The Lost Tycoon (Baby for the Billionaire #5)(29)
Author: Melody Anne

“I think I have it covered. I have one of those long-handled brushes,” she said, but her breathing had deepened. Their little wordplay was affecting her as much as it was him.

“One word is all it will take, and I’ll be at your door in less than ten minutes.” Bryson wanted to kick himself for his weakness, but he was unable to take his offer back.

As he heard her breath whoosh in loudly on the other end of the line, his heart thundered. What would she decide? If he went there, he had no doubt they’d end up in her bed.

He’d worked long enough — early retirement was good, wasn’t it? That’s how badly he wanted her. Badly enough to risk the career he’d been building. Badly enough to throw it all away for one night with her.

Bryson somehow knew it wouldn’t only be one night, though — he knew that once he sank inside her hot folds, he wouldn’t be the same ever again. Even if he was thinking with his hormones, even though his brain was trying to put the brakes on, none of that mattered.

Logic wasn’t possible in this situation.

He didn’t know how long the silence stretched out, but he eventually heard a sigh, and his groin jumped.

“It wouldn’t be wise, Bryson. There’s just…too much in the way,” she said, but he heard clear regret in her voice.

His body was going to be aching for another night, at least. Sure, he could talk her out of this — could change her mind. If he showed up, he knew she’d let him in. But then she might hate him the next day and assign him to the same miserable category as Jesse. A night of pleasure wasn’t worth that.

“Goodnight, Misty,” he whispered, thinking it was time for a ten-mile jog. Maybe he’d just extend that to a marathon.

“Goodnight, Bryson.”

He held the phone for several moments after she hung up, his fingers clasped so tightly around the device, it was a wonder it didn’t break.

Finally he set it down, then went to his bedroom and changed. He was just going to run until he passed out. That seemed the only logical solution.

Chapter Thirteen

A car stopped outside her house, and Misty’s knuckles turned white as she clutched the sides of the kitchen chair. Who would be out in this weather? She’d pulled the blinds down — storms made her even jumpier than she usually was — so when she heard footsteps outside her window, she had no idea who it might be. It couldn’t be Bryson. He was gone, out of town. And though she knew it was silly, she felt vulnerable, unprotected.

The steps stopped and there was a knock on her door.

She was frozen to her seat, barely able to move.

This could be it. Why had she been so stupid? Her cell phone was sitting there useless, completely out of juice, and the storm had knocked out the landlines. She had no way of dialing emergency services — no way of asking for help.

Calm down. It was probably the guy down the street with the little dog. He’d come by once before to ask if she had dog food. He’d run out and wasn’t going to make it to the store till the next day. Why would he have thought she’d have dog food when she didn’t have a dog? Maybe this time, he needed some milk for his cats.

“Misty? Misty Elton?”

Her head snapped upward. It wasn’t the guy down the street. And this wasn’t an FBI agent or a U.S. marshal. They wouldn’t have used her real name. With a thundering heart, she grabbed a large kitchen knife and approached the door. There was no more running — she was through with it.

*****

“How in the hell did he get her address!” Bryson was nearly panicked as he yelled into his cellular phone. “No one has that authorization!”

“Listen, I’m just telling you what I know,” Axel said, for once somewhat subdued. They’d been blindsided. “The man has connections. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Does she know yet?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid she does. She’s been told.”

“She must be a total wreck! I want to be there for her right this minute, but I’m at least an hour away,” he shouted again, almost feeling bad about taking his mood out on Axel.

“Just get there,” Axel told him.

“I will!” He hung up and pushed his car up to a hundred miles an hour. If something happened to Misty, it would be all his fault, and he would never forgive himself. Never!

Going as fast as he could in the storm that was brewing from Misty’s direction, he drove frantically down the dark freeway. Every mile he came closer to her, the wind picked up.

The road stretched on endlessly, and forty-five minutes later, his heart thundering, Bryson pulled up to Misty’s house and jumped from his vehicle when it had barely come to a stop. After rushing up the walkway, he hesitated when he reached the door, listening for any sounds.

The power was out and he could see only the flicker of candlelight through the windows. Hearing no sound was more worrisome than if he’d heard something.

The curtain fluttered and he knew someone had peeked out at him. He waited, his body tense. How was she? What was her reaction?

His heart raced as he waited. It had been a week since he’d seen her last, a few days since he’d learned about her family. Then Joseph, it seemed, had decided he’d spent enough time not knowing her, and he wanted to call on her, needed to speak to her. Joseph hadn’t even asked him first; the old man just rushed ahead, interfering — his characteristic modus operandi.

The door opened and Misty stood before him, her face pale, her eyes red from crying. This was worse than he’d thought.

“May I come in?” he asked warily, not sure what Joseph had told her — not sure if he was the last person she’d want to speak to again.

She opened the door wider without saying a word, and he stepped over the threshold, careful not to touch her yet. She looked fragile enough that one single movement might shatter her.

Following behind her as she walked into the kitchen and lit the burner on her stove top, he waited to see what she would say. At least the gas stove worked even during a power failure. It seemed to give her some form of reassurance to be doing something other than staring back at him in the semidarkness.

“This is a nasty storm,” he said, needing to break the silence.

“Yes. I lost power a little over an hour ago. When you pulled up, I’d just gotten the candles all lit so I can see around the house, now that it’s dark outside. Do you want tea? I need tea,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion as she set the kettle on top of the flame.