You Were Meant For Me Page 4

  He’d been desperate for more time with her and now, here she was. For one more week, at least. Mitch knew it wouldn’t be like their week abroad. They both had responsibilities and obligations that would keep them from spending every waking—and sleeping—minute together. But this was a chance to legitimately explore whether they could find a way to make their real worlds mesh. He’d be a fool to walk away from that.

  Brimming with fresh purpose, Mitch shifted directions, heading straight for the fountain that was the town’s namesake. Fed from nearby Hope Springs, the post-Civil War fountain was at the center of Norah’s rural tourism campaign that had helped breathe new life into the town’s economy. She’d capitalized on local lore that wishes made in the fountain actually came true. Mitch had half-assed some wishes over the years. Maybe that was why they’d never come true. Because he didn’t put the full force of belief and desire behind them. Well, he had the desire now.

  Digging a quarter out of his pocket, he clutched it tight, drawing up every iota of longing he’d felt from the moment he’d woken to find her gone. I wish for a real chance at a real relationship with Tess. The forever kind.

  He tossed the coin, hearing the decisive splash as it hit the water. Knuckle tapping the top of the basin wall, he turned and headed home to plan.

  Chapter 4

  Tess woke at four in the morning feeling fluish and hung over. Jet lag on a return trip from Europe always kicked her ass but not usually this bad. Maybe she still had a touch of food poisoning. Or maybe she was just emotionally wrung out after family dinner and seeing Mitch again. She tried to drift back to sleep and into the lovely dream she’d been having about that rainy day they’d spent in a B and B in Inverness but recognized it as a lost cause. For better or worse, her body thought it was ten and well past time to get up.

  Forcing herself out of bed, she pushed herself through some yoga. Half a dozen sun salutations later, she crawled into the shower. It was nearing five by the time she searched through the kitchenette for a kettle. Of course there wasn’t one. This was the U.S., where coffee ruled the day. Unable to face the pod coffee on her iffy stomach, and unwilling to suffer the indignities of pod tea—living in the UK had turned her into a tea snob—she called down to the front desk and requested boiling water. Room service didn’t actually open for an hour yet, but being the boss’s daughter had its perks.

  While she waited, she pulled out her laptop to check on things for work. There were some final details to tend to on the Picadilly project, things she’d go over with her staff during their video conference later. After she got some caffeine in her system. Then she’d finish prepping the pitch to her father about the greater role she wanted to take in the company in Denver. It wasn’t that she wanted to run things in his absence, though she’d enjoyed getting her teeth into a real challenge. But she wanted Peyton Consolidated to expand in a new direction. To not just work at building their own business but to nurture others. With the resources at their disposal, they could usher in a new wave of small businesses that would help bolster economies all over the U.S. It was a dream she’d discussed with no one except Mitch, and even then only in the most general terms. She had to prove herself capable before she brought the concept up to her father, and the Picadilly project would go a long way toward that.

  One step at a time.

  At the knock on the door, Tess thanked God for prompt and attentive staff.

  “I really appreciate...” She trailed off because it wasn’t room service at her door. “Mitch?”

  “Thank God, you’re awake. Can I come in?”

  Tess stepped back, staring as he walked past her. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” She couldn’t fathom why he’d show up at this ungodly hour if it wasn’t an emergency.

  “I didn’t sleep last night.” Restless energy rolled off him in waves as he paced a tight circuit around the room. “I was too busy thinking about you, about us. About this second chance we’ve been given.”

  “Second chance? I—”

  Mitch took her hands, squeezed. “Just hear me out. There’s something between us, Tess. We both wanted more in Scotland.”

  Her fingers clenched reflexively around his. It thrilled her to hear him confirm that, even as it terrified her.

  “Maybe we didn’t plan on it, but so the hell what?” With every word, he closed the distance between them. “We found each other in the big wide world, and even after we went our separate ways, against all odds, Fate threw us together again.”

  “In possibly the most awkward way possible,” she reminded him. Because his enthusiasm, his hope, was infectious, and she couldn’t risk allowing herself to believe in the fairy tale.

  “It’s not ideal. I get that.” He cupped her face. “But I can’t walk away from this. I can’t walk away from you.”

  Even as warmth pooled in her chest, Tess reached up, intending to pull his hand away, to be the voice of reason they needed. But she curled her fingers around his wrist instead, forging another link between them. “I’m not going to be here that long. Only a week.”

  The dimple winked. “Look how far we got in the first one.”

  More than halfway in love. Her heart teetered at the edge of the precipice just looking at him, every cell of her body wanting to lean into him with a resounding, “Yes!”

  In a desperate bid for sanity, she insisted, “It’s not the same. It’s not just us this time.”

  “So? Now’s our chance to figure out if we can make our real world lives mesh. We owe it to ourselves to explore this.”

  Her heart began to pound with a desperate, fearful hope.

  God, was that even a remote possibility? Did they have a chance in hell of finding a way to make this into something real and lasting? It terrified her how much she wanted that, how much she wanted to believe that they could make this work. If he’d been any other man, just a guy with no connection to her family, she wouldn’t be hesitating. But what if it didn’t work out? There was no question that it would break her heart. Could she really deal with the backlash of that every single time she came to visit her father? Was a week really enough time to figure any of this out?

  Mitch stroked his thumb along her cheek, a whisper of a touch that had her turning her face into him, chasing the warmth. “Maybe it’s not as much time as we want, but it’s still more. And I’ll take every minute with you I can get. Don’t say no, Tess.”

  Last night it had taken everything she had to talk herself out of this. To convince herself that keeping her distance was the responsible thing to do. But in the face of his plea—which felt a helluva lot like a declaration—she just…couldn’t. If that made her weak, she didn’t want to be strong. She just wanted this man in her life for however long she could have him, consequences be damned.

  She closed the distance between them, lifting to slant her mouth over his. Mitch folded her into his arms, his hand slipping into her hair, even as his tongue slid into her mouth. She opened for him. His taste seeped into her, a drug she’d been too long without. Relief fueled the spark of desire, had her moaning, pressing closer, wanting more. His hand skated down her back, over her hip, tugging her against the hard ridge of his erection. Rising to her toes, she shifted her hips against him, seeking to assuage the ache between her thighs, and earned a growl in return. She needed him, needed to wipe out the time and distance between them. The knock on the door was the only thing that stopped her from dragging him back to the bedroom and picking up exactly where they’d left off in Scotland.

  Mitch lifted his head, a faintly feral expression in his eyes. “Who the hell is knocking on your door at five o’clock in the morning?”

  “Room service.” Tess stepped away, smoothing her hair down and scrubbing a hand over her face. As if that was going to somehow wipe away the thoroughly kissed expression. “Hide. You can’t be seen here at this hour. People will think you were here all night.”

  With a wicked grin, he disappeared into the bedroom. God, she hoped h
e behaved himself. If he so much as crooked a finger, she’d be tempted to fall into that bed, and she had that conference call in fifteen minutes. Struggling to put the thought out of her mind, Tess tugged open the door. After a brief exchange that included profuse thanks and an enormous tip, she carried the hot water to the kitchenette and added one of the silk teabags she’d brought with her from England.

  Hands slid over her hips, drawing her back against the length of Mitch’s body. He nuzzled at her neck. “You’re really stopping to make tea now?”

  He was still hard, the ridge of his cock nestled against her backside. Tess curled her hands around the counter as her knees went loose. “I really am. Because I…have a video conference in—” She checked her watch. “—ten minutes, and I can’t…have you mussing me up any more than you already have.”

  “Sure?” Mitch swiveled his hips.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, giving in for just a moment to press back against him.

  He nibbled at her ear. “I could be fast.”

  For a few glorious seconds she considered it. As primed and on edge as she was, it probably wouldn’t take much. But she didn’t need to have post-orgasmic glow or sex brain going into this meeting. Reluctantly, she stepped way. “Fast is not exactly your hallmark. Nor would I want it to be.” Setting a timer for the tea, she turned. “You really probably shouldn’t muss me at all here. Too many prying eyes and ears who could take it back to my father. And I don’t want him to know about this. Not until we know—”

  “—whether it’s worth moving heaven and earth and enduring the opinions of the family for. I get that. It’s gonna be an awkward situation. I’d just as soon not give your daddy reason to hire a hit man.”

  “Don’t be absurd. My dad would not hire a hit man.” She paused for effect, keeping a straight face. “He’s got one on retainer.”

  Mitch snorted. “Oh yeah, I met Kane last year.”

  Amusement had the corners of her mouth kicking into a full-on smile. “He’s got that Red Grant vibe minus the British, right? But really, he’s not a hit man. He’s ex-CIA.”

  “I cannot tell you how hot it is that you know your Bond movies. That aside, what Kane is is a scary son of a bitch, who I don’t want coming after me because I laid a hand on his boss’s only daughter. Even though I didn’t know she was his daughter at the time.”

  She sobered. “Would it have made a difference if you had known?”

  He drew her in again, lacing his hands at the small of her back and rubbing lazy circles along her spine with his thumb. “I’d have maybe not jumped quite so quick, but I don’t think I could’ve stayed away. Because I think this pull would’ve been there regardless.”

  “Then I’m glad you didn’t know. Because I wouldn’t change a single thing about our week together. Except for how it ended.”

  “Water under the bridge, baby. We’re starting a new one now.”

  “If we’re going to make the most of it, we need a legitimate reason to spend time together that no one would suspect.”

  Mitch angled his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Mr. Peyton will see you now.”

  Mitch nodded to Louis. Like the rest of the family, he’d met Trey’s frighteningly efficient PA, but he’d never had cause to go through him for a formal appointment before. He hoped Tess was right about this setting the right tone for the request. He hoped a whole helluva a lot because it felt like his future was riding on this.

  Hours had passed since he’d left Tess this morning to shower, shave, and make himself presentable. She’d had meetings, and she’d insisted she needed the chance to update her dad on the London project she was wrapping up, so that he’d be suitably impressed before they made their pitch. Mitch had a hard time imagining anyone not being impressed with her. Particularly after he’d tossed the idea at her and watched her run with it. She and Norah had that capability in common. Mitch hoped that was another point in their favor.

  As he came into the room, Trey rose from where he’d been perched on the edge of the desk. “Mitch. It was a surprise to see you on my schedule this afternoon.”

  He nodded at the older man, eyes automatically tracking to Tess making more tea at the sideboard before he could drag his gaze back. “Well, I had a business proposition to discuss, so I figured I’d go through the proper channels.”

  “Business? Color me intrigued. You want coffee or anything?”

  “No sir, I’m good.”

  “Then have a seat.” Trey gestured toward the grouping of sofa and chairs.

  Mitch dropped onto one end of the sofa, hoping Tess would take up the other. He couldn’t touch her, hardly dared even look at her in front of her father, but he liked knowing she was close. Clasping his hands, Mitch leaned forward and focused on Trey. “I think it’s fair to say that Wishful has been something of a pet project for you. I figure a large part of that is because of Aunt Sandy, but either way, you and your company have had a significant impact on the revitalization of the town.”

  Trey angled his head in concession of the point.

  “Now I know you and Norah have ended up focusing more on the rural tourism side of things, and that’s been good. But there’s more that could be done.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I think you should buy the old Heirloom Home Furnishings factory.”

  Trey’s brows shot up. “Why?”

  Mitch had intended to say something about the revitalization of what had once been a cornerstone of Wishful’s economy. Instead, he thought about Miranda and the bruises that had barely faded. He hadn’t even been there and yet, from secondhand accounts alone, the images of that final standoff with her kidnapper, inside the old factory, were vivid and unshakable. “Because the last thing to happen there was ugly and horrible and traumatic, and I either want to turn it into something that will benefit the town, or I want to raze it to the ground. At the risk of being accused of using family connections, you have the resources to do that.”

  He felt rather than saw Tess’s questioning gaze. He hadn’t mentioned that part to her this morning, but it was driving him as much as the desire to spend time with her.

  Sympathy flashed across Trey’s features. “I do. And your sentiment is understandable. But what do you propose I do with it? None of our holdings are in manufacturing.”

  “I think you should turn into something else entirely. It’s a good space. Big and solidly built. Once the last of the machinery is pulled, it could be retrofitted and divided up, and I think it could make a fantastic small business incubator.” Mitch glanced toward Tess again as she crossed with a mug. “I got the idea because of something your daughter said, and it’s been kicking around in my brain ever since.” No reason to mention that was longer than last night.

  “A small business incubator?” Trey directed this at Tess, who lowered to the sofa with her tea.

  Mitch felt the small shift of the cushions and fought not to lean toward her. But he swore he could feel the heat of her from three feet away.

  “It’s something I had intended to talk to you about in the future.” She paused, and Mitch tried not to watch as she crossed those long legs, deliberately taking time to seemingly gather the thoughts for the speech she already had down cold. “We’re in a unique position to provide the space and expertise to assist small businesses in getting off the ground. As you well know, that’s harder and harder for them to do in today’s economy. Innovation is a key to longevity, but a lot of businesses lose out because they just can’t afford the overhead or support staff or the space to really weather getting to that point. We could do that. We could help build businesses that will properly support their local economies in an organic way that direct investment just doesn’t. I hadn’t thought about doing it here until Mitch mentioned it, but the idea has merit. We could set up something like that in Wishful on a smaller scale as a test case for something broader down the line. In the current climate of anti-mono
poly sentiment, that would be not only good business but good press. Something for the non-profit arm of the company. Or venture capital, if you prefer to go that route.”

  Trey’s lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re sounding like Norah.”

  “As you have repeatedly mentioned, she’s a smart woman. I think it could be a smart move.”

  Her father propped one foot on his knee. “It’s a thought. Who do we have who could spearhead that kind of project?”

  “Me. I’m all but finished with my role in London. I had thought to go back to Denver, but this would give me a chance to get my hands dirty with something I’m really passionate about. And it would mean I get to spend some more time here with you.”

  “That’s enough for me right there. I’ve missed my girl. But business is business. Go look into it. Put together a prospectus and a business plan for how you see it playing out, and show me the numbers. Then we’ll talk for real.”

  Mitch repressed the urge to pump his fist in victory.

  Tess looked over at him. “Do you think you could get ahold of some keys to show me around the space?”

  “Already got them. I thought the two of you might want to look at it this afternoon, if you have time.”

  Trey shoved up from his chair and circled back to his desk. “I’ve got a call with Bruce in half an hour, but you go ahead. If we do this, I want to know whether it’s more economically feasible to retrofit the factory or build something from the ground up. Think you can work something up by the end of the week?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Then we’ll talk about it at family dinner on Sunday. Sandy and Cam will want to know about it, and I’m sure Norah will have ideas.” He grinned. “Having the mayor, a city councilman, and the city planner in one place can be handy.”