The Lost Tycoon Read online

  Was he saying she could be a reason? It had to be the alcohol buzz in her head, because there was no way a man would change his plans for her. She just wasn’t the type of woman for whom men would jump through hoops. If only…

  “Then there’s my grandmother,” Bryson said with a groan.

  “Is she okay?” Misty asked, making both Camden and Bryson laugh. “I don’t get it.”

  “Sorry. You’d have to meet the woman. She’s in her late sixties, I think. Well, I can’t get anyone to tell me her actual age, but whatever age she is, it hasn’t slowed her down even the tiniest bit. The poor sheriff has even had to arrest her and her best friend, Bethel, for disturbing the peace.”

  “Really?” Misty really, really wanted to meet this woman.

  “Yes, really,” Camden said. “The poor sheriff is seventy now, and he gave both ladies a stern lecture, but they didn’t care. They’re recapturing their youth or something.”

  “Yeah, I was surprised Cam’s dad wasn’t with them as a partner in crime. The three are pretty close,” Bryson added.

  “Your grandma and his dad?” Misty was more confused.

  “Yeah, my dad is older,” Cam said, “and Bryson’s grandma had his mom when she was quite young, so they’re close in age.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t saying anything bad…”

  “Don’t worry. We didn’t take it that way,” Camden reassured her.

  “Do your parents get upset when things like that happen? The arrest, I mean.” Misty found it so nice to sit back and hear about their families. Jealousy was sitting there with her, but not the ugly kind. She just wondered what it would have been like to have her own stories like this to tell.

  “Hell, no,” Bryson replied. “They think it’s great that grandma is having fun. The more she lives life, the longer she’ll be in this world. I wouldn’t be surprised if my parents join the terrible trio in a few years.”

  “I think the sheriff will definitely retire if that happens,” Camden told them.

  “Considering he would never be able to draw his weapon in a shootout, that may be his wisest choice,” Bryson said.

  “Yeah, I don’t think Big Blue — his gun — has been shot in over twenty years,” Cam said.

  “I’m sure there are cobwebs in the barrel, maybe even a few spiders’ nests.”

  The men continued to banter back and forth until there was a tapping noise from the microphone. Then someone spoke. “Good evening, everyone. I hope you don’t mind if I play a few songs.”

  The fork stopped halfway to Misty’s mouth, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head once she turned and looked up at the stage. Her heart was pounding.

  “Uh, Mis…Magnolia, are you okay?”

  She heard the words through a tunnel. This couldn’t be happening. Things like this didn’t happen to her. Not her. This kind of thing was for lucky people.

  “Are you choking, honey?” Alyssa was patting her back.

  “F…fi…fine,” Misty managed to stutter.

  “Aw, don’t worry, boys. She’s just a bit starstruck. It happens to the best of us.” Alyssa laughed and walked away.

  Misty barely heard her.

  She also didn’t notice the tilting of Bryson’s eyes as he gazed at her, not entirely amused at her complete absorption with the stage.

  “I can make anybody pretty…” Brad Paisley began singing his hit song “Alcohol,” and Misty didn’t hear another word from her male companions. She was fully focused on Paisley as he ran smoothly through a couple of songs. Alyssa set down Misty’s meal, and it went untouched.

  When Brad jumped into “Two People Fell in Love,” Misty sighed. All the trauma from her deposition earlier in the day was forgotten as she drank in one of her all-time favorite singers. When he began a guitar solo, she just leaned back and enjoyed.

  “Thanks, all. I’m going to try that meat loaf now,” Brad called out through the microphone, then hopped down from the stage, and Misty’s eyes grew round as he made his way to their table.

  “Hi, Camden, Bryson. It’s been a while.” The singer pulled out a chair and turned it around before he sat, leaning against the back of it.

  “Yes, it has been. It’s good to see you. How are the wife and kids?” Camden asked, after they all shook hands.

  “Kim and the boys are great. I’m on my way home tonight and had to stop in here. This tour is kicking my ass. I’m definitely missing the family.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t know how that is, since I don’t have any rug rats waking me at six in the morning,” Camden said with a laugh. “Oh, this is our friend, Magnolia.”

  “Good to meet you, Magnolia. You have a beautiful name,” Brad said, sticking out his hand.

  She didn’t know how she did it, but her arm magically lifted and then her fingers were encased in his. “H…hi,” she managed to say without too much of a stutter. She was sitting at the same table with Brad Paisley! She’d just been introduced to him! They’d shaken hands! And everyone was treating it as if it were no big deal.

  “Here’s your food, Brad,” Alyssa said, and she handed him a bag.

  “Thanks, gorgeous.” The star took the bag and then stood. “Hope to see you boys again soon. You keep promising to come out in the summer.”

  “Hey, the invite goes both ways, Brad.” Bryson said.

  “Aw, hell, Bryson, your daddy just wants me down here so his ornery horse can buck me off again.”

  “Coward,” Camden said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  And then Misty just sat and stared as he walked from the room. She could now die and say she’d lived her dreams.

  “Are you still in there, sweetie?” Alyssa asked with a knowing laugh.

  “I…wow,” Misty said.

  “Don’t worry, darling. I had the same reaction the first dozen times Brad and a few others walked through those doors. Now, I’m used to it. What you have to remember is they’re just like you and me,” she said before pausing. “Okay, maybe not just like us. He does have one killer ass.”

  “Thanks, Alyssa,” Bryson practically growled. The last thing he wanted Misty thinking about was another man’s ass.

  “No problem, sugar,” she said with a wink. “Here are some boxes for your leftovers, which looks like Misty’s entire meal. I don’t think I ate at all the night Blake Shelton came in. I actually cried when he got married.”

  “Aren’t you just so helpful,” Bryson said with a glare.

  “I do what I can,” she told him before sashaying away.

  “Are you ready?” Camden asked, a persistent smirk attached to his face.

  Without another word, Misty stood up, gathered her belongings and moved toward the door. This night had been…fun. She hadn’t expected to enjoy herself, hadn’t expected to have a good time. She’d assumed that she’d just be sitting there listening to the two friends talk.

  Not having fun didn’t bother her — it was the story of her life. And when she didn’t expect anything good, her hopes were never dashed.

  But she had ended up having one of the best nights of her life. Oh, who was she fooling? Certainly not herself. It had been the best night of her life. She floated back to the car.

  The drive back to the hotel was punctuated with very little conversation. Camden turned on the radio and she sat back and absorbed the lyrics. Music had always been a solace for her, a way to sink into another world. She could pretend she was the woman the singer was speaking so fondly about, or she was the hero who got to win the day. She could be anyone she wanted to be through music or books.

  It was an escape — a desperately needed escape.

  When they arrived at the hotel, she clambered out of the SUV quickly before Bryson could open her door for her. She’d be able to take the gentlemanly thing for only so long before she ended up in a heap at his feet. He walked her silently to her door.

  She took out her key card. “You don’t need to walk me here. I’m fine.”


  “I just want to make sure the room is all clear,” he said, giving her barely nine inches of personal space.

  “No one knows where I am,” she said as the door opened.

  He stepped inside. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “But you’re going to make Camden wait. Aren’t you going back to his place?”

  “No. I’m staying right next door.” His words gave her all sorts of new butterflies. They were going to be only a wall apart. Eeek!

  “All clear,” she said, her voice high.

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed, suddenly far too close, his body heat seeming to radiate right on up to her and then begin a low-pressure tornado, growing hotter and hotter each time it swirled around her form.

  Oh, my, he smelled good. The only men’s cologne she could recall before this night was Jesse’s, and it had made her gag. Whatever Bryson was wearing was spicy and woodsy and pure male.

  “I should leave now,” he said, but he leaned just a little closer.

  Oh, she wanted the kiss, wanted to close the distance between them more than she wanted her next breath — more than she wanted to wake up the next morning.

  What were they talking about again? Misty was at a complete loss. “Yes…it’s…been a…uh…nice night.”

  “You are testing every good intention I’ve ever had,” Bryson told her as he cupped her cheek in the palm of his large hand.

  She didn’t know what he meant by that and she certainly couldn’t speak and ask him to clarify. They stood motionless for several drawn-out seconds, just looking into each other’s eyes. It was the most intimate moment she’d ever had, and she felt things building inside her that she couldn’t even describe.

  “This case needs to end,” he muttered. He released her face and took a step back, then a few more.

  Without another word, he walked out through her door, securely shutting it behind him. Misty staggered a couple of steps backward, then sagged onto her bed, thankful it was there to catch her. Seeing the covers beneath her brought to reality how close a bed had been to the two of them while Bryson had been looking deep into her eyes. Would she have protested if he’d leaned in and kissed her, if he had lifted his hands and…?

  She doubted it. And that was more frightening than any other thought she’d had the whole evening.

  Chapter Ten

  A full night in bed did the body good. At least that’s what Bryson was desperately trying to convince himself of. And so what if he’d barely slept? A full day lay ahead of him, and he had a job to do. Today, the job was to get Misty back to her temporary home in California, and then he had a desk full of paperwork that his supervisor had piled on with glee.

  With the way things were progressing, the case would be ready for trial soon. Jesse Marcus would be behind bars, and Misty would be truly safe for the first time in…well, maybe since the moment she was left at that fire station.

  Once this was all over, the two of them could both go back to their regular lives.

  The biggest problem with that was that he couldn’t quit thinking about her — couldn’t stop fantasizing was more like it. He’d been in charge of plenty of witnesses before, several of them beautiful and single, women who had thrown a lot of signals his way.

  He’d never been tempted to risk his job over any of them, tempted to risk his own ethics. There was a reason agents didn’t sleep with witnesses. It tainted their testimony. What if they suddenly said the agent was bribing them? What if it ruined their character? No lustful deed ever went unpunished. Besides, it just wasn’t right to have sex with them. Each one was there to be protected, not taken advantage of, even if they were the ones pushing for a romp in the bedroom.

  Misty was different, though, he tried to tell himself. But, then again, isn’t that what all the people who crossed the line used as rationalization? She was special. It was meaningful. Gah. He was driving himself insane.

  Maybe it was because he felt some alien emotional connection to her. It had to be a need to fix her broken heart. No, he didn’t mean heart. He meant her broken spirit. Yes, that was it; it was just a desire to fix her. Damn! He was now spouting poetry in his own head. This was ridiculous.

  Yes, he wanted to protect her, and yes, he wanted to mend her shattered heart, her shattered soul, but it wasn’t because she was just anyone. It wasn’t because she was his job.

  The bottom line was that he was just making excuses to himself to feel less guilty when… no…if he took her to bed.

  Nonsense. He was a special agent, a professional. He wasn’t tempted at all.

  He was also a moron, because of course he was tempted. What he really wanted to do was peel her clothes away, touch her the way a woman should be touched. Not with intent to hurt, not with a desire to overpower, but with compassion and passion — with a need to please.

  So tempted.

  “Get a clue,” Bryson said to the mirror as he looked at himself in disgust.

  “And now I’m talking to myself. Maybe I should see a shrink.”

  He shook his head and frowned. He was beginning not even to recognize himself. He’d never before felt so on edge, so out of control.

  Walking from the motel room, he leaned up against the railing on the front balcony and waited for Misty to emerge from her room. He was early, but he hadn’t wanted there to be any chance of her having to wait for him. He knew she wouldn’t knock on his door. Besides, he was eager to go home. He had a few things he needed to check on.

  There was a lot to do and he’d feel safer once she was tucked back into her place in California. It was guarded — not as heavily as he’d like, but a U.S. marshal went by — and he’d insisted that Axel go in about half an hour before their return to ensure that no malefactor had forced an entry while they were gone.

  Axel had laughed at him, telling him that either he was becoming paranoid in his old age, or that he was so far over the edge for this woman that he might as well give it up now and haul her to a preacher.

  Axel was wrong. He couldn’t fall for a woman this fast. It was just infatuation. It was like being a child at the candy shop, and really wanting the red sucker, but your mother wouldn’t let you have it. That’s all this was — Misty was the red lollipop. Okay, and he was the sucker.

  When her door opened, she stepped out wearing a pair of leggings and tugging at a red sweater. Nothing fancy, but those clothes made his mouth go dry. Because she was in them. It didn’t matter what she wore. She looked astounding in anything, whether it was a skirt and blouse, or jeans and a T-shirt. He wouldn’t mind seeing what she looked like with nothing on at all. Then he could make a more accurate judgment.

  No. He couldn’t be thinking that kind of thought right now.

  “Morning,” he drawled, taking satisfaction when she jumped and spun around.

  It wasn’t fear in her eyes. It was worry, the same worry he felt. At least they were both confused by this growing attraction between the two of them.

  “You startled me,” she said, lifting her hand to her chest and rubbing.

  Great! Now his eyes were focused on the luscious curves the sweater wasn’t doing much to hide. As if sensing that what she was doing was only making the situation more strained, she immediately dropped her hand.

  “Sorry about that, Misty.” For startling her, or for staring at her? He didn’t know what he was sorry for. For everything, probably. “Are you all ready to go?” He moved away from the railing and snatched up the one bag she’d brought with her.

  “Yes. I can get that,” she said, but he grabbed it anyway.

  Why did a woman make it so damned difficult for a man to carry her bags? His father would beat him blind if he stepped around the corner and saw Bryson’s hands empty while she was lugging a suitcase, even if it was a small one.

  The two of them walked slowly down the steps to the parking lot, where a car was waiting to take them to the airport. During the drive, both of them were silent. Bryson didn’t know what she was feeling, but he was uptight
and anxious, ready to explode if he didn’t get something figured out soon, and he thought it best if he just kept his mouth shut. When his phone rang, he was more than grateful to take the call instead of sitting there inhaling her scent with thoughts of pulling her across his lap.

  With the way he was behaving, he wasn’t that much better than her abusive ex right now. Bryson had worked too long and was far too professional to act this way. If he didn’t get himself under control, he would have no choice but to resign from this case — and that was something he’d never before had to do.

  He was still on the phone when they arrived at the airport, but he ended the call and collected her suitcase. There was a delay on their flight, and when they finally got on the plane, they ended up sitting in separate rows, her in front of him. As irritated as Bryson was about that, he thought it might actually be better for all concerned, considering the mood he was in.

  Leaning back against his seat, he was surprised to feel his eyes grow heavy. He didn’t sleep on planes, not usually, anyway.

  Chapter Eleven

  Somehow she’d done something to upset Bryson. That could be the only explanation for why he hadn’t spoken more than two words to her since they’d left Montana. She just couldn’t figure out what was wrong — or, more specifically, what she’d done wrong.

  Maybe he was disgusted with her now. First, he’d had to listen to her testimony about Jesse and the things she’d allowed that vile man to do to her, and then she’d ogled Brad Paisley. She’d be disgusted with herself if she weren’t still starstruck. But it would explain why Bryson wasn’t speaking to her.

  Up to this point he’d been so kind, so charming, so comforting, but she’d long realized that it was probably all part of his job — keep the witness happy, secure, and ready to testify.