Taking Home the Tycoon (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 9)

“Oh? Where are you two going?” Natalie asked, winding her hair around her fingers. Nervous habits died hard.

Her mother, Georgina, let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Clearwater Beach vacation. In Florida. We might as well.”

Not a word asking about how her grandchildren were doing. How she was doing. Not that she expected or needed it. But still...

“How’s Dad?” Natalie asked, hoping to talk to him. She seldom heard from her father on the phone.

“Just fine. Though we are about to have dinner out on the balcony. Hope you and the kids are well,” Georgina said tightly. She’d made it clear long ago that if Natalie wasn’t willing to do things their way, then she didn’t have their support.

As a mother, Natalie found that tougher and tougher to accept or understand.

“Well, enjoy your meal, then. We can speak another time. Bye, Mom. Love you and Dad.” She said it out of habit, but meant it even as she wished for more. God, was she destined to always be wishing for more from people who were supposed to be partners in this life journey—people like her parents, like Jeremy?

“Love you, too.”

And just like that, the connection went dead, leaving Natalie feeling hollow and raw.

Lord knew that hadn’t been their worst conversation. When Natalie had decided to move to Texas, the conversations were laced with distaste and annoyance.

But things hadn’t warmed up between her and her mother. The connection between them felt strained. It always had. So different than the connection she felt with her own children.

The tendrils of anxiety inched around her heart. Restlessness entered her limbs, and she found herself walking back up the stairs, past the couple watching movies, toward her kids’ rooms. The lights were still out in Colby’s and Lexie’s respective rooms. She laid a hand on Colby’s door and took a deep breath, vowing to always be there for her children.

As she turned, the glow from underneath Max’s door caught her attention.

He was still awake. Still up. And yes, from the rustling sound inside, he was still here.

The prospect excited her. And while life hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped or given her what she might have always wanted, she couldn’t control what others did or felt. She only had control of her own decisions and actions. In this exact moment, she knew what she wanted.

She wanted something just for herself.

She wanted to sleep with Max St. Cloud.

Six

His eyes strained while he reviewed the code sprawling on the laptop screen in front of him.

Dissatisfied with the machine language, Max shifted his laptop to the edge of the bed. His hand reached blindly to the wooden end table, and he felt around for the mason jar full of sweet tea. Not exactly a protein shake—his normal ritual—but apparently sweet temptation abounded everywhere here in all forms.

A few hours ago, he’d left the room, needing movement to rejuvenate his senses. As far as the case went, he knew a piece of information escaped him.

That frustrated him. Rather than spend a few hours falling through rabbit holes, Max had changed his environment. Foot-to-pavement time always allowed him to clear his head. Or at least it had.

Every stride he took looped his mind back to Natalie. And while he didn’t actively think about the case, he did think about the smile of appreciation she’d given him earlier over pancakes and crepes.

He’d run harder than usual. As if running would not only reveal the origin of the cyberattacker, but also reveal a way for Max to proceed with Natalie.

The postrun shower renewed him. Max had felt ready to dive back into this work. Ready for a break in the case. He needed it, really.

But the backdoor code analysis hadn’t revealed anything useful. He blinked, sipping the tea, noting how the cool liquid soothed his throat. Satisfied, he set the tea back on the end table next to the fresh-cut flowers from the yard, a nice touch that Natalie made all around the B and B.

Amazing how often she slid into his thoughts.

Time for another change of scene. He made his way to the desk, leaned against the plush chair. A new angle—one that focused on the members of TCC.

Max ran a hand through his hair, sighed deeply. On the edge of his four-poster bed, just to the left of where he’d placed his laptop, a large spread of papers loomed. He picked up the stack and the laptop, made his way back to the main workstation and settled into the chair.

Ready.