Taking Home The Tycoon. Catherine Mann

time before she would find sleep.

      * * *

      Next to the kitchen, the craft room was Natalie’s favorite place to spend time creating—everything from her dresses to accessories she sold in The Courtyard. The little artisanal mall was a big hit in town, and a nice source of extra income for her stretched budget.

      She knew she was lucky to have a creative outlet that blended with her life as a single mom. In a house drenched in color riffs of reds and yellows—remnants, in some ways, of a Texas sunset—the craft room boasted a lighter, airy setting. The light sea-foam-green wall stood in contrast to the other cream walls. Tufts of tulle, lace and silky fabrics huddled in the corner, sparking whimsy into Natalie’s life.

      She ruffled through the half-finished sketches of bridal dresses on the glass desk rimmed with gold, nearly knocking over the arrangement of blue hydrangeas—her favorite.

      The room itself, such a stark contrast to the rest of her house, made her feel like she’d stepped into a fairy-tale land. A place outside the reality of her existence. A place where she channeled the grief of losing her husband into more productive, selfless endeavors.

      Like running a small, custom-wedding-gown business. Sewing was threaded throughout her entire life for as far back as Natalie could remember. Great-grandmother Elisa had taught her to crochet, and after that Natalie found the act of creation comforting. She’d soon transitioned into sewing, sketching and eventually designing her own clothes.

      Natalie had always found art in these moments of baking and sewing. These weren’t merely goods to be sold, but pieces of her soul she sent out into the world.

      Turning away from the desk after consulting the sketch, she tried not to think of the man staying in the room above. Focus on the here and now. In a slight state of disarray, she noted the piles of airy fabric in her three sewing machines—evidence of her works in progress. More than just her work, it was her creative outlet. A piece of the world just for her.

      In the very back corner behind the white couch accented with gold pillows, where her two friends were sipping mimosas, she smiled at the completed gown—a wispy lacy dress with a sweetheart neckline. Perfect for a boho bride. Their figures formed a silhouette against the drawn blind to keep prying eyes out. No one needed to see the masterpiece until after it was complete and the bride made her debut.

      Even with the blinds drawn shut, an expansive skylight allowed golden September light to wash over the room, adding to the otherworldly airiness.

      Sketch in hand, Natalie made her way to the white couch where Emily Knox sat, green eyes rolling back as she bit into one of the apple turnovers. She swallowed and dabbed her pink lips with a napkin, a smile forming on her whole face. “You have outdone yourself this time, Natalie.” Emily placed the turnover back down on the glass-and-gold coffee table, her nimble, long fingers finding the champagne flute.

      Natalie couldn’t help thinking about the drink with Max, how easy it had been to talk to him, to lean into his touch. How quickly he’d filled her home, her thoughts, her life.

      Emily took a sip of the mimosa and then raised her glass to Natalie, appreciation radiating from her eyes and her yum. After she set the glass down on the table, Emily carefully arranged the knickknacks and uneaten pastries, pulled out her camera and snapped a picture. She fluffed her honey-brown hair, content to review her image. Emily saw photographically, and her ranch-based home provided a continual canvas of inspiration.

      “Please. It’s nothing.” Natalie shoved her left hand into her pocket, searching for her misplaced measuring tape.

      “No, honey, this is delightful,” Brandee Lawless offered, staring at her reflection in the ornate mirror. Her dress wasn’t quite finished.

      A pit of guilt welled in Natalie’s stomach as she examined the state of Brandee’s dress. She was a mash-up of the girl next door and a woman who would fight for her ranch and dreams with every fiber of her body. Brandee was set to marry Shane Delgado, a rancher and millionaire real-estate developer.

      The wedding was approaching, and Brandee’s dress was more of a suggestion at this point. Classic lines that felt just right for Brandee—and that was about as far as Natalie had this dress figured out. Silk skimmed over a more structured underdress, and while Natalie imagined lace integrated into the design, the exact positioning was still a work in progress.

      Brandee licked a hint of cinnamon from the corner of her mouth. “I’m praying Max St. Cloud can find the person responsible for these cyberattacks. It’s just...deplorable what this person is trying to do to the people of this town.”

      Emily nodded, her normally sunny features darkening. “So much hatred in one person. It must be personal, which is scary because if so, the person could be close.” Her voice grew taut, as if the words had to climb over a lump in her vocal cords. “But to try to destroy my marriage. How can a person have a vendetta against so many of us?”

      The cyberattacker had sent photos to Emily trying to make her think her husband, Tom, was cheating on her with Natalie. Someone had taken photos of Tom helping Natalie and her children, photos so strategically taken one could almost believe he had a second family. Tom had just been trying to help, had been suffering from a hefty case of survivor’s guilt over her husband’s death. Life had been hard on all of them.

      Thank goodness the Knox marriage had survived and was stronger than ever.

      Now Emily and Natalie were even friends. Truth was stronger than hate.

      Natalie strategically hugged Brandee, careful not to press any of the loose pins into her. “Let’s not allow that awful person to steal anything more from us by taking our joy. We can’t stop him or her—not yet anyway—but we don’t have to invite that negativity into our lives. There are so many reasons to rejoice.”

      Brandee nodded. “Did you hear? Nick and Harper’s latest ultrasound showed the twins are both boys. It seems like the population is exploding in our little town.”

      Emily snorted on a laugh. “Isn’t that the truth? It’ll be your turn, Brandee, soon enough. We need to keep that joy in mind.”

      “You’re right.” Brandee smiled widely. “Nothing should taint every moment leading up to my wedding.” She twirled around on the pedestal, recalling a lithe ballerina. Even in the half-finished dress, she was a swirl of bridal beauty.

      Shoving off the couch, camera slung around her neck and mimosa in hand, Emily strode over to them. “Mimosas and friendship and photos. To weddings. And gorgeous gowns.”

      “I’m sorry the gown isn’t complete.” Wringing her hands, Natalie stared at the heap of fabric, beads and lace. At all the yet-to-be-realized potential.

      “This is a custom job. I understand that, love that and adore the idea of photos of the gown in progress, fittings and changes.” Brandee shrugged, another smile lighting up her face, brightening her eyes. “It’s a metaphor for life. The joy and process doesn’t stop on the wedding day.”

      The work.

      Natalie blinked back tears. Damn it, she usually didn’t let her armor crack this way.

      Emily glided forward and wrapped her in a gentle hug. “Oh, God, Nat, I’m sorry.”

      Natalie willed in one steadying breath after another. Comfort almost made it tougher, but she practically shoved the tears back into her body. Another steadying breath, and she patted her way free of the hug. “Please, don’t. It’s been a year. I’m moving forward with my life. I’m beginning to remember the happy times that deserve to be celebrated.”

      Her attraction to Max had been a mixture of relief, in that it assured her she was moving forward, and wariness, because now she needed to figure out if she was ready.

      Reaching out to her friend, Brandee gave Natalie’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “You’re incredible.”

      Natalie choked on a laugh and sniffled back the last hint of tears. “I wish. But thank you. Making these