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Captivated By The Enigmatic Tycoon
Bella Bucannon
He’ll prove he’s worth her love!Cassie Clarkson must ensure she doesn’t get on Jack Randell’s bad side – seeing as he's the handsome great-nephew of her new client. There’s one issue though, being on his good side is so much more dangerous – to her heart! Cassie needs this job but she also can’t deny her feelings.
A proposal of convenience!
Jacques Brookes wants the world to see the real him—the man behind the headlines. When he catches the eye of beautiful Lily Newman, he knows she could be just the woman to help him...
Jacques screams trouble—Lily’s already had her heart broken by her cheating ex-fiancé. But by pretending to be Jacques’s girlfriend she may be the only person who can help him on his journey to redemption. And he could be just what Lily needs to believe in love again!
‘Cassie?’ With a gentle hold Jack turned her to face him—and found himself even closer.
Near enough to feel the warmth of her body, to see the gold rim sparkle in her eyes, and smell the essence that was pure Cassie. His lips were a breath away from hers.
‘Conversation won’t answer the questions keeping me awake at night.’ He slid his hand around her neck. ‘Like how will it feel to have you crushed against me?’ He tilted her chin up with his thumb. ‘And are your lips as delectable and sweet as I imagine?’
He lowered his head and covered his mouth with hers in a tender exploratory kiss. Her body stilled, then melted into his, causing an instant physical reaction. His heart blipped, and then soared when she didn’t pull away. His fingers caressed and firmed as his free arm encircled her waist, binding her to him. His chest expanded and fire flared in his stomach, rapidly spreading to every extremity.
Cassie’s arms snaked up and around his neck, her fingers tangled into his hair and he trembled. There was no awareness of time. It was an instant or a lifetime until necessity for air forced his lips from hers barely long enough to gasp and let a possessive male growl escape before settling again. He heard her contented sigh mingle with his low rumble.
Yet suddenly Cassie wrenched free, slamming onto the workbench and sending him stumbling away, almost falling over the dog.
He took a step forward, hands held out in appeal. ‘Cassie, what’s wrong? Tell me what I did.’
‘It’s wrong. We can’t…we mustn’t.’ Her hesitant words were muttered against her palms as she dropped her head.
Captivated by the Enigmatic Tycoon
Bella Bucannon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
BELLA BUCANNON lives in a quiet northern suburb of Adelaide with her soulmate husband, who loves and supports her in any endeavour. She enjoys walking, dining out and travelling. Bus tours or cruising with days at sea to relax, plot and write are top of her list. Apart from category romance she also writes very short stories and poems for a local writing group. Bella believes joining RWA and SARA early in her writing journey was a major factor in her achievements.
To my own special hero, who understands my struggle with routine and being organised.
To Flo and Victoria for their support, advice and guidance.
And to everyone who knows I am a hoarder and couldn’t believe I understand decluttering.
Contents
Cover (#u20faf03d-fe0c-5858-962a-08fbecc9e531)
Back Cover Text (#u7dbb1fb0-87b5-5426-b5ef-6431baf03990)
Introduction (#u398a486f-65f7-597b-83be-046af01b36a5)
Title Page (#ud64a6c60-7ea5-596f-9f06-ee16dae7afa5)
About the Author (#ub57b973f-f556-56d1-8715-ce5037391f1c)
Dedication (#u29243b14-fa77-50d9-8727-b91186274967)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8ad3c97a-2d40-520b-a9dc-22906ff445fe)
CHAPTER TWO (#ub6ea485c-390d-56de-a654-debf9f224491)
CHAPTER THREE (#ue595bdaa-cc3f-590c-8ec0-75aa050397bb)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u769c33f8-370d-5fdc-97f7-0c8306e4d59e)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ub0acc22f-5114-5e8b-b938-ab5c2ee3ca82)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u28f1b8ac-2adc-597f-8c5e-389ab8ee8466)
JACK RANDELL GRINNED at the sound of Strauss, his Aunt Mel’s favourite composer, as he reached the back door. Hopefully this meant her feisty spirit was resurfacing as she’d rarely listened to any music she could dance to since the accident three months ago.
Although she was technically his great-aunt, he could never envision her as being that extra generation older. She and Bob had given him unconditional support during his teenage years when understanding between him and his parents had seemed irretrievable. This house had become his sanctuary, still was even at the age of twenty-eight.
His spirits lifted in anticipation that she’d also begun baking again, and that the kitchen would be filled with mouth-watering aromas. He automatically inhaled as he stepped across the threshold.
No tempting smells and no sound of human activity. He wasn’t surprised at the lack of heating; Mel rarely turned it on until the sun began to set. While he’d been visiting his parents in Brisbane, he’d thought July’s bitterly cold days in Adelaide might have changed her mind. Another reason to believe she was active again and didn’t need it.
After glancing into the kitchen, disappointingly neat and clean, he was about to call out when he heard a scraping sound from the family room on his right. He walked in and stopped, breath caught in his throat and heart skipping intermittent beats.
An enticingly filled-out pair of denim jeans occupied the space in front of the heavy coffee table now placed in the far corner. Definitely not Mel, who declared denim was for the young. His tightened as the pleasing form leaned in further, angling past the bookcase that had been pushed almost to the table, partly blocking the window.
He heard a triumphant huff, followed by a pained, ‘Ow.’ The taut bottom jiggled, and he became decidedly uncomfortable. Mesmerised and immobilised, he watched as the wriggling continued towards him.
A long-sleeved navy woollen jumper appeared, followed by a cap of cropped black hair. The woman snaked onto her haunches, holding up a small object. Her light harmonious laugh rippled through him as she rubbed a spot on the top of her head.
‘Got you. I’ll sew you back on later.’
‘Cassie, coffee time. I’ll... Jack, I didn’t expect this early surprise!’
Fixated on the figure in front of him, Jack didn’t react to his aunt’s voice. He was spellbound as the head spun, dark hair flew and a hand hit the floor to prevent toppling over. Scrambling to her feet, she twisted towards him and he found himself fighting for air again.
Walnut-coloured eyes framed by long black lashes widened as a delightful pink hue tinted her cheeks. Natural red, not quite symmetrical lips parted as she sucked in a deep breath and glared at him as if he’d been the cause of her injury.
Holding her gaze, he suddenly jerked back as Mel’s face loomed into his vision, eyebrows raised, perceptive smile in place. A great improvement since he’d said goodbye sixteen days ago.
‘Remember me?’
He wrapped her in a bear hug and kissed her cheek, thankful she’d regained her normal happy disposition.
‘Great timing as always. Coffee in the lounge, and you can tell me how your parents are. Oh, by the way, this is Cassie Clarkson. Cassie, my great-nephew, Jack Randell.’
She walked out with a slight hint of a limp, paying no heed to his dropped jaw. Who the hell was Cassie Clarkson, and what was she doing here when Mel had family who’d willingly come any time she needed help? Had she provided references for whatever she did, and had they been checked?
Hadn’t his aunt learnt from previous attempts to cheat her, two of them by so-called friends? An older woman on her own was considered an easy target by unscrupulous people. Even he had been duped by an attractive friend of his sister. He’d lost unpaid rent, plus his own time getting the damaged property fit to let again.
The young woman who was pinning whatever she’d picked up onto a coat hanging on a clothes rack—he now became aware of it, plus two by the window—was delightfully curved and a perfect height to nestle her head cosily on his shoulder.
Which he really should not be imagining when he had no idea who, why or what as far as she was concerned. Good looks and toned bodies might attract but they could also mask a desire for the lifestyle and prestige marrying into a wealthy family offered. Hard lessons learnt weren’t easily forgotten.
Ignoring the acceleration of his pulse and the warmth spreading through his body despite the cool air, he stepped forward. She looked up, and he had a hankering for warm Christmas brandy heated by the glow in her eyes. Instantly tempered by his self-imposed wariness of mere physical attraction. He took another pace and held out his hand.
‘Hello, Cassie.’
She wiped hers on her thighs before accepting.
‘Dust. Hello, Jack. Mel’s mentioned you a few times.’
She kept their touch brief, barely polite, and removed her hand smoothly so she couldn’t have felt the zing that shot through him. Neither did she sound as impressed as he’d like her to be, though there was no reason for him to care. Or for his fingers to involuntarily try to hold on. He definitely liked the slightly rough edge to her voice.
‘And you don’t approve. Any particular reason?’
She laughed again, triggering the same response. ‘I never make hasty judgements. I admire the way she portrays you, your siblings and cousins as paragons of virtue; I’m just convinced she’s oblivious to your faults.’
He suspected she was baiting him, didn’t rise. ‘She brings out the best in us. Who exactly are you and what are you doing here?’
‘I’m a declutterer.’
‘A what?’
* * *
Cassie wasn’t fazed by his bewilderment, and quite liked the baffled expression on his handsome rugged face. Payback for not letting her know he was observing her ungainly exit from under the table. She’d caught her breath as they’d made contact and wondered if he’d felt the same electrical spark that zapped up her arm.
‘I help people sort out and downsize their belongings.’
‘Mel’s not a hoarder.’ Quick and sharp.
‘No, she’s not, and she’s expecting us for coffee.’
She walked past him and went to the kitchen to wash her hands. The tingle on her nape told her he’d followed. She dismissed it, refusing to gush over cowboy hero features and eyes the colour of buffalo grass after spring rain. Or to surrender to the urge to finger comb his ruffled light brown hair. Even if his voice was deep and smooth like the old-time crooners on her mum’s CDs.
‘So she’s hired you. Why keep it quiet?’
His sharp tone irked. Counting to fourteen before turning rather than the universal ten was her safety valve. Failing to get any employer’s relative onside could backfire on her.
She enjoyed her work and satisfied customers spread the word, ensuring she rarely had to advertise for clients. He was the first of Mel’s relations she’d met, though a niece had visited prior to her arrival this morning, and there’d been a few phone calls.
At her interview, Mel had explained her family regularly checked up on her since she’d insisted she no longer needed a live-in carer. Her hairline fracture had healed with minimal after-effects, and she took care moving around. She still slept in a made-up room downstairs and never went to the second storey when alone.
Today, as they’d worked, she’d chatted about the younger generation, and the way they fussed over her. Cassie’s heart had clenched at the thought of having numerous relatives who cared.
Running her hand over her hair, she turned to find Jack almost within touching distance.
If one desired physical contact. Which she did not.
Legs apart, hands tucked into rear pockets and eyes narrowed with suspicion, he appeared to be spoiling for a confrontation.
She met his unblinking stare with confidence, regarding the ripples in her stomach as natural under the circumstances. Showing him she wouldn’t be intimidated, she began a slow scroll down his face, noting the high forehead, the wide generous mouth and the strong stubbled jaw. Sculpted biceps and pecs were clearly defined under a fawn work shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and folded at the wrists, revealing tufts of fine brown hair.
Unfortunately, it was her pulse quickening and her temperature rising as her gaze slid over firm blue denim-clad thighs and past long legs to black tradies’ boots. Keeping tight control on the speed, she made the journey up to a gratifying flush and a very masculine scowl.
‘I wasn’t aware she hadn’t told you.’ She heard the hitch in her voice, hoped her features didn’t betray her reaction. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the lounge in a few minutes.’
She walked towards the door, head held high, shoulders rigid.
He moved aside. ‘It will be my pleasure.’ A tone or two deeper than his last remark, with a definite hint of cynicism.
Upstairs, in the bedroom Mel had invited her to use, she slumped against the closed door, shaken by the encounter with her employer’s handyman nephew. The guy wouldn’t be out of place on the pages of the celebrity magazines Narelle, her best friend, avidly studied. She could imagine those full, firm lips...no! She would not.
Cassie had escaped from him to gather her thoughts, and wasn’t sure she’d succeeded even after brushing her hair until it shone. Not for him, she told herself as she went downstairs. Being neat and tidy was a matter of pride.
Her career choice had been a natural progression after assisting the woman she’d called Mum all her life help different friends prepare for the move into retirement villages or homes. At first she’d been fascinated by the variety of, to her teenage eyes, useless items, some not even decorative. There were always old postcards and souvenirs, hardly used presents, and so many photographs in albums, boxes and drawers.
