Tycoon Takedown

  “I think you mean divorced.”

  “Nope. Lyle said his mom caught his dad cheating and threw all his stuff out the window of his house. He said she deported him.”

  Whatever Lyle had called it, Melanie was sad that children went through those situations at all. It saddened her that her child had a word for it. She wanted to protect him from the harshness of the world, but the older he became the more she saw how impossible that would be. His world reached beyond the ranch and that was how it was meant to be.

  His innocence twisted through Melanie’s chest. “I’m sorry that happened to your friend.”

  Jace nodded solemnly, wise beyond his young years. “If you marry someone, will he be my dad?”

  “If you want him to be.”

  “What if he didn’t like me?”

  Melanie swallowed hard as emotions clogged her throat. “I would never marry a man who didn’t love you as much as I do.”

  “Does your friend like kids?”

  Melanie rubbed her son’s arm reassuringly. “I don’t think he’s been around them enough to know if he does or doesn’t.”

  “He doesn’t ride horses.”

  “No, but he hasn’t been around them, either.”

  “He doesn’t fish. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t fish.”

  Melanie chuckled. “He lives in a big city, Jace. I’m sure he hasn’t had many chances to.”

  “I could teach him,” Jace offered graciously.

  Melanie ruffled her son’s hair. “You would do that?” She imagined Charles sitting with Jace on the rocks near their favorite fishing spot. What would he do if handed a bucket of worms? Probably hightail it right back to New York.

  “I’m really good at it. David says so.”

  “You certainly are.”

  “Maybe your friend would smile more if he fished. David says every man should know how to bait his own hook.”

  “Then if I see Charles again, I’ll ask him if he wants to take a fishing lesson from you. Now go to sleep. You have school tomorrow.” She tucked the blankets tighter around her son’s sides, then stood and walked back to the door.

  “Mama?” Jace said in the darkness.

  “Go to sleep.”

  “Don’t marry a man who doesn’t know how to fish.”

  Melanie blinked back tears. “I won’t, baby. Now. Close your eyes and think about something happy.”

  “Like kittens? Lyle’s cat just had kittens.”

  “We are not getting a kitten. You have a dog. That’s all I can handle.”

  “I’ll just dream about them. About how happy I would be if I had a kitten.”

  “Good night, Jace. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mama.”

  Just outside Jace’s door, Melanie gave in to the emotions of the day. She leaned against the wall. Now that Jace was in bed, she didn’t need to pretend to be strong anymore. She covered her face with both hands and took a shaky breath.

  Charles is here.

  He came for me.

  Said he wanted to marry me.

  And I walked away from him.

  She pushed herself off the wall and walked down the hall to her bedroom. On autopilot, she changed into her nightgown and brushed her teeth. What else could I have done? Jace was there along with my parents. It wasn’t the time or the place for the conversation we need to have.

  She padded back to her bedroom and picked up her phone. No one is here now.

  She scrolled to his number on her contact list and hesitated. He’s probably on his way back to New York by now, wondering why he thought it would work between us. And he’s right. She thought about how she’d let fear stop her in the past and pressed his number.

  I don’t want to move to the city.

  He’s not moving here—no matter what he said about wanting to marry me. There is nothing for him way out here.

  No, it would never work between us. He barely spoke to Jace. No matter how much I want to be with him, Jace needs to come first. On the ranch he may not have a father, but he has people who care about him.

  But, God, I want to hear Charles’s voice one more time.

  I swear, I’ll stay strong this time. I’ll apologize and let him go. Just let me hear him say my name in that husky I-want-you-now tone—one last time.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Melanie.”

  Melanie closed her eyes. His voice was deep and tempting, and exactly the way she remembered when he said her name. “Charles, I hope it’s not too late to call you.”

  “It’s only eight thirty,” he said in a tone that was warmly teasing.

  “Of course. I wasn’t thinking . . .” Melanie sat on the edge of her bed and smacked her forehead. Focus on why you called. “I owe you an explanation. About New York . . .”

  “Are you coming to me or am I coming to you?” he asked and his voice sent shivers of desire through her.

  “You’re still in Texas?” Melanie asked, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

  “I didn’t know,” Melanie admitted softly and flopped back into the comfort of her bed.

  “I said I want to marry you.”

  Melanie closed her eyes and asked the question that had been plaguing her all night. “Why? Why do you want to marry me?”

  Charles was quiet for a moment, as if the question had taken him by surprise. It bothered Melanie that his response wasn’t a quick and emphatic. “I love you.”

  Would I have believed him if it had been?

  As his silence dragged on, Melanie began to regret that she’d asked the question. Finally, he said, “When I’m not with you, all I can think about is being with you again. We’re good together, Melanie. So good I can’t think straight when we’re apart.”

  Images of their time together flooded her mind, wetting her panties as her body remembered the pleasure he’d brought her. “Sex is not a good reason to get married.”

  “Then don’t marry me. Live with me. I don’t care.”

  And there you have it, the depth of his feelings and how little the sanctity of marriage means to him. Melanie shook her head. “I care, Charles. I’m not moving my son in with a man I’m not married to and I’m not marrying someone I barely know.”

  “I’d say we know each other quite intimately.”

  “Outside of bed, Charles. How well do you know me? Really? Do you know my favorite flower? How I like my coffee? If I sing in the shower?”

  “I’d know all that if you lived with me.”

  “Where? In New York? What about Jace?”

  “I said he can move in, also.”

  “How accommodating of you.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Try to see this from my point of view. What we do affects more than just our lives. He’s never had a father. I won’t bring men in and out of his life.”

  “There won’t be other men in your life,” Charles said definitively. “Marry me.”

  “No, Charles.”

  “Does Jace go to school tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but I have to work.”

  “Call in sick,” Charles said. “I need you. Spend the day with me.”

  There were oh-so-many reasons why Melanie knew she should say no, but they didn’t matter.

  She wanted to be with Charles as much as he wanted to be with her. Even if it was one last time. Even if it didn’t make sense to say yes.

  “I don’t know. If you come here, someone will see your limo,” Melanie said, not ready to face the questions that his presence at her house would bring from all directions.

  Including myself. Why am I even considering this? Didn’t I just say we’re a bad idea?

  “Nothing will stop me from seeing you tomorrow. The how and where are your choice.”

  Melanie said, hedging, “I hate to miss any days at work. I’m still new there.”

  “You’re not going to work tomorrow.”

  “But I—”

/>   “I’ve wasted months telling myself I could forget you. I know we don’t make sense. I know every reason we shouldn’t see each other tomorrow, but I don’t care about any of them. I need to see you again. I need to know what happened. Why did you leave without saying anything?”

  “If I go with you tomorrow—”

  “When,” he corrected.

  “I’d have to be back to meet Jace after school. He gets off the bus at three.”

  “What time does the bus pick him up?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “Then I’ll be there at 8:05.”

  “Okay,” Melanie whispered.

  Charles was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Melanie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not leaving Texas without you.”

  The line went dead and Melanie dropped the phone next to her on the bed. Charles was a man who didn’t pretty things up. He meant what he said.

  He wants me—as much as I want him.

  But is that enough?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charles entered a small bar across the street from the hotel he’d found in town. He needed a stiff drink or he’d never get to sleep. The interior was dimly lit, with patrons scattered around the room at high tables. Charles took a seat at the counter and ordered a glass of the bar’s most expensive scotch. He downed it as a shot.

  “Your car break down?” the bartender asked, leaning against the bar in front of him.

  Charles shook his head.

  “You chasing some serial killer or something?”

  “I’m sorry?” Charles asked impatiently, seeking numbness, not conversation.

  “I’m trying to figure out if you’re FBI or some rich guy passing through.”

  “Do I have to tell you anything to get a second round?”

  “Nope. It’s none of my business.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s just that we don’t get many rich folk around here. We have Carlton out there on his ranch and a few oil families. Maybe there was a spill and you’re the lawyer they sent to cover the story up?”

  “I’m not a lawyer,” Charles said and accepted the second drink. He downed that one and let out a hiss at the welcome burn of the alcohol down his throat.

  Charles felt a shoulder bump. A large man sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, what do we have here? Looks like one of those big-city types.”

  Charles’s head snapped in the direction of the slurred voice. “Get your hand off me.”

  “Not while you’re sitting in my favorite seat. You need to move.”

  Charles estimated the man to be in his midtwenties, probably an ex-football player by the size of him and how he instinctively used his shoulders to clear his way. Although Charles had a few years on him, he wasn’t intimidated. Charles had kept his body toned and in fighting condition through Tai Chi and running. Clearly, the man behind him had done neither.

  The bartender said, “Seth, don’t go starting any trouble tonight. You’re still paying me for the mirror you and your friends broke last month. Don’t make me call the sheriff.”

  The man lifted his hand to give Charles a shove. “No trouble because he’ll move.”

  Charles clenched his fist on the bar. “If that hand touches me I will shove it down your throat.”

  The bartender stepped away.

  “Try it,” Seth said, puffing up into a fighting stance.

  Here I was thinking shit like this only happened in movies. Where is the small-town welcome everyone talks about?

  Seth took a swing at him, but Charles evaded it easily. Time and experience had taught Charles that not every fight was worth the energy. What would be the gain of pummeling this man to a pulp? None that fit his objective for being in Fort Mavis.

  Seth was obviously drunk and his antics well known. Charles stood. “I don’t want to fight you. Go sober up somewhere.”

  Another man about the same size, dressed in jeans and a red plaid shirt, walked over and said, “Seth, what’s going on?”

  “This guy thinks he’s better than us.”

  The man took a position of support beside Seth. “Is that so?”

  Charles faced the other man head-on. “I am here for a drink, that’s all.”

  “We don’t like foreigners coming in here and starting shit.”

  “New York is hardly another country.” Although it was beginning to feel like it was another planet. The irony in Charles’s tone enraged both men.

  “I don’t like the way you talk,” Seth said.

  “That’s not my problem,” Charles said dismissively.

  “Seth, I called the sheriff. Jimmy, take him home and dry him out. Neither one of you needs more trouble,” the bartender said.

  “You gonna hide behind the sheriff, city boy?” Seth snarled.

  Charles didn’t say anything, just held his ground and stared them down. He used the time to study his opponents and calculate the best counter to whatever they might pull. He hadn’t amassed his fortune by reacting to any situation without strategy and skill. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but if one came to him, he would sure as hell win it.

  “We should take this outside,” Jimmy said. “Mom said she wouldn’t bail me out again.”

  Charles looked from one to the other and almost smiled. Mom? Bail out again? His use-what-your-opponent-is-afraid-to-lose-against-him strategy was less effective when dealing with Tweedledee and Tweedledumber.

  It also changed Charles’s evaluation of how potentially dangerous the two men were. People with nothing to lose fight differently. They don’t honor rules. They don’t fear consequences.

  At least one of them is afraid of his mother. That might prove useful.

  Tony Carlton walked in and the bar fell silent. Charles half expected to see him sporting a gun belt like in some old western. Tony pushed back his hat, scanned the room, and nodded to Charles when he saw him. He walked straight into the mix confidently and flashed his teeth in mockery of a smile. “Charlie, I see you’re making friends.”

  “Impossible not to in such a friendly town,” Charles said with the same sarcasm.

  “You know this guy, Carlton?” Seth asked angrily.

  “Yes.”

  “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like him.”

  Note to self, do not use Tony as a character reference in Fort Mavis.

  Tony took his hat off and laid it on the bar. “Sounds like you’ve been drinking too much again, Seth. Go on home.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Seth said.

  “You should be,” Tony said in a low and deadly tone. “Charlie here is my fiancée’s brother. A wise man would leave him alone.”

  “Oh, I’ll leave him alone, all right.” Seth turned and stepped like he was going to leave, but he picked up a chair and swung it in the direction of Tony’s back.

  Charles used the man’s momentum against him. With a swing of a leg, he knocked him off balance and sent him to the floor. The man beside him swung a fist at Charles, but he blocked it and gave him a slammer of a punch to his nose, sending the man to his knees with a bloody nose.

  Seth was back on his feet and furious. He swung at Charles and missed. Charles followed with a punch to his stomach that sent him back to the floor. Looking down at the two fallen men, Charles remembered one of his martial arts instructors consistently labeling his responses as too aggressive, advocating, instead, a defense that involved little or no physical contact.

  Yeah, I never mastered that.

  Just then, the sheriff entered the bar and flipped on the lights. He looked at the two men on the ground and at Tony. “I thought you were done fighting with the locals.”

  Tony shrugged, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t touch either of them. Sarah sent me to see how her brother was settling in.”

  The bartender said, “Just as I told you on the phone, Dean, Seth and Jimmy need an escort home.”

  Seth whined, “We’re not the ones causing troub
le, Dean.”

  Dean took Seth by the arm. “Right. I’ve heard that before. You’ll be sleeping in a cell tonight, Seth, while I sort this out. Then we’ll see if anyone is pressing charges.”

  He took the other man by the arm. “You, too, Jim?”

  The man with the bloody nose was suddenly contrite rather than aggressive. “You don’t have to tell my mom about this, do you, Dean? I didn’t touch him. Look at him. Not a mark on him. He’s some sort of city ninja.”

  Charles shook his head. “No, just a whole lot more sober.”

  Looking reluctantly impressed, Tony said, “You’ve got a good punch to you.”

  Charles looked down at his swollen knuckles. “I can’t remember the last time I hit someone.” Then he smiled at Tony. “Oh, wait, I can.”

  Tony narrowed his eyes, cocked his head to one side, then barked out a laugh. “I’ve never liked you, Charlie, but you’re growing on me.”

  Dean nodded at Charles. “So you’re Sarah’s brother. Welcome to Fort Mavis.”

  “You’ve got quite a town, here, Sheriff.”

  “Don’t let these two frame your opinion. They’re not half bad when they haven’t been drinking. They won’t bother you again. Do you want to press charges?”

  Charles thought about what Melanie had said about Tanner and shook his head. He didn’t know what had brought Seth and Jim to where they were, but he doubted an arrest would help either of their situations. “No.”

  After the sheriff left with the two men, Charles sat back down at the bar. The bartender placed a fresh drink in front of him. “It’s from Wyatt over there. He says thanks for the show. We don’t get much excitement round here.”

  Charles turned and raised his glass to the little old man a few tables away. Tony sat on a barstool beside him.

  The bartender continued, “He also wanted me to tell you he has a daughter. She’s pretty, too. Makes a mean barbecue.”

  Tony said, “He’s marrying Melanie.”

  “Oh,” the bartender replied, then smiled. “Congratulations.” He turned to the rest of the crowd, pointed at Charles, and said loudly, “He’s marrying Melanie.”

  The patrons gave a round of applause and well wishes. Once it died down, Charles spoke in a tone just loud enough for Tony to hear. “She hasn’t agreed to that yet.”

  Tony accepted a beer from the bartender and said, “Then maybe it’s time to ditch the suit.”