The Irresistible Tycoon

Bob had been kind enough in his own way and she had found the running of the small office exerted no great pressure or stress; indeed in the last six months she had been becoming increasingly bored.

‘It was a nice family firm to work for,’ Kim said now as she realised Lucas Kane was waiting for a response.

‘Kane Electrical is not a nice family firm,’ came the dry reply as the eagle eyes flashed to meet hers again. ‘Do you think you are capable of making the transition?’

It wasn’t so much what he said but the way in which he said it, and again it caught Kim on the raw, calling forth a terse reply that was not like her, she thought confusedly even as she said, ‘I wouldn’t have wasted your time or mine in applying for the position if I didn’t, Mr Kane.’

She saw the dark brows frown and his mouth tighten, but June chose that precise moment to knock and enter with the coffee, and Kim had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life. She knew she was flushed, she could feel her cheeks burning, and she acknowledged her tone had not been one which a prospective employee would dream of using to their future employer, but it was him, Lucas Kane, she told herself in silent agitation. She had never met such a patronising, arrogant, downright supercilious man in all her life.

‘Do you own a car, Mrs Allen?’

‘What?’ She had just settled back in her seat after accepting her cup of coffee from June and was bringing the cup to her lips when the question, barked as it was, made the steaming hot coffee slurp over the side of the china cup into the saucer as Kim gave an involuntary start.

‘A car?’ he repeated very distinctly.

The tone was now one of exaggerated patience, and it brought the adrenalin pumping again as she took a deep breath and forced herself not to bite back, instead speaking calmly and coolly as she said, ‘No, I do not own a car, Mr Kane.’

‘But I see you have passed a driving test. Are you a confident driver?’ His eyes were like narrowed points of silver light. ‘Or perhaps I should ask if you are a competent one?’ he added silkily.

‘I’m both confident and competent,’ she answered smartly. ‘Maggie has me on her insurance so I borrow her car when I need to.’

‘Ah, the ever-helpful Maggie.’

She definitely didn’t like his tone, and she had just opened her mouth to tell him so, and to point out what he could do with his wonderful job, when he said, ‘If you were offered this post and accepted it a car would be provided for your use. A BMW or something similar. I don’t want my secretary trailing about waiting for buses that arrive late, or being unable to get from A to B in the shortest possible time.’

She stared at him, uncertain of what to say. Was he telling her all this so that she would be aware of what she had missed when he turned her down? she asked herself wretchedly. She wouldn’t put anything past Lucas Kane.

‘And there would be a clothing allowance,’ he continued smoothly, his gaze running over her for a second and reminding her that her off-the-peg suit—although smart and businesslike—was not in the same league as the couturier number June was wearing. ‘There is the occasional function here in England which requires evening dress, but certainly on the trips abroad you will require an array of clothes.’

If she had been flushed before she knew she was like a beetroot now. He had put it fairly tactfully, she had to admit, but the end result was that he considered her an office version of Cinderella! But clothing for herself had been the last priority since Graham had died, in fact she couldn’t remember buying anything new since then, apart from items of underwear. She just hadn’t been able to afford it…

‘Yes, I see.’ She forced the words out through stiff lips and then took a hefty sip of the hot coffee, letting it burn a fortifying path down into her stomach.

He didn’t have a clue how the other half lived, she thought savagely, shading her eyes with her thick lashes so he wouldn’t see the anger in her eyes. For the last two years she had lain awake nearly every night doing interminable sums in her head, even though she knew the end result would be fruitless.

Her marriage had been a nightmare but Graham’s death—following a drinking binge when he had fallen through a shop plate-glass window—had unleashed a whole new set of horrors. Her husband had left debts—frightening, mind-boggling debts, as far as she was concerned—and, Graham being Graham, he hadn’t been concerned about tying her into the terrifying tangle. She had been so stupid in the early days of their marriage; she’d trusted him, signed papers without enquiring too much about the whys and wherefores, and the payments she’d believed had been as regular as clockwork just hadn’t happened.

Not only that but he had borrowed from friends, business colleagues, anyone who would lend him money to finance his failing one-man business and—more importantly, to Graham—his alcohol addiction.

She had known, once she had become pregnant with Melody, there was something terribly wrong. The handsome, charming, flashing-eyed Romeo from university days had changed into someone she didn’t recognise, but she had put it down to work stress, the unplanned pregnancy—she had become pregnant following a stomach bug which had made the Pill ineffective—all manner of things but the real cause.

She had loved him, made excuses for him—fool, fool, fool. And all the while the debts had been mounting, debts she was now struggling to pay off, month after painful month, as well as providing for her daughter and herself.

Maggie had been great. The two thousand pounds Graham had borrowed from her had been written off as far as Maggie was concerned on the day of the funeral, but there were plenty of others who hadn’t been so magnanimous.

She was constantly torn all ways. She wanted Melody to have nice clothes, good food and a happy environment, but although she had struggled to make the best of the tiny bedsit she had rented since the funeral it was hardly the best place in the world in which to bring up a young child. And the debts diminished so slowly. She couldn’t believe how slowly.

‘I take it you could start immediately, Mrs Allen, should you be offered the post?’

Kim had been so entrenched in the morass of the past that her eyes were almost bewildered when she raised them to meet Lucas Kane’s.

‘Yes, I… Yes.’ Pull yourself together and act like the efficient secretary he’s looking for, she told herself bitterly. You can’t afford to be choosy about who you work for, even though you disliked this man on sight. Not that she had any chance of securing the post; he had made that very clear.

‘And would you accept the position, should it be offered?’ he asked softly.

She stared at him, her stomach muscles tightening as she acknowledged again that she felt he was playing with her. And she had had enough of that—manipulation, half-truths, deceit—to last her a lifetime.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I should have mentioned the salary before now.’ His voice was very cool as he mentioned a figure that was three times as much as she had been getting at Curtis & Brackley.

Kim gaped at him. She knew her mouth was partly open, that was the worst of it, but she was too stunned to do anything about it.

‘I believe in paying the best for the best, Mrs Allen.’ His mouth was twisted in a quizzical smile. ‘But if you worked for me you would earn every penny; ask Miss West if you don’t believe me. I demand absolute loyalty, unquestioning allegiance to Kane Electrical… You get my drift?’

His derisive expression was mocking but in this instant Kim found she didn’t care. Her mind was turning cartwheels in working out what such a financial bonus would mean and, on top of a car, a dress allowance… But she hadn’t been offered the job. She came back to earth with a wallop.

‘I…I think with such a generous package you would be within your rights to expect complete commitment and dedication from your secretary, Mr Kane,’ she managed at last. And how!

‘You do? Good. A meeting point at last.’ His voice was very deep and quiet and for a moment the portent of his words didn’t register. And then, as the covert censure hit, Kim flushed hotly.

The silver gaze ran over her pink face, the golden-blonde of her upswept hair bringing the charcoal-brown of her eyes into greater contrast, and then Lucas Kane stood up abruptly, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he turned to look out of the huge window behind him.

‘You haven’t answered my question, Mrs Allen.’ His voice was remote, distant.

‘I haven’t?’ Her mind was whirling and for a second she couldn’t grasp what he was getting at.

‘I asked you if you would accept the position if it was offered,’ he reminded her evenly, still without turning round.

She stared at the big figure in front of her, part of her mind conceding that he must be one of the tallest men she had ever met and certainly the most disturbing, and then she found herself saying, ‘Yes, I would accept it, Mr Kane, if it was offered.’

He was quite still for another moment and then he turned, slowly, to glance at her still sitting primly on the chair in front of the desk.

She was one hell of a beautiful woman. The thought came from nowhere and he found it intensely irritating. Beautiful, but with an air of wary vulnerability one moment and steel-like hardness the next. Nothing about her seemed to add up and he was sure she was keeping plenty from him—as far as skeletons in the cupboard went he wouldn’t be surprised if she had several rooms full of them.

From all she had said it sounded as though the kid was nothing more than an appendage to her life; women like her should never have children of their own. It was a sweeping statement and he recognised it as such, which further irritated him.

Damn it all, he knew nothing about her and her private life was no concern of his. As long as she did her job, that was all he was interested in. The thought caught him, tightening his mouth still more. Anyone would think he was offering her the job and he still had two of the other applicants to see yet, one of whom appeared to be a second June—if that were possible.

‘So, thank you for attending this interview, Mrs Allen, and we’ll be in touch within a day or two.’

It was a clear dismissal and Kim rose immediately to her feet, only to find she didn’t quite know what to do with the coffee cup.

‘May I…?’ He moved round the desk and again she felt that little curling in her insides as the sheer breadth and height of him dwarfed her. At five foot ten she wasn’t used to feeling so tiny and it was disconcerting to say the least.

‘Thank you.’ As he reached for the coffee cup she was careful not to let her fingers touch his although she couldn’t for the life of her have explained why. He was so close now she caught the faintest whiff of delicious and probably wildly expensive aftershave, and the effect of it on her sensitised nerves was enough to make her take a hasty step backwards, almost falling over the chair behind her as she did so.

Great. That was all she needed. Wouldn’t he just love it if she fell flat on her face in front of him? It was enough to put iron in her backbone and a tight smile on her face as she gathered up her bag and coat, and said steadily, ‘Goodbye, Mr Kane. I’ll wait to hear from you.’ And they both knew exactly what his decision would be, didn’t they? she added with silent bitterness.

‘Goodbye, Mrs Allen.’ There was a bite to the words; he had obviously noticed her involuntary recoil and hadn’t appreciated it, Kim thought wretchedly, humiliation adding more depth to the colour staining her cheeks.

The two or three steps to the interconnecting door seemed like miles, but then she was outside in June West’s office and Kim was amazed how utterly normal everything seemed. She had just endured one of the most—no, probably the most—unnerving experiences of her life and June West was sitting typing away at her word processor as though nothing had happened. But then she dealt with Lucas Kane every day of her life. The thought was astounding and Kim found herself looking at the other woman with new respect as she made her goodbyes and escaped to the lift.

What had made her say she would take the post if it was offered? As the lift whisked her silently downwards, Kim stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall in horror. Well, she knew why—filthy lucre! She gave a weak grin and the dark-eyed girl staring at her grinned back.

Not that her agreement was any cause for concern—Lucas Kane was as likely to offer her the job as a trip to the moon. She nodded to the thought, faintly comforted but still trembling slightly.

She didn’t know how anyone could survive working for such a man; he was too cold, too ruthless and overtly powerful to be human.

But the money was good. She shut her eyes for a second, thinking of the speed in which the remainder of Graham’s debts could be settled if she had a salary like the one Lucas Kane had mentioned coming in every month. She and Melody could think about moving out of the grotty little bedsit they were forced to call home, and with a car—a BMW, he had said, hadn’t he?—travelling would be a pleasure.

The lift glided to a halt and her eyes snapped open. Enough daydreaming. She stepped into the foyer and walked determinedly towards the far doors without looking to left or right. It wasn’t going to happen—furthermore, she didn’t want it to happen, she told herself firmly.

She would soon get another job and eventually, one day, she would be clear of the burden which hung like a great millstone round her neck. And she had Melody. She thought of her daughter’s sweet little face and felt a flood of love sweep through her, dispelling all the heartache. Yes, she had Melody, and compared to Lucas Kane with all his millions that made her the richest woman on earth.

CHAPTER TWO

‘SO, ALL in all an unmitigated disaster, then?’ Maggie said with forced brightness. ‘Never mind, pet; on to the next one, eh? I get the car back from the garage tomorrow, so if you want to borrow it you can. Friday’s the next interview, isn’t it?’

Kim nodded. She was standing drinking a hasty cup of coffee in Maggie’s ultra-modern kitchen before she left to pick up Melody from the Octopus club her daughter attended after school. ‘At the accountant’s on the corner of the street where I live, actually,’ she answered with matching brightness, ‘so I shan’t need the car. The accountant’s would be much handier than Kane Electrical, travel-wise.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And it’s a small place—just three or four work there, I think—so it’s bound to be friendlier than a big firm like Kane’s.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Oh, Maggie.’ Kim put down her flamboyant mug painted with enormous red cherries abruptly and stared into her friend’s bright blue eyes. ‘All that money, and a car and everything.’

‘Don’t forget Lucas Kane goes with the deal.’ Maggie was trying to find something positive to say about the lost chance of the century.

‘I could put up with him,’ Kim answered miserably. ‘If it meant being able to move out of the bedsit and get somewhere with a garden for Melody I could put up with just about anything.’

‘I know.’ Maggie put a sympathetic hand on Kim’s arm for a moment. ‘But anyone has only got to see you two together for a minute to know that Melody has something all the money in the world can’t buy. There’s an awful lot of kids with gardens and a nursery full of toys who have rotten childhoods, lass, with parents who don’t give a damn.’

Maggie’s Northern accent was always at its strongest when she was in earnest about something, and now Kim smiled into the round homely face as she said, ‘Thanks, Maggie. You’re one in a million.’

‘Just repeat that in Pete’s ear, would you? Loudly!’

Pete was Maggie’s boyfriend of five years’ standing who was incredibly inventive in avoiding any mention of commitment and settling down, much to Maggie’s increasing exasperation. He worked as a stockbroker—a successful one, by all accounts—and occupied the flat above Maggie’s, which was how the two of them had first met.

‘I thought you were going to have a chat with him over the weekend? Lay it on the line about how you feel?’ Kim said quietly, forgetting her own troubles for a moment as she looked into Maggie’s sky-blue gaze. Pete commuted into London every day and arrived back at the flat well after eight each night, so any serious talking was always left until the weekends.

‘I was.’ Maggie shrugged her meaty shoulders disconsolately. ‘But he wasn’t feeling well—a touch of flu, I think—and I was snowed under with work anyway, so it perhaps wasn’t the right time.’

Maggie was an interior designer and her star was rising in the career sense if not in her lovelife.

‘He doesn’t know how lucky he is, that’s the trouble,’ Kim said stoutly, finishing the last of the coffee in one gulp and placing the mug on Maggie’s gleaming worktop.

‘I’ve been thinking the same thing myself,’ Maggie agreed wryly. ‘Working from home is great in all sorts of ways but he knows I’m always here, no matter what, just waiting for him to come back from the City. The way he carries on sometimes, you’d think he was a Viking returning from a far distant land—he’s such a drama queen! In his opinion, he’s the high-flyer taking chances, on the cutting edge and all that, and I’m good old dependable Maggie with nothing to do but get ready with his pipe and slippers.’

‘The short, sharp shock treatment might wake him up, if you can think of something not too life-threatening,’ Kim advised with a grin. ‘I’m sure he does love you, Maggie.’

‘Ah, but how much, lass—that’s the sixty-four dollar question, isn’t it? I’m getting on for thirty; I can’t wait around for ever!’

‘I must go; Melody will be out soon.’ Kim gave Maggie a quick hug and made for the door. ‘Ring me later if you fancy a chat.’

‘Even if it’s just to moan about Pete?’

‘Course. What else are friends for?’

Kim found herself sprinting the last hundred yards or so along the cold streets to the school, although there was no need; she was in plenty of time. She had always made sure—no matter how hectic or difficult her day or how heavy her workload—that either she or Maggie was there before time to pick up Melody.

Melody’s huge, thickly lashed brown eyes were searching for her the second her daughter walked out of the school doors, and as the small face lit up and a little red-mittened hand waved frantically Kim felt a lump in her throat at the unabashed love on the tiny face so like her own.

‘Mummy! Mummy!’ Melody fairly flew across the playground and into Kim’s waiting arms. ‘Guess what? I’m going to be Mary in the Nativity and have a white dress and tinsel in my hair. Mrs Jones picked me specially.’

‘That’s wonderful, darling.’

‘She said she can trust me not to be silly,’ Melody continued solemnly. ‘Cory Chambers was very silly today; she stuck a crayon up her nose and Mrs Jones couldn’t get it down and Cory was crying her head off. Mrs Jones had to get her mummy.’

The chatter continued during the ten-minute walk to their bedsit, situated in a terraced street which was grim by any standards. A young married couple and several students occupied the other four bedsits the narrow, three-storey house contained, with a shared bathroom for all occupants on the top floor next to Kim’s room.

The fact that the bathroom was right next door for Melody and that their elevated position cut out the possibility of noisy neighbours overhead were two small advantages in their somewhat miserable surroundings, but Kim fought a constant war against mould and damp, ancient plumping and poor lighting. It wasn’t so bad in the summer, but the two winters they had spent at the house had been abysmal.

Kim had made their home as bright and attractive as she could with the minimum of expenditure, making bright red curtains and a matching duvet cover and cushions for the bed-settee she shared with Melody, and scattering several rugs over the threadbare carpet, but nothing could hide the general run-down ambience of the old building.

Once home, and with Melody settled in front of the fire with a glass of milk and a biscuit, happily watching her favourite TV programme, Kim set about preparing the evening meal. But in spite of all her efforts to the contrary she found she was constantly replaying every minute of the interview earlier that day over and over in her mind.

It had been a travesty. Her eyes narrowed and she sliced a hapless carrot with uncharacteristic savageness. From the second her eyes had met those of Lucas Kane in the reception area she hadn’t stood a chance. The moment she had seen who was seated behind that desk she should have turned right round and marched out with her head held high. Instead… She gritted her teeth and another carrot met the same fate as the first.

Instead she had sat there and answered his barbed questions as though she wanted his precious job, and let him walk all over her in the process.

No—no, she hadn’t, she argued in the next instant. He hadn’t had it all his own way, and besides, she did want the job. She wanted it so much she ached with it—or, rather, she wanted what the position as secretary to the chairman and managing director of Kane Electrical would do for Melody, for them both.

But it wasn’t going to happen. She added two pieces of chicken breast to the vegetables and popped the casserole in the dilapidated oven the bedsit boasted. And in spite of the huge financial rewards it was probably just as well. She couldn’t even begin to imagine herself working for Lucas Kane.

At eight that evening, when the telephone rang in the hall downstairs and Juliana—one of the students—banged on Kim’s door to say a Mr Lucas of Kane Electrical was asking for her, Kim found herself having to do just that very thing.

‘This is Mrs Allen.’ She didn’t like the fact that her voice was so breathless but hoped he would put it down to the fact that she lived on the top floor—something Juliana had apparently pointed out to him, according to the raven-haired Italian girl.

‘Lucas Kane, Mrs Allen.’ The deep husky tones were just as compelling over the telephone and she could just picture him, eyes like silver ice and mouth a hard line in the darkly attractive face, sitting at that massive desk in what must now be a deserted office block. Not that he had to be there, of course, she amended silently. He could be calling her from home, wherever that was. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything—you don’t have guests?’

Guests? Once she and Melody were ensconced in the limited space within the bedsit, there was barely room to swing a cat, Kim thought drily. ‘No, Mr Kane, I don’t have guests.’ Her voice was better this time; less of the Marilyn Monroe and more of a Katharine Hepburn briskness to it.

‘Good.’ It was cold and crisp, very much like the man himself. ‘I’m ringing you to offer you the job, Mrs Allen,’ he said, without any preamble. ‘If you haven’t changed your mind, of course.’

‘I… You—’ Pull yourself together, woman, she told herself silently. He’s obviously looking for a secretary who can string two words together! ‘That’s wonderful, Mr Kane,’ she managed faintly.

‘Then you accept?’

‘Yes—yes, I do, and thank you. Thank you very much indeed.’ She forced herself to stop babbling, realising she had gone from one extreme to the other, and took a long breath before she said more slowly, ‘When would you like me to start, Mr Kane?’

‘Well, that was one of the points in your favour, Mrs Allen, the fact that you can begin immediately,’ he said coolly. ‘June is understandably anxious to join her fiancé as soon as she can and oversee the arrangements, the wedding being in the spring, but even allowing for the possibility you are an exceptionally quick learner—’ did she detect a note of covert sarcasm there, Kim wondered, or was she getting paranoid about this man? ‘—it will take several weeks to pick up all the strings.’

‘You want me to start tomorrow?’ she asked with a calm she was far from feeling.