Caroline Anderson - The Single Mum and the Tycoon

David sucked in his breath, ran his hand over her ribs so his palm was against her skin. She gasped as they came into contact, and she heard his breath catch, too.

‘Beautiful,’ he said roughly, and then, anchoring her head with his other hand, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her properly for the first time.

‘Can we lose the light?’ he said, and she realised he was still afraid of her reaction.

‘No,’ she said, not knowing at all if it was the right thing to do, but just sure she wanted to see him, wanted him to see her, so there would be no secrets, nothing left to shock or surprise or disappoint. She lifted her hand and touched it to his heart. ‘I want to see you. I want to look into your eyes. I want to know it’s you, and I want you to know it’s me, warts and all.’

Caroline Andersonhas the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft-furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, ‘I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband John and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!’ Caroline also writes for the Medical™ Romance series.

BY

CAROLINE ANDERSON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE SINGLE MUM AND THE TYCOON

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PROLOGUE

NOW what?

He turned his head, eyeing the vibrating, cheerful little phone on his bedside locker with distaste. God, he loathed that ring-tone. Why on earth hadn’t he changed it?

It stopped, and he dropped his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes, trying to get back to that quiet place inside where nothing could reach him.

But not for long.

The phone rang again, and he sighed and picked it up.

Damn. Not Georgie. Anyone else—anyone who knew—but not his little sister. Not now.

Except she wouldn’t give up, of course. She never did. She was going to keep on ringing and texting and driving him mad until eventually he gave up and spoke to her, so he might as well get it over with.

Bracing himself for the inevitable lecture, he stabbed the button and forced some enthusiasm into his voice. ‘Georgie—hi! How’re you doing?’

‘Fine—not that you care, or you wouldn’t screen my calls!’

His laugh cracked a little, and he coughed to cover it.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a lousy brother,’ he said, not bothering to deny the call screening. ‘So—what have I done wrong this time?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Good God. A miracle.’

‘Don’t get overexcited, there’s still a chance,’ she warned, and he wondered what she wanted. Something, for sure. She always did. And he always failed her—

‘Now, are you listening?’ she went on. ‘I’ve got to tell you something really important, and you’ve got to pay attention.’

‘As if I don’t always,’ he said drily, and heard her chuckle.

‘Yeah, right. When you’re not ignoring me. I’ve been trying to get you for days to tell you—no surprises there. I don’t know where you hide. Anyway, the thing is, Dad’s getting married again—to Liz, Nick’s mother—you know, my mother-in-law?’

‘Married?’ He straightened up, stunned. ‘That’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?’

‘Sudden? David, they’ve known each other for two years! It’s hardly sudden, and he’s lonely, and they get on so well. It’s time he moved on. It’s been seven years since Mum died. That’s long enough.’

Seven years? Really? ‘I can’t believe that,’ he said.

‘Believe it. And you have to come home for the wedding. You haven’t been home since before Dad’s heart attack, and if it’s not been one darned excuse it’s been another, but you have to come home for this, no isn’t an option. Your empire will have to take care of itself for a while. He wants you to be his best man, but he won’t ask you himself, you know what he’s like, but he really wants you here standing by his side. And don’t even think about breaking something just to get out of it.’

‘As if,’ he said, trying to make a joke of it, but she wasn’t laughing.

‘Don’t give me that. It’s time you came home, David, even if you’re in a total body cast,’ she said firmly, and he swallowed again and stared down the bed at his feet.

He didn’t think so. The timing couldn’t have been worse—and, as for being his father’s best man— standing by him —well, that was some kind of sick joke, wasn’t it?

‘When’s the wedding?’ he asked, hoping to God it wasn’t another life-changing event he was going to miss because of this stupid, stupid—

‘Not for a while. They want to get the spa finished so he can enjoy the wedding.’

‘Spa?’

Her sigh spoke volumes, and he knew he was in trouble again. ‘You really don’t listen to anything, do you? Nick bought the old hotel at the top of the high street with Dan Hamilton and Harry Kavenagh: Dan’s the architect, and Dad’s firm are doing the work. Ring any bells?’

‘Cheeky. Of course it rings bells,’ he lied. ‘Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my plate. I knew they were working on something, I’d just forgotten it was going to be a spa.’

‘Not just any spa,’ she said, and he could hear the pride in her voice. ‘It’s going to be amazing. They’re turning it into a top-end residential and day spa and gym, properly state-of-the-art, and it’s going to be fantastic but it’s been a bit of a killer for Dad. It’s a big job to oversee. It’s due to open next Easter, and he says he can’t think about the wedding till it’s all signed off, so they want to get married as soon as it’s open.’

Easter. He frowned at his feet, moved the left one, wriggled the toes. Winced as the pain shafted through it and, for once, he welcomed it. That would be some time in April. And it was June now. So—ten months. Would he be ready? Would he ever be ready?

Have to be. This was his father, and he’d asked for nothing over the past ten years. He’d lost his wife, had a heart attack and bypass surgery that David hadn’t been able to be there for, ended up with crippling business problems because of his illness that he’d never once mentioned—and he’d gone through it all without asking his son for anything.

And he wasn’t asking now, but David couldn’t turn him down. Not this time. Georgie was right.

‘I’ll come,’ he said. ‘Tell him I’ll be there.’

‘Tell him yourself. Call him—if you really mean it.’

The door opened and a nurse came in with a porter and a big smile. ‘We’re ready for you, David.’

His heart lurched against his ribs and he held up his hand to stop her. ‘I mean it. I’ll come. I promise.’