Taming the Rebel Tycoon: Wife by Approval / Dating the Rebel Tycoon / The Playboy Takes a Wife

She was more than merely beautiful.

Much more.

She was bewitching, haunting, a fascinating contradiction. Despite that passionate mouth, she had an air of innocence, of vulnerability that, however false, had got under his skin the instant he saw her. And that could be dangerous.

He shrugged off the thought.

Being attracted to her was all very well so long as he kept in mind what his goal was and didn’t allow that attraction to affect his judgement.

Over the past few weeks he had considered several courses of action. But, thinking it would be easier to judge when he knew her better, he had been waiting to decide exactly how to play it, which would be his best option.

In the end, however, things had moved so fast that he’d had no time for a leisurely appraisal.

Still, most of his plans were in place, even his final contingency plan. Which, because of the time element, he was now going to have to go with.

If he could bring it off.

There was no if about it. He had to bring it off.

But, having seen her at close quarters, he knew that taking her to bed would be no hardship. In fact the mere prospect made his blood quicken.

Of course, if he could get her emotionally involved, make her fall in love with him, it would ease his task enormously.

Experience told him that she was already attracted to him, though oddly enough she wasn’t giving out the kind of overt signals he would have expected from a woman like her.

He knew from the reports he’d received that she was, to put it mildly, a child of her times and, despite her air of naivety, he found it almost impossible to believe that she had any scruples or inhibitions.

But, as time was short and he was unwilling to take any chances, it would do no harm to make certain that if she had, they were well and truly banished…

Tina glanced up and, thrown by the expression of almost savage intensity and purpose on his face, asked jerkily, ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Wrong? Of course not.’

His voice sounded quite normal and the expression that had startled her was gone as if it had never been. Realising it must have been a trick of the firelight, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Straightening, he asked easily, ‘Another drink?’

‘Please.’

Taking her glass and moving over to the drinks table, he said, ‘I suggest this time you try it with a secret ingredient.’

Curiously, she asked, ‘What is the secret ingredient?’

He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘I have to confess that it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Merely a dash of Cointreau.’

She laughed and took a sip of the drink he handed her. As he stood looking down at her, she saw for the first time that his eyes weren’t simply brown, as she’d thought, but a dark green flecked with gold. Handsome tawny eyes, with long heavy lids and thick curly lashes.

As she gazed up at him, he took the glass from her hand and set in down on the low table. Then, stooping unhurriedly and as if—rather than obeying a sudden impulse—he knew exactly what he was doing and could take all the time in the world to do it, he kissed her mouth.

She had been held closely and kissed many times. But never like that. Without holding her in any way, with only their lips touching, his kiss held everything she had ever wanted—warmth, tenderness, passion, sweetness. It both gave and took, coaxed and effortlessly mastered.

When finally he lifted his head and drew away, she felt radiant, enchanted.

Satisfaction in his voice, he remarked, ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first moment I caught sight of you standing there in the rain.’

Though—now she had seen his house—common sense told her he was right out of her league as far as any serious relationship went, she was filled with pleasure and excitement. He’d felt the same kind of instant attraction that she’d felt and, for the moment at least, that was enough.

Though it could lead nowhere.

And it was dangerous.

Especially if Richard had seduction on his mind. And, after the way he had kissed her, she could no longer rule that out.

But she wasn’t one to have affairs or indulge in casual sex, so if he did intend to try and seduce her, she would just have to stay cool and uninterested.

Cool and uninterested! Who was she trying to kid?

So she would have to appear to be cool and uninterested. In the past she had always been good at quietly freezing men off, she reminded herself. But then she had been genuinely uninterested or, for one reason or another, unwilling to take that particular relationship any further.

Though it was old-fashioned, almost ludicrous in this modern age, she had been brought up to believe that love and commitment went hand in hand and that sex should belong within the framework of marriage.

It hadn’t made her narrow-minded or critical of other people’s behaviour. It was simply a standard that had been set for her and that she had so far adhered to.

While some of her friends laughed and said she was mad and others admired her, Ruth had suggested it was because she had never been seriously tempted. ‘No, I haven’t forgotten Kevin,’ she had said, ‘but while he was tall, dark and handsome, he obviously hadn’t got what it takes to turn you on.

‘It’s a jolly good thing you didn’t marry him,’ she had added seriously, ‘otherwise you might have ended up just going through the motions and missing out on one of life’s most wonderful experiences…’

‘Penny for them…’

Richard’s voice brought Tina back to the present.

Her cheeks growing warm, she stammered, ‘I—I was just thinking about something my friend said.’

‘You’re not angry that I kissed you?’

She shook her head.

Sounding confident, he added, ‘And I take it there’s no current boyfriend to object?’

A little piqued by that assumption, she said, ‘What if there is?’

With a kind of wry self-mockery, he told her, ‘If there is I’ll have to wrest you from him…’

She had the strangest feeling that he would be prepared to wrest her from the archangel Gabriel himself should it prove necessary.

‘Is there?’

She shook her head.

‘But you didn’t like me assuming that?’ he queried shrewdly.

‘As it happens, my fiancé and I split up earlier in the year.’

He raised a brow, not expecting her to have had such a serious past relationship. ‘How long were you engaged?’

‘About three months.’

‘Officially?’ he queried.

‘You mean did I have a ring?’

He looked casually down at her left hand. ‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who broke things off?’ Richard queried.

‘I did,’ Tina answered.

‘Why?’

She paused, then looked up at him. ‘I caught him playing around with another woman.’

‘Do you still love him?’

‘No, I don’t,’ she said, and knew it was the truth.

‘But you still feel upset about it?’

She had until now. Though it wasn’t so much that it had happened as the way it had happened.

Realising he was waiting for an answer, she said, ‘I did at first, but now it no longer matters.’

Suddenly wondering if her words had been too revealing and feeling uncomfortable, she began to sip her drink once more.

Nursing his whisky and soda, Richard sat down on the other side of the hearth and changed the subject with smooth aplomb. ‘I understand the sunny summer and autumn they’ve had on the Continent has helped to produce an excellent grape harvest…’

While they talked about the good weather they’d been enjoying and the climate in general, though he barely touched his own drink, an attentive host, he refilled her glass once more.

At length he rose and, having put some fresh logs on the fire, remarked, ‘We’d better get something to eat before you starve to death.’

As they walked to the door, he told her, ‘The dining-room is at the other end of the hall.’ Adding, as she favoured her injured ankle, ‘Can you manage?’

A little flustered, she said, ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’

‘Sure? I can see your left ankle’s swollen and I’ve noticed you limping from time to time.’

‘I’m sure I can manage, thank you.’

The gold and ivory dining-room was elegant, the table laid with cut glass and porcelain, while a bottle of wine encased in a silver cool-jacket waited to be poured.

Dinner, though simple, proved to be most enjoyable. Richard played the part of host with panache, filling Tina’s plate and helping her to some of the excellent white wine.

Somewhat to her relief, he chose impersonal topics of conversation and as they ate they discussed books, music, art and the theatre. It didn’t take long to discover that their tastes matched in most things and they both much preferred reading to watching television.

‘I sometimes think television is the bane of modern living,’ he observed, ‘especially when the set takes over the room and becomes the focus of it.’

She agreed entirely and said so.

By the time the leisurely meal came to an end and Tina had finished her second glass of wine, starting to feel distinctly light-headed, she elected to take her coffee black and refused a liqueur.

It was getting late by the time their cups were empty but, knowing it made sense not to rush this part, he led the way back to the study.

Having stirred the glowing fire into life and settled her in front of it, he suggested, ‘Let’s have a small nightcap before we turn in.’

As, hazily happy just to be here with him, she was gazing into the flames, he handed her a balloon glass containing a swirl of golden cognac. Then, taking a seat opposite, he raised his own glass in a kind of toast and took a sip.

When she followed suit, he asked conversationally, ‘How did you hurt your ankle?’

‘I slipped when I was getting out of the shower.’

‘Hardly a good start to Friday the thirteenth,’ he commented dryly, ‘and I gather things didn’t improve very much?’

‘Not a lot,’ she said and, when he waited expectantly, went on to tell him about having a flat tyre and being late for work.

‘Then at lunch time I discovered I’d forgotten to pack any sandwiches…’

He shook his head sympathetically. ‘And, after losing your lunch, you end the day with a badly damaged car and no job.’

Though having no job still had to be a major worry, it didn’t seem half so bad now she was sitting opposite Richard, sleepily watching the flickering firelight turn his face into a changing mask of highlights and shadows.

Hoping she hadn’t sounded sorry for herself, she said hardily, ‘But it could be worse. Mr DeVere has promised me a good reference, so it shouldn’t take too long to find another position.’

‘I presume you know a lot about wine?’

‘Quite a lot,’ she said simply. ‘Otherwise I couldn’t have done my job.’

Studying her reflectively, he queried, ‘Any idea where tonight’s wine came from?’

‘France,’ she answered without hesitation. ‘I’d say the Loire Valley.’

‘Can you put a name to it?’

Recognising that she was a bit squiffy, she said cautiously, ‘Yes, I believe so.’

When he waited, one eyebrow slightly raised, she correctly named both the wine and the year.

Looking surprised, he remarked, ‘Surely you weren’t able to learn how to identify the area and the vintage merely from tutorials and course work?’

Sensing faint disparagement, she said, ‘No, of course not.’ Then, realising that she was starting to slur her words, she made an effort to enunciate more clearly. ‘That has to come from the hands-on side, the bouquet and tasting…’

She stopped speaking, feeling dazed, overcome by tiredness. All she wanted to do at that moment was lie down and go to sleep.

Watching her trying to keep her eyes open, he said, ‘You look more than ready for bed.’

He rose and in one lithe movement put the fireguard in place.

‘I’m sorry…’ she began.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s been a long, eventful day…’

He was right about that, she thought as she struggled to her feet.

‘Need any help?’ he queried.

‘No, no…I’m fine,’ she lied as, limping, she wove her way somewhat unsteadily to the door. Oh, why had she accepted that cognac? She should have had more sense.

Having bided his time until she reached the hall, he said firmly, ‘I think I’d better carry you.’

Not at all sure that she’d heard him aright, she echoed, ‘Carry me?’

‘Carry you,’ he repeated firmly.

Going hot all over at the thought of being held in his arms and cradled against that broad chest, she stammered, ‘R-really there’s no need. I can manage quite well.’

Her normally low, slightly husky voice sounded agitated and squeaky.

Ignoring the assurance, he stooped and effortlessly lifted her high in his arms.

With a little gasp, she begged, ‘Please put me down.’ Adding distractedly, ‘What on earth will your housekeeper think if she sees us?’

Looking unperturbed, he said, ‘No one will see us.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because Jervis, the chauffeur and handyman, lives at the rear above the garages, and Gwen, who used to be a nurse, is staying at the centre overnight. Old Tom, one of her “regulars”, is just recovering from a bad bout of flu, so she’s remaining on hand in case he needs her.’

‘Oh,’ Tina said in a small voice.

As he crossed the hall and began to climb the stairs, Richard smiled down at her and added with soft emphasis, ‘So you see, we’re all alone.’

CHAPTER THREE

ALLalone.

Just for a second Tina had the absurd feeling that she’d walked into a trap.

There had been something in his voice, his choice of words—satisfaction? a touch of menace?—that made her heart start to thump against her ribs and a shiver run through her.

Noticing that betraying movement, Richard glanced down at her. ‘There’s no need to look so scared—’ now his tone was reassuringly normal ‘—I haven’t lured you here to imprison you in the cellar or lock you in the attic…’

Suddenly feeling foolish, she denied, ‘I never thought you had.’

‘Though I do have plans for you.’

The rider, though added jokingly, brought a touch of alarm.

‘Plans?’ she said thickly. ‘What kind of plans?’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll like what I have in mind.’

Realising that he was teasing her, her head spinning, she let it go.

He carried her easily and when they reached the top of the stairs there was still no sign of him being out of breath.

As well as strong, he must be very fit.

Virile was the word that sprang to mind. It was a word that immediately produced some erotic images…

Shocked by her own thoughts, she told herself hazily that this wasn’t like her. It must be alcohol swamping her inhibitions. Normally she drank very little and the amount she’d had tonight, some of it on an empty stomach, had gone straight to her head. As he crossed the landing and fumbled briefly to open her bedroom door, everything began to whirl gently round her and she closed her eyes.

Crossing to the bed, he pulled back the duvet and laid her down, supporting her head while he unfastened the clip that held her heavy coil of hair in place.

As the silken mass tumbled around her shoulders, he settled her head on the pillows and, sitting down beside her, slipped off her shoes.

She lay like a beautiful doll, her eyes closed, the long lashes making dark gold fans on her cheeks, her soft lips a little parted, the lovely creamy column of her throat exposed, vulnerable.

It was obvious that the alcohol had done its work too well and she was almost out for the count.

Frowning, he realised that she couldn’t be as used to drinking as he’d been led to believe. It had been his intention to get rid of any possible inhibitions, not to make her practically incapable and he felt like a heel.

However, he couldn’t afford too many scruples. Everything he held dear was at stake. If he’d been certain she would be reasonable…

But he couldn’t be certain. It would depend entirely on what kind of woman she really was, and he wouldn’t know that until he knew her better.

By that time it would be too late.

So he needed to go through with it.

As he made the decision, she opened her eyes.

Smiling down at her, he started to undo the buttons of her dress.

He had reached her waist when, pushing herself up groggily and brushing his hands away, she said hoarsely, ‘It’s all right…I can manage.’

‘Sure?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘But you would like me to stay.’ He made it sound as if it had all been decided.

The true answer was yes.

But even in her tipsy state she knew that all he wanted was a one-night stand and, making an effort to stick with her long-held principles, she started to shake her head.

It was a mistake and, as the world began to spin once more, she closed her eyes and mumbled, ‘I’d like you to go.’

‘Then I’ll say goodnight.’ He leaned forward and kissed her.

The light pressure of his lips against hers was enough to make her sink back against the pillows.

His mouth still keeping contact, he followed her down and, when her lips parted helplessly, he deepened the kiss until her head was whirling even more and her whole being melted.

Without conscious volition, her arms went round his neck and she was holding on to him as if he were the only stable object worth anything in her world…

Her brain came to life slowly, consciousness ebbing and flowing. As she lay with closed eyes, she became aware that she was unusually warm and comfortable on the rather uncomfortable put-you-up.

And, what was even more unusual, her hair was loose around her shoulders—normally she braided it—and she was naked. Why wasn’t she wearing her nightdress? Unable to think, she let the thought go and drifted off again.

It was the sound of a shower running that eventually began to penetrate her stupefied state.

Ruth must be up early this morning. Usually she was last in the bathroom, preferring to breakfast in her dressing gown even on a weekday.

But surely this was the weekend? Hadn’t it been Friday yesterday?

Friday the thirteenth and everything had gone wrong…

Like a tide carrying flotsam, the events of the day washed into her mind and for a moment or two she sorted dazedly through them until she found the one thing that mattered above all else.

She had met Richard Anders.

The recollection banished sleep and focused her attention. A moment later, memory filled in the details with a rush.

The car accident, the invitation to go home with him, the drive to Pemberley Square, his kiss in the study, dinner together, brandy in front of the fire…Then him carrying her upstairs after saying with a strange intonation in his voice, ‘So you see we’re all alone.’

He had taken her into her room, laid her on the bed and kissed her goodnight…

But she had a vague memory of wanting him to stay, of kissing him back and putting her arms around his neck…Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright.

She was briefly aware that the room was light, sunshine slanting in through a gap in the curtains, then, the sudden movement making her head spin, she groaned and, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, pressed her fingertips to her temples.

‘Headache?’ a male voice asked sympathetically.

She opened her eyes again to find Richard just emerging from the bathroom. His dark, attractively rumpled hair was still damp from the shower and he hadn’t a stitch on.

The sight of that beautifully toned male body with its muscular chest and lean hips, its trim waist and taut belly, made her heart lurch wildly and her stomach tighten.

Oh, but he was gorgeous. A superb male animal.

As she gaped at him speechlessly, he strolled over and, bending, kissed her lightly on the lips as if he had every right.

As if they were lovers.

Which, no doubt, they were, otherwise what was he doing in her room stark naked?

Transfixed by the thought, she froze.

When, sitting still as a statue, she failed to respond to his kiss, he looked at her appraisingly, trying to sum her up.

He knew what kind of woman she was and, though he was sure that she wanted him, she wasn’t acting as he would have expected. Most of the women he had known would have twined their arms around his neck and done their best to coax him back to bed.

But, instead of trying to look seductive, she looked positively embarrassed, as if she wasn’t used to sleeping around.

Had she reacted like those other women, he would have accepted the invitation. Even first thing in the morning and with a hangover, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her neck was long and slender, her breasts small and firm, with dusky-pink velvety nipples that he felt the urge to stroke with his tongue…

Realising that his eyes were fixed appreciatively on her breasts, in a panicky reflex action she jerked up the duvet to cover her nakedness.

A gleam of amusement in his eyes, he said, ‘I’ll get you something for that headache.’

As he turned and walked to the door, she caught her breath at the seductive back view of his tall, well-built figure.

His skin, with its golden all-over tan, was clear and glowed with health, his shoulders were broad, his buttocks firm, his long legs strong and straight. The line of his spine was elegant. Even the back of his neck, with the damp hair trying to curl a little into his nape, was sexy.

The thought of the housekeeper catching sight of him leaving her room naked made Tina exclaim, ‘But what will Mrs Baxter think if she—’

Further amused by this show of propriety, he turned and said, ‘I’m not expecting her home for a while. I told her I’d rustle up some breakfast and she could take as much time as she needed. So no doubt she’ll stay and feed her flock.’

Grinning, he added, ‘By the time she gets back, rather than shock her, I’ll be dressed and my bed will look suitably slept in.’

A second later the latch clicked and he was gone.

With a strange hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach that she identified as shame, Tina sat and stared at the closed door.

Last night she had obviously waved goodbye to her principles and enjoyed what Ruth had called ‘one of life’s most wonderful experiences’ and she couldn’t remember a thing.

Now, as well as feeling ashamed, she felt cheated.

If she hadn’t had too much to drink…

But if she hadn’t had too much to drink, she reminded herself grimly, she wouldn’t have slept with him in the first place.

She knew from the way her contemporaries talked that that kind of thing wasn’t uncommon, but she had never expected it to happen to her.

Well, now it had and it was too late. What was done couldn’t be undone. She would just have to live with the shame.

She bit her lip.

If they had known and loved one another it would have been different…Or if there’d been any promise of a serious relationship…

But neither of those things applied.

It had been purely and simply a one-night stand. On his part, at least.

From a kaleidoscope of emotions, anger and dismay and regret at her own behaviour stood out.

She almost wished she could say he’d taken advantage of her but, recalling the way she had put her arms round his neck and clung to him, in all honesty she couldn’t.

He must think she was easy, that this was her usual behaviour. Cringing, she wondered how she was going to face him.

And he would be back before too long.

The mere thought turned her insides into a quivering mass of jelly.

Trying to get a grip, she told herself bracingly that she was bound to feel better, more confident, when she had showered and got dressed.