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Pirate Tycoon, Forbidden Baby
Janette Kenny
“I hate you.”
“I would expect no less from you.” His eyes blazed with dark emotion as his head lowered to hers.
Kira knew he intended to kiss her, and she knew it wouldn’t be gentle. She knew she should push him away—at the very least turn her head. And she knew she would do neither. For she wanted him to kiss her with a desperation that shocked her.
His mouth closed over hers with a hunger that devoured what remained of her will. She shuddered violently and held herself impassive for a heartbeat, knowing capitulation would signal her doom. Then the kiss changed, softened, and a different type of tremor swept through her, stripping her of fear and reason.
She splayed her free hand over his heart, marveling at the strong, rapid beat so in tandem with her own, kissing him in kind. He tasted of exotic spices and seduction, and she suddenly craved both so much she knew she’d die of want if he denied her.
For as long as Janette Kenny can remember, plots and characters have taken up residence in her head. Her parents, both voracious readers, read her the classics when she was a child. That gave birth to a deep love for literature, and allowed her to travel to exotic locales— those found between the covers of books.
Janette’s artist mother encouraged her yen to write. As an adolescent she began creating cartoons, featuring her dad as the hero, with plots that focused on the misadventures on their family farm, and she stuffed them in the nightly newspaper for him to find. To her frustration, her sketches paled in comparison to her captions.
Her first real writing began with fan fiction, taking favourite TV shows and writing the episodes and endings she loved—happily ever after, of course. In her junior year of high school she told her literature teacher she intended to write for a living one day. His advice? Pursue the dream, but don’t quit the day job.
Though she dabbled with articles, she didn’t fully embrace her dream to write novels until years later, when she was a busy cosmetologist making a name for herself in her own salon. That was when she decided to write the type of stories she’d been reading—romances.
Once the writing bug bit, the incurable passion consumed her to create stories and people them. Still, it was seven more years and that many novels before she saw her first historical romance published. Now that she’s also writing contemporary romances for Mills & Boon®, she finally knows that a full-time career in writing is closer to reality.
Janette shares her home and free time with a Chow- Shepherd mix pup she rescued from the pound, who aspires to be a lap-dog. She invites you to visit her website at www.jankenny.com. She loves to hear from readers—email her at janette@jankenny.com
Dear Reader
Ever since I was a young child, I have travelled the world through the pages of novels. Many were the classics that have stood the test of time, but the majority were modern romances—both category and single title lengths.
One of my early favourites of genre fiction was sea adventures. The fascination with swashbuckling pirates has stuck in my head for years. Though I’ve read many historical romances with pirate heroes, I toyed with the idea of a modern one with generational ties to the Caribbean—one who bested the enemy by kidnapping the heroine, and eventually lost his heart to her.
That spark gave birth to my debut romance for Harlequin Mills & Boon
, where a corporate pirate sweeps down on a heroine caught between loyalty and desire and spirits her away to his island hideaway for revenge. Ah, but true love always finds a way to bring out the best in anyone—even a ruthless pirate! I hope you enjoy Andrе’s and Kira’s adventure to love as much as I enjoyed writing it!
I love hearing from readers, so feel free to drop me a line at janette@jankenny.com, or visit my home on the web at www.jankenny.com
From my heart to yours
Janette Kenny
PIRATE TYCOON, FORBIDDEN BABY
BY
JANETTE KENNY
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
KIRA MONTGOMERY pressed her forehead against the massage table’s padded face cradle and shifted again to loosen the tension knotting her shoulders and neck. Impossible.
Her masseuse had “stepped out for a moment.” The term obviously meant something different to her than it did to Kira. Leaving a client waiting fifteen minutes was unsuitable.
Chateau Mystique couldn’t afford more bad press. The tragic deaths and ensuing scandals associated with the five-star hotel on the Las Vegas strip had hurt business. Hurt her in ways she’d never imagined.
To make her life more of a jumble, her doctor had confirmed the one thing she’d never anticipated. She was pregnant.
Her insides quivered and she took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out slowly. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.
Ever since she’d heeded her solicitor’s advice and traveled to the Caribbean island of Petit St. Marc for a closed meeting with Andrе Gauthier, her life had tumbled into a chaotic nightmare. The devastatingly handsome billionaire had denied ever knowing of their meeting, and had refused to divulge how he’d gained stock in her hotel. Though she’d been frustrated and angry, she’d been captivated by the sheer power of his persona and his rapier-quick ability to debate an issue.
He’d mentally stimulated her and physically aroused her more than any man she’d ever met. But she wouldn’t be swayed by his staggering offer to buy out her shares. He owned minority stock, and that was all he’d ever have.
The Chateau was her home. Her dream. Her legacy. There’d been no reason to tarry on the island any longer.
No reason except desire. She hadn’t been able to deny the passion blazing between them and the raw hunger he stirred in her. And why should she?
She was an adult. Surely she could engage in a brief affair and walk away?
But thirteen weeks later she hadn’t been able to forget their stolen night of passion. Or the scandal that had erupted the following morning to rip them apart. Or Andrе Gauthier, the father of her child, the man who’d recently made headlines with his ruthless attempt to break Bellamy Enterprises.
Would the shareholders force Peter Bellamy to sell his father’s empire? Would they decide to defy Andrе and set the stage for a hostile takeover?
Perhaps they’d agree to a merger. Yes, a nice peaceful working arrangement, like the one she’d thought to forge with Andrе before she learned of his perfidy.
How na?ve she’d been. Where she’d only worried about dealing with Andrе over the Chateau, she now fretted over the merger of them as parents. How did one tell a chance lover that he’d soon be a father—a chance lover she’d parted with on hostile terms?
The nausea that had been her constant companion the past few weeks threatened to return. She concentrated on the doctor’s instructions instead of dwelling on ringing up Andrе again to relay her news.
One dragon at a time. That was the only way she’d come out of this debacle intact. She’d left a message for him to contact her. And if he didn’t. If he chose to ignore her…
The door opened behind Kira, and she quickly pushed her worries about Andrе to the back of her mind to confront the tardy masseuse. “I trust you have a good excuse for leaving me here waiting for so long?”
Silence answered her.
Kira frowned at the floor, willing away the dark premonition that crept into the room like a cold London fog roiling off the Thames. But her trepidation only grew, because she knew someone stood in the doorway, watching her.
Someone, she sensed, who shouldn’t be here.
She stilled, her breath catching in her throat as a wedge of light arrowed across the plush carpet and darted beneath the table to inch up the wall.
A chill born of anxiety hopscotched up her spine, and she shivered despite the luxurious blanket draped over her bare body. “Who’s there?”
“Bonjour, ma chеrie,” he said, his deep, rough-edged voice causing her heart to race so fast her head spun.
Andrе Gauthier! Instead of returning her call, he’d come to her. Her first impulse was to scramble off the table and launch herself into his arms, just to assure herself this wasn’t a dream. Just to touch him, kiss him.
“I suggest we wait to talk until later, when I’m presentable,” she said, in an effort to gain control of her rioting emotions.
“I didn’t come here to chat.”
A pair of obscenely expensive men’s loafers stepped into the view afforded her through the face cradle, the hem of his charcoal trousers breaking perfectly on his vamps.
He splayed a hand on the small of her back, the heat of his palm sensuously electric, branding her, reminding her that the last time he’d touched her thusly she’d been awash with passion. Not that she needed a reminder.
But where she’d sensed his ardor before, she perceived his antagonism now. All directed at her.
His anger didn’t bode well for what she must tell him.
“Then why are you here?” The tremor in her voice conveyed her trepidation and confusion.
“To claim what is mine.”
She dug her fingernails into the armrest, likely scoring the butter-soft leather. Of course. He was here to haggle with her over the Chateau again.
Kira had expected this quarrel. Yet in her imaginings she’d been dressed and in control of her emotions, at the board meeting scheduled two weeks from now, not naked and quivering with apprehension and need. Surely she didn’t wish to feel sexually receptive to him? But his presence commanded all her senses.
He glided a hand up her spine, sliding the blanket over her sensitized skin slowly, and the desire churning to life within her silenced the protests in her head. She gritted her teeth, fighting the feelings erupting in her: annoyance, desire, need.
It was a losing battle.
From the very first time they’d met she’d been in tune to his every breath, to the way he filled a room with his intensity. To the way his unique scent of spice tempered with the tang of the sea called to her, stripping her inhibitions bare.
His long fingers danced over her bared back in a silken caress, flooding her with unbidden memories of the intoxicating kisses that she’d craved, of masterful hands that had brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure and beyond, and lovemaking that had been more intense, more consuming than anything she’d experienced in her life.
That firm, yet gentle caress muddled her thinking. Her body reacted to him with shocking welcome, her breasts growing heavy, the sensitive nipples peaking.
She bit back a sigh of pleasure, her emotions roiling in utter turmoil. A heavy ache of want converged at the apex of her thighs, spreading upward, making her quake with desire. Damn him!
One caress had reduced her to a quivering wanton, sweeping her away on a wave of raw need. She detested his power over her. Hated the magnetism that drew her to the powerful throb of his touch.
Kira forced her voice to remain steady when her emotions were anything but. “This isn’t the place to discuss business.”
“I disagree.”
The crackle of paper echoed in the tense stillness. A pristine white sheet was thrust beneath the face cradle.
She huffed out an annoyed breath, expecting another decadently outlandish offer for the Chateau. Her gaze skimmed the header, and her stomach plummeted as her world tipped on its axis.
No! This couldn’t be! She read each damning word, her racing heart nearly stopping as the meaning sank into her soul. How could she have believed her future was safe from his power, from his dominance?
“What trickery is this?” she asked.
“No tricks, ma chеrie. I own majority shares in Chateau Mystique.”
Impossible! Edouard’s shares were to pass into her hands after his will was read in two weeks. He’d promised she’d have majority control of the hotel then.
Yet the document proved Edouard’s shares had fallen into this arrogant billionaire’s hands. She doubted its validity, even though her solicitor’s signature was there, a signature she’d seen countless times. This couldn’t have happened, yet it had.
She felt betrayed. Used. Abandoned all over again.
Andrе controlled her hotel. Her home. And he’d control her if she let him.
His hand glided over her shoulders in a mock caress, the fingers playing her skin like a fine instrument. Only the dirge sang her doom. She trembled, her mind reeling, more furious than she’d ever been in her life.
He laughed, no doubt gloating over his conquest and her reaction to him, and her humiliation was absolute. “Get up.”
Kira sprang up so fast the room spun. She clasped the blanket around her heaving chest and shook her head to toss her heavy hair away from her face, too gripped with shock and anger to feel satisfaction when his eyes flared with sensual awareness, with masculine appreciation.
At least they were alone. She’d read that whenever Andrе left his island compound his trusted guard accompanied him. The brute was undoubtedly in the hall, making sure nobody interrupted his decadently wealthy employer.
Her gaze climbed Andrе’s tall, muscular form, clad in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that shimmered in the artificial light. French, of course, the cut emphasizing his long powerful legs, lean hips and broad shoulders.
His snow-white shirt was a startling contrast against his darkly tanned skin, and his silvery tie complemented his platinum watchband that had probably cost more than what she earned in a year. His thick black hair was combed off his brow, his clothing meticulous, his bearing indomitable.
Her heart did a traitorous flutter as she remembered how much she’d savored having his powerful body molded to hers, those elegant hands bringing her to pleasure again and again. Drowning in the passion in his eyes as they’d made love.
It had been this way from the start. Less than two hours after she’d met him they’d had sex: hot, wild, urgent. There had been no love involved, only an overpowering attraction and an intense demanding need.
She’d never behaved so recklessly in her life. Never thought of the consequences of falling into Andrе’s bed.
Tell him the result of the affair, her mind screamed. Get it out in the open now.
Hands trembling, she dug her cold fingers into the blanket and met his eyes, such an intense dark brown they gleamed black. A dizzying rush of emotions slammed into her, staggering her with their strength. No, now wasn’t the time.
“Get dressed,” he said.
Kira turned her back to him and slipped a blue silk sundress over her flushed body, hating the way her hands shook and how her body pulsed and quivered with awareness of him. Though the garment she donned was modest, she felt exposed under his knowing stare. Vulnerable.
“I assume you expect to buy my shares now?” she said.
“Oui.”
“They aren’t for sale.”
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
“I don’t need to.” She faced him, head high, her insides tangled in a riot of emotions. My God, he was an extraordinarily gorgeous man—tall, bronzed, strong, like a god come to life. And he was just as arrogant, just as domineering.
“I’m not selling,” she said.
One dark eyebrow lifted, as if challenging her statement. “Everyone has a price.”
“I don’t.”
“We shall see.” Andrе nodded to the door. “After you.”
“I’ll say my goodbye to you here, and see you at the board meeting in two weeks.”
