Tycoon's Tryst (Culpepper Cowboys Book 10) (2 page)

Rachel caught her breath, bits of her that she hadn’t felt for way too long thrumming to life. And he was definitely heading in her direction. She took a half-step back, mouth falling open in a soft “O”…

…And promptly tripped on the curb. Not only that, the heel on her business pumps snapped off, so that when she tried to catch her balance, she faltered and spilled backwards. Her butt hit the pavement with a sharp crack of pain.

“Ow!” It was a miracle something stronger didn’t escape her lips.

“Are you okay?” The god in a suit sped up, dashing across the empty street and reaching her just in time to give her a hand up.

“Yeah,” Rachel groaned. She’d reached back to catch herself as she fell, and her palms now had light scrapes on them. That didn’t stop her from taking the sexy man’s hands and letting him haul her to her feet. Sheesh! He lifted her as though she was a feather.

As soon as she was righted, she lost her balance again because of her damn heel. She pitched forward, but the man caught her, holding her close. Mmm, he smelled like sandalwood and sunshine. His chest was hard as a rock. She could just wrap her arms around him and lean her head on his shoulder and—

With an abrupt jerk, she stiffened, putting some distance between herself and the man before she made a right fool of herself.

“You all right there, miss—?”

Huh? Oh! Right. Her name.

“Rachel,” she breathed out, then instantly cursed herself for acting like a ninny.

“Hi, Rachel.” He grinned, and Rachel realized he still had his arms around her.

“Hi.” She blushed and glanced down. For being in a complete disaster of a situation, this sure did feel good.

“Sly.”

“Huh?” She snapped her eyes up to him.

“My name’s Sly.”

She couldn’t help herself. She burst into a giggle. “That’s your name?”

His answering grin sent hot bubbles boiling up in her gut. “Yeah.”

She blinked. “Nice to meet you, Sly.”

For a second the two of them just stood there. He still had his arms around her. She had the sudden, wild thought that she didn’t ever want him to let her go. Like,
never
.

“So…come here often?” he asked.

“I…” His spicy scent was muddling her thoughts into mush. “My rental broke down.”

Of all the stupid things to say.

“Slowly or all at once?”

“All at once,” she answered. Just like she’d fallen for him.

No, wait, that was ridiculous.

“Have you tried jumping the battery?”

She blinked at him. “It’s not a battery thing. It stopped as I was driving. I barely had time to coast into this space.”

She expected him to make some sort of speech with all the things that could be wrong with the car, talking to her like she didn’t know how to stick a key in the ignition—like her half-sister Beverly—when the probability was that she knew more about cars than he did.

Instead, he said, “If it were me, I would call the rental place and demand they send a replacement and give your money back.”

Her brows flew up. “I rented it in Salt Lake City.”

“So? They should still send a replacement.”

Gorgeous and take-charge. She liked this “Sly” more and more with every second.

“I’d call, but my phone’s battery died too,” she went on.

“Do you have a charger?”

Other than the electricity that zinged between them? He
still
had his arm around her.

“In my bag,” she answered.

“So if you rented this car in Salt Lake and you have bags in the car, I guess you’re staying at the hotel?”

“Right on your first guess.” She smiled in spite of everything.

“Come on.” He let her go at last, and it was almost like a soundtrack of disappointed moans played in the background of her mind. “I’ll walk you over to the hotel.”

“Really?” She blinked.

He laughed, sending even more warn tendrils of deliciousness swimming through her. “Of course. I’ll carry your bag. You gonna be all right walking with one heel?” He nodded down to her feet.

Rachel jumped into action, walking awkwardly around to the trunk of the car. “I’ve got a pair of flip-flops in the bag.”

She popped open the trunk—at least that worked—and unzipped the front pocket of her business suitcase, pulling out the flip-flops. She dropped them to the ground, then took off her heels, throwing them in the trunk. As Sly lifted out her suitcase, she slipped into the flip-flops, then closed the trunk. The two of them started down the lazy street toward the tall, new-looking hotel.

“It’s not much of a walk,” Sly said.

“Too bad,” Rachel mumbled.

She had the feeling he’d heard her when a charming grin broke out on his face. A blush burned hot on her cheeks.

“Nothing in Culpepper is too far from anything else,” he went on.

“You live here?” He didn’t look like he fit in.

“I do.” He laughed as though he knew what she’d been thinking. “I just moved back a few months ago after living elsewhere for a decade. I grew up here.”

“Must be nice,” she said, then clarified, “to be able to move back home after seeing the world.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, drawing her in even more. It would also be nice to have a handsome face and pair of strong arms like that to come home to every night. Yummy.

“I made some money out there in the world,” he went on, “and now I have plans for improvements to the town.”

“Improvements?”

“Bringing in new businesses and the like. That’s what I do,” he added. “I flip towns.”

“Flip towns?” Something about the statement tickled a nerve, and not a particularly good one.

“I consult with town governments and councils and help them see where they can maximize their profits and improve their offerings.”

“Sounds exciting.” And it sounded like he was better at what he did than she could ever hope to be about her own business. Korpanty Enterprises was too close to falling apart for her comfort, and if this bozo who was suing her—suing her!—succeeded in his nefarious plan, she’d be utterly destroyed.

“It’s been interesting,” Sly said. “I’m happy to be able to give back to my community.”

“That’s nice and noble of you.” She smiled. It was a relief that there were good men in the world. Not like the head of Culpepper Holdings, the jerk who filed the lawsuit. If she ever got her hands on him, she would wrap those hands around his neck.

“You know what else I do that’s noble?” he asked.

“What?” He was bantering with her, and she liked it. A lot.

“I rescue damsels in distress.”

Rachel laughed. She also saw visions of herself being swept out of the top of a tall tower and carried away to a magnificent castle…with a magnificent bed…

“So what do you say?” Sly went on.

“To what?”

He shrugged, suddenly modest. “How about you and I get together later for a rescue supper? The diner where your P.O.S. rental is parked actually serves a mean burger.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she answered, faster than she should have. Having dinner with strangers wasn’t on her agenda. Nothing was on her agenda but reading the riot act to the loser who was on the verge of destroying everything she’d been working toward for the last ten years and more. But she supposed she had to eat.

They reached the hotel, and with her suitcase in one hand, Sly still managed to hold the door for her.

“Thank you.” She nodded, giving him a fun, sultry look that she hadn’t even tried to use on anyone since college.

He responded with a flush that said she’d raised his blood-pressure just the way she’d intended. Man, Sly was hot and noble, and he responded to her flirting just the way she wanted him to. She was a very good girl, as far as girls from L.A. with her background went, but she’d definitely consider a little bit of naughtiness with this hunk of man.

“Ah, Mr. O’Donnell. Nice to see you in here today.”

Rachel’s head whipped around at the greeting from the hotel clerk behind the reception desk. Not for her, for Sly. Cracks formed in the edges of her sexy mood.

“Hey, Brian.” Sly nodded to the clerk. “Do you have a reservation for a Miss Rachel—” He raised his voice at the end of the question.

Rachel swallowed. Mr. O’Donnell. Someone by the last name of O’Donnell was the CEO of Culpepper Holdings. She’d seen the paperwork. “S. O’Donnell.” Her lawyer had mentioned something about that O’Donnell recently having moved back to Culpepper after operating another company, O’Donnell Management, out of San Francisco. Too many dots connected.

She cleared her throat and said in a hoarse voice, “Rachel Korpanty.”

Sly’s grin fell away. His eyes grew wider. The flush on his cheeks burned redder.

“Miss Korpanty, if I could just see your license and the credit card you made your reservation with,” Brian the clerk said.

Rachel couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She’d just accepted a dinner invitation from the man who was about to ruin her life.

R
achel watched
as realization dawned on Sly. He shifted uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck. His wide eyes narrowed to a wince.

“Rachel Korpanty? Not from Korpanty Enterprises, by any chance.”

Something hot and prickly shot up Rachel’s spine. How dare the snake have the audacity to look…was that
bashful
he was trying to pull off?

And great googly-moogly, she was an absolute fool to find him so utterly sexy the way she did.

“That’s me.” She squared her shoulders and took a step toward him, going on the attack. “Korpanty Enterprises is the company my father started forty years ago. It’s the company that’s been at the center of my life for the past ten years, and it’s been my responsibility for the past five years since he died.”

“Oh, really?” Sly’s brow rose as if he was impressed.

Impressed? How dare he!

“And you are Mr. S. O’Donnell,” she went on, pointing a finger. She wished it was a dagger. “You’re the arrogant rat who thinks he can bring some frivolous lawsuit against me and try to ruin everything I’ve worked for my entire life.”

She reached him with her pointed finger, stabbing him in the chest. It would have been a much more powerful gesture if his pecs weren’t rock hard. Unwelcome shivers slithered through her.

Sly huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, about that lawsuit.” He attempted to loosen up into a charming slouch.

Again, Rachel’s gut did things she’d rather not think about. She fought hard against it, spinning that energy around to fight him.

“Don’t you try to sweet-talk me, buster. I’ve had men trying to pull that crap on me since I was a teenager. You’re nothing but a vicious, arrogant crook trying to scam me out of a business that means more to me than you can ever know.” Her voice cracked at the end and tears stung at her eyes.

No. She was not going to cry. Not now, not ever.

Sly’s clever pretense dropped as he studied her with sudden concern.

“Um, Miss Korpanty?” Brian the clerk asked. “Your license and credit card?”

For a few more fiery moments, Rachel stood with her eyes locked on Sly’s. She would stare him into a bubbling puddle of man juice if he thought she would be the first one to look away.

A heartbeat later, Sly cleared his throat and peeked at Brian out of the corner of his eyes. Ha! He’d looked away first. She’d won that contest.

The victory felt hollow. With a sigh, she stomped up to the desk and handed her license and credit card over to Brian. She’d never really been competitive anyhow. Not at heart. It was a skill she’d had to learn to keep what little she had.

Sly sidled close to her side. “The thing about the lawsuit—”

Rachel held up her hand like a wall, stopping him in his tracks. Sly snapped his mouth shut and took a step back, thrusting his hands in his pockets. At least he got points for respecting her command to shut the heck up for a second.

“There you go, Miss Korpanty.” Brian smiled as though a battle royale wasn’t taking place right in front of him. “I’ve put you in room 345. A complimentary continental breakfast is served in the lobby from 6am until 10am. We have a selection of brochures telling you about—”

“Yeah, yeah, Brian. I’ll take it from here,” Sly interrupted.

Rachel’s eyes and nostrils flared wide. Okay, so maybe he didn’t get points for respect after all.

“Enjoy your stay.” Brian grinned.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Sly nodded to Brian, then picked up Rachel’s suitcase with one hand and closed the other around her elbow.

He led her halfway across the lobby toward the elevators before Rachel had the presence of mind to shake him off.

“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Give me my suitcase and go away.”

Sly shook his head, but let her go, stopping where they were next to a potted plant. “Let me explain about the lawsuit.”

Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes. “Why should I? It’s pretty clear what you’re doing to me.”

“Is it?” His brow lifted with genuine curiosity.

“Yes. You see a successful company and since it’s run by a woman, you can’t stand to let it continue to be successful.”

“Actually, that wasn’t what I—”

“Well, I’ve got news for you, buster. Korpanty Enterprises isn’t as successful as you think it is.” Much to her horror, her voice faltered at the end of her statement. She hadn’t meant to spill that particular can of worms so fast.

Sly’s expression pinched to a confused frown. “Your second quarter profits were up. That campaign you did with the underwear models here a few winters ago was a huge success.”

“Yeah, and do you know how much it cost us?” She shook her head. The conversation wasn’t going anywhere near where she wanted it to go. “I’ve worked for years to establish a company that values integrity and takes care of its employees. That includes using sustainable products in our underwear lines, manufacturing in America, and providing family leave to all employees, female and male. Those models weren’t contractors, they were employees of the company. And when almost all of them went on paternity leave at the same time, it severely depleted our funds.”

A faint smile grew on Sly’s face as she ranted. “You granted paternity leave to those guys when we had that baby boom?”

Rachel crossed her arms tightly, not sure if she should feel proud or defensive. “Yes.”

“I knew all of your underwear was made in the U.S.A.,” he went on, “but I didn’t realize you use sustainable materials.”

She chewed her words, grumpy that she was having this conversation and more grumpy that Sly seemed impressed with her when she just wanted to murder him. “Yes,” she spit at last. “But all that is about to go out the window because of you.”

Sly shifted his weight, watching her with a frown of concern…like he actually cared. But how could he when he was the one about to bring her down?

“What’s wrong with the company? It seems like a great business model to me.”

How had she gotten into this mess? The very last thing she wanted to do was tell Sly anything…and at the same time, she wanted to tell him everything.

With an irritated sigh, she gestured for him to follow her to a cluster of cushy chairs in the corner of the lobby. She didn’t wait for him before plopping into a seat. He was quick to join her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs to listen to her.

“My father started the company,” she explained, kicking herself for telling him anything. “It wasn’t the only company he started. He didn’t even give as much time to it as he should have. I was still in college when I started more or less running the thing.”

Sly nodded to show he was listening, but he didn’t interrupt her.

“Dad died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She shook her head. “I have mixed feelings about that, particularly since he died,” she cleared her throat, “in the bed of someone who wasn’t his wife, my step-mother.”

“Yikes.” Sly made a face.

“Anyhow, I was certain Korpanty Enterprises would finally be mine, that the training wheels would be off and I could make the company what I wanted it to be.”

“But?”

“But Dad’s will turned out to be…” She sighed. “I have a younger half-sister, Bev.”

Sly blinked at the abrupt change in the direction of the conversation. “Okay.”

“No, not okay. Bev takes after her mother, who my dad met in Vegas after a show she was in.”

“Not Shakespeare, I take it.”

“Not unless it was
As You Like It
.”

“Ah.” The corner of his mouth twitched. She would have found it funny too if it wasn’t her life.

“Bev likes shopping. She likes parties and yachts and fast cars. She spent more on her boobs than I did on college. She’s allergic to work.”

Sly arched a disapproving eyebrow. “So what does this have to do with Korpanty Enterprises?”

“Dad made her part owner,” she answered through clenched teeth. “Bev never did a day’s work in her life, but he gave her half of
my
company when he died.”

“Why would he do that?”

Rachel’s jaw hardened even more. “Because he knew she liked underwear. And underwear models.”

Sly laughed. The sound was a little too free, so Rachel scowled at him. Sly’s laughter abruptly faded, then stopped.

“Wait, you’re serious.”

“As a judge,” Rachel replied.

Sly blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face.

“It gets worse,” she went on before he could say anything more.

He stopped mid face-rub, arching one dark brow.

“My father put provisions in the will. I shouldn’t say that Bev owns half the company. She actually owns forty-nine percent and I own fifty-one.”

“So you can run things the way you want.” Sly sat a little straighter.

“For now. Dad being Dad, and Bev being his obvious favorite, the will explicitly states that if I am unable to make a success of the business on my own, if after five years’ profits fall to below the level they were when Dad died, Bev gets two of my percentage points.”

It took a minute for the full impact of what she’d said to sink in, but as soon as it did, Sly’s expression darkened. “So she would have the majority ownership of Korpanty Enterprises.”

“Yep.” She sat back and crossed her arms, trying not to look like a pouty teenager but failing miserably. As far as she was concerned, she had excellent reason to be pissed off. And why was she telling all this to the man who was about to ruin her anyhow? She couldn’t stand him. He was the devil incarnate, the source of half her problems, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Even if he was scintillatingly hot.

His brow remained knit in thought for a long time. At last, he took a breath, his expression lifting. “Well, the good news for you is that I have no intention of winning the lawsuit.”

“That is not good news,” Rachel growled, arms still crossed.

“Sure it is.” He brightened to a salesman’s smile. “You won’t have to pay anything out to me and there won’t be any sort of a settlement. On top of that, the suit will bring publicity not only to Culpepper, but to your brand as well. The way I see it, this could be a golden opportunity for both of us.”

She stared at him, debating punching him in the nose right then and there.

“My father passed away four years and nine months ago,” she said at last, deadpan. “I’m barely breaking even right now. Legal fees alone are going to kill Korpanty Enterprises’ profits. Thanks to you and your
brilliant
publicity scheme, I’ve basically already lost my company.”

* * *

T
he last time
Sly had felt the creeping sensation that itched up his spine and formed a knot his stomach was when he was six and had the brilliant idea of making his mom a hand-painted scarf for her birthday. He’d listened to her raving about the scarf a character on TV was wearing and was certain he could make her blissfully happy by duplicating it. So he’d found a piece of white, silky material in the attic, broke open his poster paints, and gone to town making the most brilliant scarf the world had ever known.

Except that piece of white, silky material had come from his mom’s wedding dress. He’d cut the skirt to shreds to get just the right length of silk. His mom’s smile when she opened his ill-fated gift had changed into tears of rage when she saw the remains of her wedding dress. She and his dad both had yelled at him for a solid hour, then grounded him for a month. Not that a six-year-old had anywhere to go, really. It was the sting of having so much anger directed at something he’d done hoping to make his mom happy that he’d never recovered from.

He inched forward on his seat, leaning toward Rachel.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know the circumstances behind your company.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes up to look at something on the ceiling. Somehow she managed to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even with that look. His heart twisted in his chest.

“We can figure out a way around this,” he went on.

She arched a brow and stared bullets at him. “You want to find a way around ruining my life?”

He shook his head, holding up her hands in a gesture designed to ease her to patience. “I swear to you, this lawsuit isn’t designed to hurt you or Korpanty Enterprises at all. It’s designed to boost the visibility of Culpepper.”

She snorted.

“No, I mean it.” She had been open and emotional with him, so the least he could do was return the favor. “I care about this town more than you can imagine.”

Her lips remained pressed shut, but the spark in her eyes ordered him to go on.

He kind of liked a woman who would order him around. “This is my hometown. Our family’s ranch is about half an hour down a lazy country road, surrounded by nothing but cows and windmills, maybe a few fossils, but Culpepper is the heart of it all. I came home because I wanted to give back to the community that did so much for me growing up.”

“Nice sentiments,” she said, jaw tight. “But you have a terrible way of going about it.”

He shrugged, not quite willing to concede that point. He still thought his ideas were basically good ones. “I’ve spent the last ten years helping similar towns all across California improve their infrastructure and appeal to tourism and industry. Culpepper needs the same thing. It’s a great little town, and I want to put it on the map. You have to believe me when I say that everything I’ve done so far is designed to help far, far more people than just myself.”