’m okay,” Melanie said quickly. Having Sarah join her in New York was the same as admitting that she couldn’t do this alone. And it was important to Melanie to prove to herself that she could.

  “I’ll call Charles. He’s really good at giving advice. Trust me, really good. Most of the time you don’t even have to ask for it.”

  “No,” Melanie said emphatically.

  A line of concern wrinkled Sarah’s forehead. “Did he say something to offend you? He doesn’t mean to. He’s really a big softy once you get to know him.”

  A beep on Melanie’s phone revealed an incoming call.

  Charles.

  It’s like he knows we’re talking about him.

  She let his call ring through to voice mail.

  “Please don’t call your brother. He’s done more than enough for me.”

  “If you’re sure,” Sarah said doubtfully.

  “I couldn’t be more so,” Melanie said firmly. Changing the subject, Melanie asked, “Do you mind taking your phone out to Jace? I’d like to talk to him before I lie down, in case I fall asleep.”

  “Absolutely,” Sarah said. As she walked to the barn, she continued to talk. “Don’t think you have to go through this by yourself, Mel. If you need me, just call me. I don’t care what time it is.”

  Love for her friend spread through Melanie, giving her the strength she’d been looking for. She put on a brave face in preparation for talking to her son. “I’m probably just tired today. Thank you, Sarah. For everything.”

  “Mama!” Jace exclaimed as soon as Sarah approached him with her phone. All of Melanie’s concerns took a backseat to the joy she felt listening to her son tell her about his day.

  An image of Charles hovered, but she beat it back.

  This is what’s important.

  It was well past midnight when Charles sat up in his bed and flipped on the light. He threw back the bedcovers and, dressed only in boxers, went onto the large balcony of his apartment. He might have been trying to sleep, but New York never did. He found the sound of traffic below soothing.

  Nothing has changed, he told himself. He was exactly where he belonged.

  He didn’t need a woman coming into his life and confusing him when he was so close to having everything he needed.

  A woman who doesn’t even answer my phone calls.

  He rested his elbows on the railing, leaned forward with a sigh, and ran his eyes wearily over the surrounding buildings. Even this late at night, some offices were illuminated, most likely by people eager to achieve even a slice of what he had.

  Should he tell them the ugly truth that he was just now starting to realize?

  Offer rare personal advice?

  Go home—if you still have someone to go home to. Being at the top feels empty if you have no one to share it with.

  He slammed a hand down on the railing in frustration. He’d always considered himself one of those men who’d been born to be a bachelor. He’d never wanted the complicated mess marriage and kids brought. He’d never understood why any man would.

  If the twisting in his gut were merely loneliness, calling any of the single women in his social circle would have sufficed. This was more than that.

  Fight it as he tried, something about Melanie called to a part of him he’d denied for years. She was real in a way few people in his circle were. He barely knew her. But he wanted to.

  He wanted that more than he had wanted anything in a very long time.

  Calling her again wasn’t an option he liked considering, but he needed to hear her voice—to make sure she was okay. In business, Charles was known for being decisive and dogged. He didn’t back down. He set a goal and destroyed whatever and whoever stood between him and achieving it. He was a man who was used to winning.

  By some men’s definitions, he’d won when it came to Melanie. He’d wanted her and he’d had her. But the price had been higher than he could have guessed.

  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face and the hurt she’d tried to conceal beneath her anger as she’d left him.

  Anyone else would have hauled her back into bed and put her fears to rest. She thought he didn’t care about her—he could tell. But he did. His initial instincts about her had been correct. She wasn’t the type to have sex casually. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d looked up at him, naked and vulnerable—waiting for him to proclaim something or callously walk away.

  He wasn’t the type to do either, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Which was what he would have explained to her if she’d been ready to hear him. The idea that she was hurting because of him was unbearable. He walked into his apartment and found his cell phone.

  Melanie
answered in a voice husky and groggy from sleep. “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  He heard a rustle of bedcovers, the click of a light, and then an audible groan. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “No, we don’t. I’m hanging up now.”

  He refused to let this conversation end as their last one had. “You’d rather discuss this in person?”

  “I’d rather you take the hint and go away.”

  He took a deep breath and pushed forward honestly. Somehow, he would make her understand. “I never meant to hurt you. I shouldn’t have slept with you. We should have taken it slower. That was my fault. I’m—”

  “If you say you’re sorry, I will scream. I used to think that not being called after sex was the worst thing that could happen, but I was wrong. I don’t want to hear all the reasons why what we did was a bad idea. You think I don’t know them? I do. I feel bad enough without you listing them for me. I don’t need this. Don’t call me again.”

  The line went dead.

  Charles threw his phone onto the bed.

  Fuck.

  He paced back and forth, angry with himself for calling her, angry with her for making him feel even more like a heel.

  He wasn’t a man who stumbled over his words, but with her he found himself saying the most idiotic things. Who the hell apologizes for sex? No wonder she hung up on me. What did I think she was going to do? Absolve me?

  Especially when they both knew he wasn’t sorry.

  Coming to a decision, Charles went to his closet and, merely out of habit, donned a suit. He gathered his phone and wallet, then called down to have his car brought around.

  On the drive over to the hotel, he called his assistant. After giving her the moment she needed to wake up, he told her to clear his schedule for the next day.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

  “Not yet,” he answered vaguely, “but I intend to remedy that.” He hung up and called Mason’s cell number.

  “Hey,” Mason answered easily. “What do you need?”

  “Some advice,” Charles growled and shifted the gears of his car forcefully.

  “You have some nerve calling me at this time of night to discuss supporting your bill.” Mason covered the phone partially and said to whoever was with him, “I have to take this call, darlin’. It’s important. Call me next time you’re in town, though.”

  Charles stopped for a red light, grunted with disgust, and raised a hand to press the disconnect button on his car phone. “You’re busy.”

  “No, hang on.”

  Charles rolled his eyes through the sound of Mason saying good-bye again to a woman. A moment later, Mason let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect timing. I did not think I could get her to leave tonight. This is why I don’t usually bring them home.” It sounded like he flopped down on his couch. “Now, let’s start over. What do you need?”

  “I slept with Melanie, but I screwed it up.”

  Mason said with some amusement, “Most of the process should come naturally. If you’re looking for pointers, though, I do have a few techniques I’m proud of.”

  With a groan, Charles said, “Why do I call you?”

  In a much more serious tone, Mason said, “Sorry. I’m just not used to you like this.”

  “Like what?” Charles asked harshly.

  “Unsure of yourself.”

  “Every time I talk to her I say something worse.”

  “Come on, it can’t be all that bad.”

  “I apologized to her for sleeping with her.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Twice.”

  Mason laughed. “You do need my help.”

  “She told me to stop calling her.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  “I’m driving over to her hotel now.”

  “Because you’ve put the past behind you and it doesn’t bother you anymore that she has a child?” When Charles didn’t answer, Mason continued. “Or because you want to fuck her again?”

  This was why he’d called Mason. He might be able to lie to himself, but he couldn’t lie to someone who knew him so well. “I don’t know,” Charles said angrily, then repeated more quietly, “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to throw this out there and you do with it as you want. Most women don’t appreciate a two a.m. apology.”

  “I have to see her. It’s all I can think about. You’ve known me a long time, Mason. What the hell am I doing?”

  Mason didn’t answer at first, then he said, “I felt the same way about my first Ferrari. I had to have it. That first ride was sweet. I mean amazing. But after a while, any car is just that—another car. Date her. Get her out of your system. She’s exciting because you put her on the forbidden list, but once you spend more time with her, I guarantee you the fascination will fade.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “So don’t lie to her. Lay it out for her and let her decide what she wants to do. You may be surprised by her answer.”

  Charles nodded. “You’re right. I’m making this into a bigger deal than it is.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll just tell her how it has to be.”

  “And then it’s on her to stay or go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Melanie had given up trying to sleep and was absently flipping between channels on the television as she ran through her last conversation with Charles for the hundredth time.

  Why keep calling to apologize? Is he afraid I’ll run back to Sarah with a sob story? That’s not my style. I knew what I was doing when I went to his apartment with him.

  He wanted me.

  I wanted him.

  There was nothing wrong with what happened.

  The problem was in my head. I wanted him to tell me it meant something to him . . . that I meant something to him. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen when you sleep with men you barely know.

  A loud knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and her hand stilled on the remote. Her head snapped to the clock to check the time. Half past two in the morning.

  Her hotel was in a decent area, or so the travel sites had claimed, but it was cheaper than many she’d priced and sometimes that meant a wilder crowd.

  Melanie looked around the room for something she could use as a weapon if it came to that. She picked up one of her boots and held it next to her on the bed. If swung just right, the heel of it could knock someone back long enough to buy her some time.

  There was another knock, this time louder. “Melanie. It’s Charles. Open the door.”

  An entirely different kind of fear filled Melanie. She clutched the boot to her, went up on her knees so she could see herself in the mirror, and groaned. There was nothing sexy about the disheveled woman in the knee-length T-shirt who stared back at her.

  She sat back on her heels and shook her head.

  No way in hell am I answering the door like this. Wait him out. He’ll give up and go away.

  “Melanie,” he said her name as if he were issuing an order.

  So much for plan A. “Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

  “No.”

  Melanie stepped off the bed, still clutching the boot to her stomach, and approached the door. “I won’t tell anyone what happened between us, Charles. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Open the door.”

  Melanie peered through the peephole in the door. He was dressed in a business suit. Nothing in his hands. What did I expect? Flowers? When am I going to learn? She looked down at her unpainted toenails and shook her head.

  Might as well get this over with.

  Boot still in hand, she opened the door impatiently, placed a hand on her hip, and glared at him. “What do you want?”

  He stepped forward, cupped her face between both of his hands, and pulled her into a kiss. She had been hurt by this man mere hours ago. She should
throw him out. Tell him to go to hell. Anything but give in to the kiss. But the second his lips were on hers, common sense and caution shook hands and left the room. Passion swept through Melanie and she came alive beneath his touch. He kissed her with the passion of a man returning to his woman. No excuses. No hesitation. And she couldn’t help herself. She gave herself over to it. In that kiss she was his and they both knew it.

  At the sound of her boot hitting the floor, he broke off the kiss and lowered his hands. “I want you, Melanie—like I’ve never wanted anyone in my life.” He stepped past her into the room and closed the door behind him. He picked up the boot she’d dropped and tossed it across the room. When he looked up at her, she saw desire churning in his eyes.

  It would have been ridiculous to claim she didn’t feel the same. Whatever was between them was mutual.

  But that didn’t mean giving in to him again was a good idea.

  “Please. Just go.”

  He pulled her into the solid comfort of his embrace and buried his face in her hair. “I can’t,” he said simply.

  She pushed against his chest angrily. “Why?”

  His eyes burned. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  This time when he kissed her, it was a gentle request and one she didn’t try to deny. She met his lips hungrily. I don’t know how to fix yesterday and I don’t know what tomorrow holds—but I need this.

  “I don’t, either,” she said baldly.

  With that, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He lowered her to her feet just before it. With one sure move, he whisked her long T-shirt up over her head.

  Melanie gasped and sputtered at his almost overwhelming forwardness, but all protest died on her lips when she saw the expression in his eyes. Never before had she felt adored by a man, but his gentle touch followed his gaze in an act of worship. He ran a hand down her exposed neck, the side of one breast, and settled on her still panty-clad hip. She shuddered in response.

  “How long are you in New York?” he asked softly.

  “I planned to leave Monday.” Her voice sounded husky to her own ears.