Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

Excitement and anticipation buoying her up, the morning passed quite quickly, and even her afternoon visit to the nursing home didn’t seem quite so fraught as usual. For the first time in what seemed an age, happiness was crowding out guilt. Or at least masking it.

By a quarter past seven that evening, showered, dressed and lightly made-up, Madeleine was ready and waiting. Standing by the window, she watched as a silver Porsche drew up by the kerb promptly at seven-thirty, and Rafe jumped out. He looked breathtakingly handsome in well-cut evening clothes, and she wondered if she was underdressed for Annabel’s.

Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she let him ring the bell before picking up her evening purse and going to open the door.

He smiled at her. ‘Ready?’

Madeleine nodded. ‘Will I do?’ she asked a shade anxiously.

His glance swept over her from head to toe.

She was wearing a simple black dress that clung lovingly to her slender curves and set off her flawless, pale gold skin. Her blonde hair was taken up in a gleaming coil that served to emphasise her pure bone structure, and in her neat lobes were small gold hoops.

A light in his eyes, he said, ‘You look stunning,’ and bent his dark head to kiss her.

Her heart leapt in her breast, and she knew he held everything she was, everything she hoped for, in the palm of his hand.

It was a beautiful evening, warm and still, and she could smell roses in the heart of town as she was escorted to the car.

When she was settled, he slid in beside her and started the engine. As they left the square behind them and joined the evening queue of traffic, he queried lightly, ‘Missed me?’

The true answer was yes, but she said primly, ‘I haven’t had time.’

‘So what have you been doing all day?’

‘Nothing very exciting. I spent most of the morning cleaning and shopping.’

‘But you went out in the afternoon? Anywhere nice?’

Flustered by the question, she said, ‘No, not particularly.’ She had meant to sound casual, but it came out as defensive, and she bit her lip.

Intrigued by her tone, he wondered what she was hiding. Deciding not to push it—he’d find out when he knew her better—he changed tack.

‘What made you decide to become a physiotherapist?’

She relaxed, glad to chat about her work. ‘You might call it following in my father’s footsteps. Physiotherapy was his chosen profession, and it was widely acknowledged that he had healing hands. When I was a child he became prominent in his field, and so much in demand that he turned into a workaholic.’

‘So you didn’t see much of him?’ Rafe questioned.

‘No.’ There was a remembered hint of sadness. ‘When he wasn’t at his consulting rooms in Baker Street, he was often in the States giving lecture tours.’

‘Why the States? Any particular reason?’

‘My father’s American by birth. He was brought up and had done his early training in Boston.’

‘So you’re half American? Any relatives over there?’ he asked.

‘Just an aunt and uncle we used to visit. They were always delighted to see us.’ Madeleine smiled as she reminisced.

Rafe asked no further questions, and they lapsed into silence until the Porsche drew up outside the famous basement entrance in Berkeley Square.

When he had helped her out, he handed the keys to the doorman and they made their way down the steps and in through a door at the bottom.

‘Good evening, Mr Lombard. Nice to see you.’ Clearly well-known, Rafe was welcomed inside.

As he signed in he was greeted by a couple who looked inclined to attach themselves, until he said with smooth politeness, ‘Well, if you’ll excuse us?’ and led Madeleine away.

When they were out of earshot, he added, ‘Jo and Tom are very nice, but I wanted you all to myself tonight.’

She flushed with pleasure.

There was a mere handful of people in the bar, even fewer in the restaurant, and the dance floor was empty, its dark mirrors reflecting nothing.

‘It doesn’t get busy until later, so we’ll have plenty of time to dine in comfort and then we can dance later.’

Just the thought of being held in his arms made her temperature rise even more.

When they were settled at a table and had been given menus, he asked, ‘Is there anything in particular you fancy?’

Wanting only to watch his face in the candlelight, she shook her head. ‘You order for me.’

The order given, they were sipping an aperitif when he reached across the table and, taking her slim but strong hand, examined it.

‘You said your father had healing hands. Have you?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said honestly. ‘Nor have I my father’s sheer dedication.’

‘So you’re not a committed career woman?’ He glanced up and met her gaze.

‘Not really. I could be just as happy being a wife and mother.’

‘At the risk of sounding chauvinistic, I find that highly commendable in this materialistic age. Most of the women I’ve met have been career-orientated. Being ‘just’ a wife and mother comes a very poor second to their independence. No wonder so many men feel threatened…’

His white smile flashed suddenly. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want a brainless, compliant woman, no matter how beautiful she was, nor would I want a clinging vine…’

‘What would you want?’ She laughed.

‘An intelligent, independently minded woman who was capable of standing beside me as my equal. Yet a woman who would be willing to put her home and family before her career.’

Had he stayed single because he couldn’t find the right kind of woman? she wondered. Or was that just an excuse so he could go on playing the field?

As though he knew exactly what she was thinking, he added, ‘Someone with all those qualities isn’t easy to find. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t been in a hurry to marry.’

‘Then you intend to?’ The instant the words were out she wished them unsaid, and the warm colour rose in her cheeks.

A hint of amusement in his voice, he said, ‘Oh yes, I fully intend to…’

To Madeleine’s relief the arrival of the first course provided a welcome diversion, and during the rest of what proved to be a very enjoyable meal Rafe kept the conversation light and general.

They had reached the coffee stage before he returned to more personal matters, by asking, ‘Do you enjoy your work at the clinic?’

‘Yes. Though of course it’s just a temporary post, and part-time.’

‘You have private patients as well?’

‘Some. But by the time this job ends I’m hoping to have more,’ Madeleine said, taking a sip of her coffee.

‘Do you treat children?’ Rafe asked.

‘Oh, yes. At the moment I’m visiting a young boy who injured his knee playing football. Why do you ask?’

‘My sister, Diane, and her husband, Stuart, have a problem. A couple of months ago their ten-year-old daughter, Katie, was quite badly injured when she fell from her horse. Since leaving hospital Katie has been treated at home, but it seems she’s grown to dislike her present physiotherapist and has refused to have any further treatment. Would you be willing to take a look at her?’

A little flustered, Madeleine agreed, ‘Of course. If you think I’ll be able to help.’

‘If Katie takes to you, and I can’t imagine she won’t, you could be the answer to all our prayers…More coffee?’

‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

Rafe smiled a dazzling smile and asked. ‘Then would you like to dance?’

The club had started to fill up, and there were several couples already on the floor.

Madeleine’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes, I’d love to.’

Even in her own ears her words sounded eager and breathless, and as he took her hand and led her onto the floor she wondered where the old cool and composed Madeleine had gone.

Though it was a long time since she had been on a dance floor, she had always enjoyed dancing. But this was something special.

He was a good dancer, light on his feet and with a purely masculine grace. As he held her to his heart, his cheek against her hair, they moved round the floor as though made for each other.

For Madeleine the rest of the evening passed in a kind of dream as, without speaking, just enjoying the music and the closeness, they danced every dance.

When the floor started to get crowded, Rafe murmured in her ear, ‘About ready to go?’

She nodded, a little shiver of excitement running down her spine. She hadn’t allowed herself to think any further than dining and dancing at Annabel’s, but now the evening was over and the night lay ahead.

When she was settled in the Porsche, he turned to look directly into her eyes. ‘I shared your bed last night. Will you come to Denver Court tonight and share mine?’

A betraying catch in her voice, she agreed lightly, ‘That seems only fair.’

As they drew up outside the imposing tower-block complex and he helped her out, one of the night security staff came hurrying over.

‘Evening, Mr Lombard…Anything I can do for you?’

‘Could you put the car away, please, Jim?’ A folded note changed hands.

His arm around her waist, Rafe escorted Madeleine into the building and across the pale marble-floored foyer to the lift.

On the top floor they stepped out into a wide, luxuriously carpeted area with a white and gold decor and extravagant arrangements of fresh flowers.

When he let them into his apartment and flicked on the lights, she saw that he occupied one of the corner penthouse suites. From the spacious and attractive L-shaped living room, French windows led onto a walled patio and garden.

She gasped as she looked around her, taking in the luxurious surroundings. Rafe smiled and bent to touch his lips to the warmth of her nape, before asking, ‘Would you like a nightcap?’

Shivering a little at the caress, and impatient for the pleasures to come, she shook her head.

Taking her hand in his, he led her through to a large en suite bedroom with pale walls and a thundercloud-blue carpet and curtains.

Opening a connecting door into a similar room decorated in ivory tones, he suggested, ‘If you’d like to use the guestroom facilities you’ll find everything there you need.’

In the well-appointed bathroom there was indeed everything a guest could want, including slippers and a white towelling robe.

She found herself wondering how often he brought his women back here.

It was an uncomfortable thought, and she pushed it hastily away. This might only be another brief and casual affair as far as he was concerned, but for her it was special, a once-in-a-lifetime love affair, no matter how short a time it lasted.

When she had cleaned her teeth and showered, she brushed out her long, silky hair and, a little shy, put on the towelling robe before making her way back to Rafe’s room.

He was just emerging from his bathroom, stark naked apart from a towel slung round his neck that he was using onehanded to rub his dark hair.

As she hesitated in the doorway, tossing aside the towel, he held out both hands. ‘Come here.’

Loving that touch of arrogance, she went to him, and was rewarded with a lingering kiss.

He had shaved, and she could smell the fresh, spicy scent of his cologne. Eyes still closed, she put up a hand and stroked his smooth cheek.

‘Mmm…’ she murmured.

Nuzzling his face against her throat, he said, ‘I intend to kiss every inch of you, and bristles can play havoc with delicate skin.’

Untying the belt of her robe, he slid his hands inside and, like a blind man reading Braille, ran his fingers over her slender body, savouring the purely tactile pleasure.

It was strangely erotic, and by the time his hands returned to her breasts she was quivering all over. When his thumbs brushed lightly across the sensitive nipples, she gasped.

As he continued to tease, soon aroused to fever-pitch, she pressed her hips against his.

But, refusing to be hurried, he said, ‘We’ve got all night. Plenty of time to take things slow and easy, to ravish you, in the best sense of the word.’

She wondered how he could be so patient, so willing to wait for his own pleasure.

As though reading her mind, he said softly, ‘Your body responds so delightfully to my every touch, it makes the pleasure mutual.’

He put his mouth to her breast and laved the nipple with his tongue. ‘You like that, don’t you?’

She shuddered, and, holding his dark head between her hands, breathed, ‘Yes, but I don’t think I can stand much more…’

‘Oh, I think you can.’

When he finally lifted her onto the bed and stretched out beside her, she was almost mindless, poised on the brink.

He stoked a caressing hand down her slender figure and, finding the warm, silky skin of her inner thighs, used a single long finger to tip her over. Her whole body bucked convulsively, and she lay quivering and helpless until the exquisite sensations began to die away.

She felt a little triste. She had wanted to make love with him, to share the experience, to know he was feeling the same delight and joy she was feeling.

When she opened dazed eyes, he was watching her.

Smiling at her, as though he understood perfectly, he said, ‘It’s all right,’ and with those skilful hands he proceeded to reawaken the desire she had thought sated.

Then slowly, very slowly, as though to draw every last ounce of pleasure out of it, he made love to her, building up a molten core of heat, a spiralling tension, until the tension snapped and sent them both rocketing into space.

She drifted back to earth to find his dark head was lying on her breast and his hand holding hers. It was one of the sweetest sensations she had ever felt.

Her heart overflowing with love and gratitude she lay quietly enjoying their closeness until he moved away and, turning onto his back, gathered her against him and settled her head on his shoulder.

Chapter Three

AFTER a night OF love-making, it was almost ten o’clock when Madeleine woke. She was alone in the big bed, but just as that fact registered the door opened and Rafe came in carrying a tray.

His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing a short, navy-blue silk robe. ‘Good morning.’ He smiled lazily as she pushed herself upright. ‘I thought we’d be decadent and have breakfast in bed.’

He put the tray on the bedside table and, leaning over to kiss her, remarked wickedly, ‘After the night we’ve just spent, I don’t know how you can look so beautiful and fresh.’

‘I’m happy,’ she said simply. She had never thought she would say those words again.

He smiled at her. ‘Happiness suits you.’

As he sat on the bed and fed her toast and scrambled eggs and coffee, his voice casual, Rafe suggested, ‘Tell me some more about yourself.’

Instantly uneasy, she said, ‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’

Sensing that unease, and wondering what was causing it, he decided to go slowly. ‘Do your parents still live in London?’

‘They got divorced when I was twelve.’

‘Presumably it was your father’s dedication to work that caused the break-up.’

‘Yes. Though my mother loved him passionately, eventually she got fed up with him never being there for us.’ Madeleine turned her head away from him.

‘Was it an amicable parting?’

‘As amicable as these things ever can be.’

Rafe probed further, ‘But you must have missed him?’

‘Yes, I did, and I don’t think my mother ever really got over it.’ She felt her eyes begin to water, but she smiled as she looked up at Rafe.

‘She didn’t marry again?’

‘No. I believe she still loves him. Certainly there was never anyone else.’

‘Do you still see him?’

Madeleine shook her head. ‘Some time after the divorce he remarried and went to live in Los Angeles. We haven’t had any contact for years.’

Then, wanting to escape from the spotlight, she said quickly, ‘Now it’s your turn to tell me something about yourself.’

His face straight, he replied, ‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’ He laughed and kissed her, before beginning, ‘I lost my father when I was twelve. A year after he died, my mother married again. Her new husband was an ex-army officer.’

‘Did you all get on as a family?’

‘Diane, who’s seven years older than me, was away at university, so that left just the three of us, and unfortunately my stepfather and I didn’t get along. I resented him taking my father’s place and showed it, which, with hindsight, must have made life extremely difficult for my mother. My stepfather was a strict disciplinarian and after he’d whacked me a couple of times for what he termed insolence, I began to seriously hate his guts.’ Rafe paused for a moment before continuing.

‘Things went from bad to worse, and the whacks changed to beatings. On the final occasion, when he began to lay into me with his belt, my mother tried to intervene. He pushed her out of the way so roughly that she stumbled and fell. I saw red and went for him. I wasn’t quite fourteen at the time.’

Her aquamarine eyes full of concern, Madeleine asked, ‘What happened?’

Matter-of-factly, he said, ‘I managed to split his lip before ending up in Casualty.’

As she winced he added, ‘I think he may have been genuinely sorry afterwards. But it was patently obvious that things couldn’t go on like that, so I was hastily packed off to live with my godparents.’

Madeleine reached out to touch his arm. ‘Were you very upset?’

‘For a time I was very bitter,’ he admitted. ‘Though my godparents were amazing.’

‘Had they any children of their own?’

‘One daughter, Fiona. But they had always hoped for a son, and were only too delighted to have me.’

‘Fiona wasn’t jealous at all?’

His face softened. ‘Oh, no. We got to be very close. In fact for a while she hero-worshipped me. She was nearly three years younger than me, and I always called her my kid sister.’

‘So it was a good move?’

‘Oh, yes. The whole family treated me exactly like their own, and I was very happy with them until I went up to Oxford. My godfather died eighteen months ago and it was like losing a father…

‘But that’s enough doom and gloom—let’s talk about something else. What shall we do for the rest of the day? Would you like to—’

‘I can’t,’ she broke in desperately. On Sundays she always had lunch at the nursing home, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening there. ‘I mean, I’m already going out.’

When she made no effort to elaborate, he asked, ‘What time do you need to start?’

‘In about an hour.’

‘Then as soon as you’ve showered and dressed, I’ll take you home.’ Though his voice was even, she knew he was vexed by her reticence, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her mother. He was sure to ask questions that, burdened with guilt, she didn’t want to answer.

His profile cool and aloof, he drove through the Sunday streets in silence. She longed to break that silence, but could think of nothing to say.

When he drew up outside her flat and, still without speaking, helped her out, she felt a sudden panic in case this was the end.

What would she do if he simply drove away?

As though to keep her guessing, he unlocked her door and handed her back the key, before asking, ‘Are you free tomorrow evening?’

‘Yes,’ she said eagerly.

‘Then if you like, I’ll take you to see Katie and her parents. I’ve already mentioned your name to them.’

‘There’s just one thing…’ Madeleine began a shade awkwardly.

Reading her hesitation, he said, ‘You prefer to keep your private and professional lives separate?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘That’s fine by me. All they know up to now is that you’re the physiotherapist who checked me out, and we can keep it that way. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, and afterwards we can have dinner.’

Madeleine liked Rafe’s sister and brother-in-law on sight. Over drinks on the sunny terrace of their Surrey home she learnt that Diane, with her brother’s seal-dark hair and green eyes, was a lawyer, and Stuart, a pleasant, easy-going man, worked as an architect.

They both doted on their only daughter and were over the moon when Katie took an immediate liking to Madeleine, and agreed to have further treatment.

The liking was mutual. Madeleine instantly lost her heart to the quiet, sensitive child, with her long dark hair, her big brown eyes and shy smile.

Over the next few weeks, with regular treatments, Katie’s condition improved enormously, and a strong bond developed between her and Madeleine.

Rafe was delighted for everyone’s sake, but he stayed well out of things and, though his and Madeleine’s relationship grew and blossomed, it was never mentioned.

They spent as much time with one another as possible, dancing, dining, talking, simply being together.

Several times, while the good weather held, he barbecued for them on his patio. Afterwards, safe from prying eyes, they made sweet, delectable love in the sun.

As the days and weeks passed and Madeleine got to know him better, her happiness increased. Apart from his physical attributes and his prowess as a lover, he proved to be eventempered and generous, an intelligent, stimulating companion, always sensitive to her needs.

She knew that never in her lifetime would she find another man who suited her so well, and, eternally grateful, she said many a prayer of thanks to the goddess of destiny for the miracle that had brought him into her life.

Only her visits to the nursing home cast a shadow. Rafe said nothing openly, but she knew he was ruffled by her unexplained absences. Even a little jealous of whom she might be meeting.

Each time she tried to tell him the truth guilt made the words stick in her throat, and she chickened out. But one of these days, she promised herself, she would find the courage to tell him everything.

In the meantime, though she still spent most of Sunday at the nursing home, she had changed her Saturday visit to the morning—struggling with the shopping and housework when she could—to leave the afternoon free.

That Saturday afternoon they had something very special planned. Jonathan Cass was one of her favourite artists, and Rafe had accepted an invitation to a one-day private showing of Cass’s new, and so far unseen, works.

He had arranged to pick her up at twelve-thirty so they could have lunch together before going on to the Piccadilly gallery, and she left the nursing home earlier than usual to make certain she was home in good time.

She was only just back when the phone rang.

Sounding tense, unlike himself, Rafe said, ‘Some urgent business has cropped up. Would you mind very much if I picked you up after lunch?’

‘Of course not.’

Sounding relieved, he said, ‘Then I’ll see you about two.’

It had been a damp, grey morning, and by two o’clock it was pelting down with rain.

Rafe was always on time—she had never known him to be late—and as the hands of the clock moved with maddening slowness—two-fifteen, two-thirty, a quarter to three—and he failed to arrive, she began to get anxious and jumpy.

As she stood staring blindly out into the wet, windswept square, watching the raindrops run down the windowpane like tears, she saw the ghost of his face blurry in the glass and felt a queer foreboding.

Oh, dear God, suppose something had happened to him? The panicky thought made her heart begin to race uncomfortably fast.

Don’t be a fool, she chided herself. Of course nothing had happened to him. No doubt he’d just been held up. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he phoned? It would have only taken a moment to reassure her.

After waiting until three-thirty without hearing from him she called his mobile, only to find it was switched off. In desperation she tried his flat at Denver Court, but it rang hollow and empty, until the answering machine picked up her call.