Taking Home the Tycoon (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 9)
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Tall snowcapped peaks stood as sentinels, providing a backdrop for Seattle that seemed, to Natalie’s eyes, magical. The jutting mountains and deep green pines bit into the clear blue sky. An impossible blue rendered crisper from the cool weather in the Pacific Northwest. She had no doubt she would experience Seattle’s infamous gray skies, but for now, in the moment of her arrival, the sky stretched before her. Endless possibilities.
Or perhaps that more accurately described her feelings about this trip.
She hoped her time here could help reassure her of ways she and Max could be together, ways they could blend their two very different lifestyles.
She vacillated between hopelessness and total optimism and back again, over and over. Perhaps because she’d had t
oo much time to think while traveling on her own. Max had flown out early on a chartered jet because of a work emergency while Natalie had settled her children, and tried hard not to chicken out over flying on his private jet.
At least no one had outright questioned her. The knowledge in their eyes was clear, though. Gossip spread like wildfire in a small town. Everyone in Royal had known she was dating Max, so she gave up trying to keep their relationship quiet.
Both the town and her B and B were abuzz with her news. Even her friend Brandee had called the trip “serious.”
Settling deeper into the limo’s leather seat, she bristled at the word serious, turning the weight of the word over in her mind. Natalie’s heart was still heavy from the loss of her husband and the marriage that had started to fray. Her children at least seemed to accept that Max was a “friend.”
Her eyes flicked from the mountains to the buildings, noting the way bookstores, tech companies, music venues and coffee shops pressed into each other. It was a spread of literary and tech culture merging together.
Undeniably beautiful. A place she could enjoy visiting...but living here? She shook off the thought. She needed to be in the moment and not make decisions quickly either way.
Fluffing her scarf around her neck, she caught a glance of her reflection in the dark window of the limo Max had arranged to be waiting for her when the flight landed. Her skin glowed brighter—the result of some serious pampering at a spa. Much needed, she’d realized, during the massage.
Her dear new friends—Brandee and Emily—absolutely insisted on treating her to a spa day. They said she worked too hard, spent too much energy on everyone else. “Where is that attention to you?” Emily had asked, her brows arched heavenward. When Natalie didn’t respond, they had arranged for a sitter and whisked her away to the day spa for relaxation.
And a makeover.
Her friends had recruited fellow TCC member Naomi Price, a stylist with her own local TV show, who’d brought in racks and racks of incredible designer duds. They’d even commandeered Royal’s St. Tropez Salon. It had been a fun and magical experience. She would be lying to herself to think otherwise.
Gazing at the shadowed reflection in the window, she realized that her apprehension didn’t just stem from being whisked away to Seattle, or having so many people so publicly aware of her dating life. Those were factors, of course.
But the brimming tension in her tummy came from wondering what he’d make of her new haircut—the shorter strands of strawberry that framed her face called more attention to her green doe eyes.
She touched the silky strands that still seemed slightly chilled, despite the warmth of the limousine.
As Natalie surveyed the skyline, she smiled. Bold buildings—as bold as the mountains in the background—seemed to erupt into the sky. Nothing demure or subdued about this space.
It suited him, she thought to herself.
Much like the small B and B suited her and her children. How strange the way people took on the qualities of their geographies.
Natalie inhaled, absently drinking in the way couples huddled to each other in the cold weather. Texas had yet to become this chilly—it was still only late September. She wondered how her children were doing without her, even though she knew they were fine thanks to constant text updates and photos.
Margie had offered to watch the children while Natalie visited Max. Over these past few months, the dog trainer had become family—a mother she didn’t have. A mother she self-selected. There were no words to convey her level of appreciation for that, or for how wonderful she was with both of Natalie’s kids, especially with Colby. Margie even offered to stay at the B and B, which would be the least disruptive to Colby’s routine. And if anything were to go wrong overnight at the B and B, Margie could attend to that, as well.
Brandee, Emily and Max’s good friend Chels had offered to run the B and B in her absence. Her heart squeezed as she realized how lucky she was to have such friends in her life.
Small gestures were all she had ever had to offer. Small, intentional gestures. Natalie left Margie a fresh-baked casserole for breakfast, tons of fruit already sliced and diced and her to-die-for strudel. She’d also made Emily, Brandee and Chels strudel, as well. A small thank-you, but she’d poured her soul into the baking.
As they drew closer to the St. Cloud tower, her heart beat wildly, disrupting her normally steady demeanor. Shiny black glass dressed the spire in a dark elegance. Power seemed to cling to every aspect of the building, which was as mysterious and seductive as its owner.
The limo driver pulled up to the sidewalk, hopped out of the car to let Natalie out. Cold air caressed her cheeks, deepening the newly acquired blush—another result of Brandee and Emily’s makeover.
The driver helped her out of the car and handed off her luggage to the doorman, who ushered her inside, out of the wind.
Max lived in the penthouse. As the elevator rose, her heart sped up, butterflies returning to her stomach. She wondered as they passed the floors that housed his company what he’d be wearing, how he would react to her new look.
The door to the elevator opened with a ding. Her stomach turned with nerves.