Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal
- -
- 100%
- +
He wasn’t merely good-looking. With a cleft chin, a mouth that was at once ascetic and sensual, a strong nose, high cheekbones, brilliant, thickly lashed green eyes and dark, curved brows, he was intriguing, riveting.
But it was more than his looks. Much more. There was something about the man himself. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to, but something that fulfilled a need in her. It felt right to be with him, as if she had always known him, as if they belonged together.
While they ate an excellent meal he kept the conversation light and general, moving from topic to topic, finding out what interested her, seeking her opinion on the subjects that did.
In spite of her awareness of him, the heated attraction that lay just beneath the surface, she found herself responding with an ease that, when she thought about it later, surprised her.
It wasn’t until they reached the coffee stage that he deliberately moved into more dangerous territory.
Needing to know, and recalling the levelness of her gaze even when she was flustered, he went for the direct approach. ‘Tell me about your husband.’
Every nerve in her body tightening, she said, ‘There’s not much to tell.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Colin. Colin Formby.’
‘You kept your maiden name?’ he queried.
‘Yes. It was what my family wanted,’ she said quietly, taking a sip of her drink.
He raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘You were an only child?’
‘Yes,’ Madeleine answered.
Rafe paused, leaning back in his chair. ‘What field was your husband in?’
‘Physiotherapy.’
‘When did the pair of you meet?’
‘At university.’ Madeleine lowered her gaze, focusing on anything but Rafe’s probing gaze.
‘You were students together?’
‘No. I was in my final year. Colin was a tutor.’
Rafe was intrigued. ‘So he was older than you?’
‘Eighteen years.’
‘A big gap.’
‘Yes,’ she said shortly. Madeleine had always thought that the age gap, big as it was, wouldn’t have mattered if she had truly loved him.
Rafe could sense her growing discomfort, but having got this far, he decided to press on. ‘How long were the two of you married?’
‘Six months.’
‘Not long.’
‘No,’ Madeleine almost whispered.
Rafe paused, knowing his questions were difficult for her. ‘How did he die?’
‘He was killed in an explosion.’
Quelling the urge to ask any further questions, Rafe commented, ‘Tough.’
Madeleine raised her eyes to his. ‘Yes, it was.’
There was sadness there and some other emotion Rafe couldn’t put a name to. But it wasn’t the utter desolation, the inconsolable grief, of someone who had lost all they held dear. Of that he was sure.
He breathed an inward sigh of relief. The absence of a man in her life had made him fear that she was still in love with her dead husband, but the vibes he was picking up convinced him he was wrong.
Which must make his chances of succeeding, a great deal easier, he thought.
Refilling her coffee-cup, he changed the subject smoothly. ‘What does Madeleine Knight do in her spare time? Are you a secret television addict?’
Relaxing again, she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I much prefer a book.’
‘Ah, a woman after my own heart! Have you read Matthew Colt’s Funny Business…?’
‘Oh, yes…I loved the part where Joe tries to steal his exwife’s poodle…’
For a little while they talked about the book, laughing over the bits that had amused them the most, before Madeleine remarked, ‘I read somewhere that it’s going to be turned into a play.’
‘So I understand. Should be worth seeing…Do you like the theatre?’
‘Love it.’
‘Have you had a chance to see the new West End play everyone’s talking about?’
‘Beloved Impresario?’ She shook her head and, unwilling to admit she couldn’t really afford to go to the theatre these days, said, ‘I imagine tickets are like gold dust.’
‘I’m sure I could get hold of a couple, if you’d like to see it?’ he asked casually.
Her heart starting to hammer against her ribs, she bit back the urge to accept. She was being foolish in the extreme just having dinner with him. No doubt all he wanted was a brief fling.
But while many women might have jumped at the chance, that kind of thing wasn’t her style.
Plus, it could cost her her job.
Her expression tight, controlled, she refused with formal politeness. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’
He was having none of it. Green eyes looked into aquamarine. ‘You mean you don’t want to see it? Or you don’t want to see it with me?’
Feeling as though she’d been set down in the middle of a minefield, she found herself wishing the evening were over. Wishing she could escape.
And he knew it.
Lifting her chin, she answered as steadily as possible, ‘I don’t have much spare time, so I don’t want to commit myself.’
He had known from the start that getting anywhere with this woman wouldn’t be easy. Now he realized that it was going to be a great deal harder than he had anticipated.
But he had wanted her on sight, wanted her with a passionate hunger that had surprised and shaken him. And no matter what it took, he vowed, he intended to have her.
But it would be a mistake to come on too strong.
With a graceful movement of his hand he conceded defeat and, his expression bland, steered the conversation into less perilous channels.
Feeling relieved, she followed his lead.
Watching her, he noted that relief and wondered why she was so wary, so reluctant to get involved.
Still, the night was young. There was time to change her mood.
His charming nature soon set her at her ease once more, and by the time they finally rose to leave she could have stayed there all night.
And he knew that too.
Watching her face, soft and dreamy now, he felt a strange tenderness mingling with satisfaction as he escorted her outside.
Moonlit air caressed her skin like velvet, and the stars were so close she felt she only had to stretch out a hand to pluck one from the sky.
The taxi Rafe had ordered was waiting for them, and his hand a warm weight in the middle of her spine, he ushered her towards it.
When they were settled in the back, he said, ‘I understand from Miss Collins that you live in Knightsbridge. Where exactly?’
She gave him the address of her flat and, sliding open the glass panel, he relayed it to the driver.
As they reached the gates and joined the late-night stream of traffic, he looked deep into her eyes. His look was so intent and searching it made her heart beat faster and her breath grow short.
While she stared back at him as though mesmerised, he took her heart-shaped face between his palms and, bending his dark head, touched his mouth to hers.
His kiss, light and fleeting though it was, seemed to melt every bone in her body and filled her with an almost uncontrollable longing.
Drawing back, he said quizzically, ‘There now, that’s what you’ve been fearing all night, but it didn’t hurt a bit, did it?’
When she just looked at him with big, dazed eyes, he said, ‘So shall I do it again?’
Somehow she found her voice and lied jerkily, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘OK,’ he said, and kissed her again. This time there was nothing light or fleeting about it.
When, without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath the light pressure of his, he deepened the kiss until her head was reeling and her very soul had lost its way.
He could feel her trembling and, sensing that she was his for the taking, he suggested softly, ‘My apartment is quite close to here. Will you come up for a nightcap?’
Somehow she found her voice and objected huskily, ‘It’s late. I should get to bed.’
‘Exactly what I had in mind…’ he murmured.
She didn’t dare look at him.
‘With so much chemistry between us…’ He let the sentence tail off.
But then he didn’t need to say any more. Sex with him would be good, she knew that instinctively. Better than good. Mind-blowing.
Heat running through her, she said, ‘I’ve never gone in for one-night stands,’ and was uncomfortably aware that she sounded stuffy and old-fashioned.
Raising a dark brow, he asked, ‘Who said anything about a one-night stand? I have the distinct feeling that having you in my arms for a million and one nights wouldn’t be enough.’
Struggling to close her mind to the seduction in his voice and words, she looked down at her lap. For once in her life she was sorely tempted to do what Eve was always telling her to do, and live a little.
But the guilt that had been her albatross now became her saviour, reminding her that she couldn’t afford—either financially or emotionally—to get involved with this man.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, ‘I don’t want to go to bed with you. I’d like to go home, please.’
Chapter Two
MADELINE braced herself, expecting him to be angry, to try and persuade her to change her mind, but, showing no signs of temper or disappointment, Rafe said evenly, ‘Very well. If that’s what you want.’
Relieved that he’d accepted her decision, that she’d won so easily, she made an effort to relax her taut muscles.
The relief turned out to be premature, as he returned to the attack.
‘Have lunch with me tomorrow?’ Before she could answer, he swept on, ‘According to the forecast, it’s going to be another lovely day. We could go for a drive, and picnic in an idyllic spot I know.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t.’
‘You’re not working tomorrow, are you?’ he questioned.
‘No. But I’ve a lot to do.’ In a rush, she added, ‘Saturday mornings I clean the flat, and then I do some shopping.’
She always bought a selection of small gifts for her mother, before catching the two-thirty bus to the nursing home.
He raised dark brows. ‘Surely housework and shopping can wait? While this good weather holds, having a drive in the country and a picnic would be a lot more fun.’
Thinking of what had happened to her mother and Colin, and feeling the black taste of guilt in her mouth, she said sharply, ‘There’s a lot more to life than just having fun.’
Then, seeing the shadow that had fallen across his face, and regretting lashing out, she touched his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t very gracious of me.’
‘No.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘But you don’t have to be gracious with me. I’d much prefer honesty…’
She was surprised. None of the men she’d known had particularly valued honesty.
‘Tell me why the idea of having a little fun upset you so much,’ he pursued.
It wasn’t something she could tell him.
It wasn’t something she could bring herself to tell anyone. Not even Eve and Noel.
Pulling her hand free, she said jerkily, ‘It isn’t the idea of having fun…It’s just that…’ The words tailed off.
‘You really can’t stand the sight of me?’
She should have said yes, and be done with it. Instead, she said, ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’
‘So what is it?’
‘I—I don’t have time for commitments…’
‘I wasn’t asking you to sign your life over to me,’ he said mildly, ‘merely to spend a few fleeting hours in my company. If you’re busy Saturday morning, let’s make it the afternoon.’
‘I’m not free Saturday afternoon. I have to be out by two-thirty.’
‘What time will you be home?’
Naturally truthful, she admitted, ‘About six.’
‘Then have dinner with me.’
Before she could think of an excuse, they were turning into Danetree Court, an old-fashioned block in a tree-lined square.
As they drew up outside her ground-floor flat, fumbling in her bag for her key, she said quickly, ‘Don’t bother to get out.’
Ignoring her injunction, Rafe asked the driver to wait and accompanied her across the pavement. In the amber glow from the street lamp he unlocked the door and handed her back the key.
‘Thank you.’ Dropping it into her bag, she slipped inside and turned to face him.
He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body and his breath stirring her hair.
She glanced up.
His mouth was only inches away. Just the thought of it touching hers again sent shivers down her spine and brought her out in goose-pimples.
She backed a step. ‘And thank you for a very nice evening. I’ve had a lovely time.’
‘I’m pleased you’ve enjoyed it.’ Then, as though it was all settled, ‘I thought we’d go to Annabel’s tomorrow evening
She hesitated, knowing full well she should stop this thing in its tracks but wanting desperately to see him again.
Looking into her face, seeing her waver, he added firmly, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’
Though common sense told her she was being a fool, she agreed, ‘All right.’
When he lifted a quizzical brow at her lack of enthusiasm, her voice unsteady, she added, ‘I’ll look forward to it…Well, goodnight.’
He tilted his head to one side, a gesture she was coming to know. ‘Rafe?’
‘Rafe,’ she echoed obediently. It was the first time she had used his name.
‘Goodnight, Madeleine. Sleep well.’
‘Goodnight,’ she said again.
He didn’t turn away as she had expected. Instead he stood quite motionless, watching her.
She knew she should step back and close the door, but, fascinated by the unnerving stillness that generated so much sexual tension, she was still rooted to the spot when he bent and kissed her.
This time his mouth was not only sweet, but also familiar. His arms went around her, and he drew her close. His kiss was firm and masterful and when he sought to deepen it her lips parted as though there was no help for it.
The last obstacle removed, his mouth began to move against hers in a sizzling kiss that melted her last defences as easily as a blowtorch melted butter.
He tasted like ambrosia. Her stomach clenched and her heart began to race wildly, while desire dried her throat and ran like red-hot lava through her bloodstream.
She was no longer capable of thinking straight when, a few seconds later, he freed her mouth and, his voice husky, murmured, ‘You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to feel your naked body against mine, to make love to you…’
Looking up into his shadowy face, she knew she ought to send him away. But she couldn’t.
‘Is that what you want?’ he murmured.
She nodded silently and, her breathing shallow and ragged, waited impatiently while he went to pay off the taxi.
He came back and, taking her chin in his hand, lifted her face and began to kiss her again, kisses sweeter than wine, as he eased them inside and closed the door.
In the gloom, he continued to kiss her while he removed the clasp that held her hair. She heard his little murmur of satisfaction as the silky mass tumbled around her shoulders and he ran his fingers through it.
Then his hands slipped to the warmth of her nape and began to travel over her, tracing her shoulders, her ribcage, her slender waist, the flare of her hips and the curve of her firm buttocks.
‘I’ve never met a women I wanted so much,’ he murmured against her lips.
His touch was all she had ever hoped for or needed, and above his softly spoken words she could hear his heart beating. Or was it her own?
Caught up in a whirl of sensual delight, on a flight to the stars, she was hearing things, tasting things, feeling things that she had never heard or tasted or felt before.
While he continued to kiss her he unbuttoned her blouse and, unhooking the fastening of her bra, slipped one hand inside. Her breast fitted neatly into his palm. Enjoying the warm weight of it, he brushed his thumb over the velvety nipple and felt it firm beneath his touch. Shudders of pleasure running through her, she gasped deep in her throat. Hearing that muffled sound and interpreting it correctly, he bent his head to take the other nipple in his mouth and suckle until her whole body was on fire with longing.
When she could stand no more she pushed him away and, taking his hand, urged him towards the bedroom.
As the door closed behind them, the small voice of reason warned her that she was acting completely out of character. Acting like a fool.
But, having jumped into the deep end, she was in over her head and unwilling to be saved. Brushing reason aside, she moved to close the slatted window blind and shut out the night.
Turning to him, she saw the gleam of his eyes in the semidarkness before he switched on the bedside lamp, flooding that part of the room in amber light.
On the dressing table close by was a framed snapshot of a smiling, fair-haired man.
Reaching out, Rafe picked it up and, his voice a little wary, asked, ‘Is this your husband?’
She answered distractedly, ‘Oh, no, that’s Noel. He’s out in the Middle East. In the oil fields.’
‘An ex-lover?’
‘A friend.’
Rafe replaced the photograph with care, and turned to gaze at her.
She had expected him to skip over the preliminaries and hurry her into bed, but with no suggestion of haste he said softly, ‘I want to look at you. Take off your clothes for me.’
As though under a spell, she began to take off her suit and blouse. But modesty once ingrained was hard to dislodge, and, aware as she was of his appreciative gaze, the lick of flame in his eyes, her cheeks were hot as she stripped off her panties.
When she straightened and stood before him naked, he made a half-smothered sound deep in his throat, a very male sound, and without taking his eyes off her for an instant began to divest himself of his own shoes and clothing.
As she watched him discard his dark silk boxer shorts, it was her turn to smother the gasp that rose in her throat. Too turned on to move, she swallowed hard, her stomach tightening with anticipation.
‘Come here,’ he said.
When she obeyed, he lifted her onto the bed and stretched out beside her. Then, propping himself on one elbow, he leaned over her and, his hand fondling her breast, he said softly, ‘You’re exquisite. The loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.’
Colin had been an unexciting lover, with a low sex drive and little skill. Not only had he preferred to make love in the dark, but also he had never told her she was beautiful, nor had he caressed her in that way.
Rather, he had avoided touching her, as though he found the idea of enjoying sex something to be slightly ashamed of.
Rafe obviously had no such inhibitions.
Inhaling the fragrance of her skin, he murmured, ‘You smell as fresh and delightful as apple blossom,’ before his mouth began to roam over her.
She shivered deliciously as his unshaven jaw rasped against the smooth skin of her flat stomach.
When he had kissed and tasted every inch of her golden flesh, his mouth returned to pleasure her breasts while his fingers found the nest of pale, silky curls and began to explore further. Shivering, she gave herself up to the sensations those skilful fingers were engendering.
It wasn’t long, however, before the exquisite torment grew too much to bear and she writhed under the lash of pleasure while desire rode her, digging in its spurs so that she began to make little whimpering sounds deep in her throat.
He paused, then, drawing her back against him, spoonfashion, he eased her hips towards him before returning his hands to her breasts.
Just at first he was careful, as though gauging her reaction. Then he began to thrust more strongly, building a tension that spiralled and grew until the sensations, almost too great to be borne, peaked, and stars exploded inside her head.
Hearing her little gasping cries with pleasure, he held her there, drawing out the moment, until he too was caught up in the surging excitement.
For a while they lay together quietly while their heart rates and breathing returned to normal. Then he drew away, and, turning her to face him, gathered her close and kissed her tenderly.
Knowing she’d been married, he had been somewhat thrown, partly by her obvious shyness, and partly by her instinctive reaction to their lovemaking. Her obvious pleasure had been followed by what he could have sworn was gratitude. Frowning, he wondered if her husband had been clumsy and lacking skill, or simply uncaring.
Seeing that frown, she asked a shade anxiously, ‘I hope you weren’t disappointed?’
‘Anything but,’ he assured her.
Then, picking up her very real concern, he kissed her and, leaning his forehead against hers, told her with soft emphasis, ‘You’re very special, and I’m immensely flattered that you let me into your bed.’
Feeling her relax, with a little sigh of relief he settled her head on his shoulder. She felt limp as arag doll. The power and intensity of his lovemaking had left her exhausted, totally drained, yet at the same time full of bliss, brimming with rapture.
Never for a moment had she imagined love could be like this—and yes, it was love—never imagined that this strength of feeling could take root and blossom so quickly. It wasn’t just the result of sexual deprivation, nor was it simply the chemistry between them. This was different. This was more. Much more.
They seemed to meet on every level, physical, mental and emotional. And as she slid into sleep she found herself thinking that if she searched the world over she would never find a man who was more right for her.
The same thought was in her mind when she stirred and surfaced slowly, her body relaxed and satisfied, a quiet happiness singing through her.
She was in love, truly in love, for the very first time. It was a big risk, letting herself fall so hard and so fast for a man she had only just met.
But she couldn’t say she hadn’t known what she was doing. Well aware that she was vulnerable, well aware that she was teetering on the brink of falling for him, well aware that making love with him could easily push her over, she had walked into it with her eyes wide open.
And it had been wonderful beyond words. She had never felt so utterly content. Not even her guilt over Colin could spoil things, or alter the way she felt about Rafe.
Sighing, she stretched out a hand to touch him, but she was alone. Jolted wide awake, she opened her eyes to find he was standing by the bed fully dressed, a cup of tea in his hand.
‘I’m sorry to wake you, but I thought it best if I left early.’
He set the cup on the bedside cabinet and smiled down at her. The blind was still closed, but even in the half-light his thickly lashed green eyes were brilliant, and with his hair a little rumpled, a dark stubble adorning his jaw, he looked irresistibly virile and attractive.
Her heart doing strange things, she pushed herself into a sitting position.
‘What I’d really like to do,’ he went on, ‘is stay and make love to you until such a time as the sight of a strange man leaving your flat wouldn’t raise a single eyebrow…’
Just his words made her go hot all over and sent a surge of desire running through her.
‘But bearing in mind what you said about having a lot to do, I’m restraining the urge…’
Disappointment pricked sharp as a thorn.
‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’
He stooped and kissed her, a lingering kiss, as if he couldn’t bear to leave her. She was on the verge of begging him to stay when he straightened and strode to the door.
An instant later he was gone.
For a moment or two she felt empty and lost—bereft—as if the whole thing had been nothing but a wonderful dream. But the cup of tea sitting by her elbow was tangible proof, not only that he was no dream, but also that he’d cared enough to think about her. Gladness returning, she reached for the cup and took a sip. Only the day to get through and she would be seeing him again.