Melissa James - Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart - Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart

His facial muscles didn’t shift; he looked calm, but she sensed the tempest buried deep inside his emotions, like black clouds on the edge of a summer-blue sky. ‘I’ve heard nothing to your detriment, Rachel. I don’t buy tabloids for entertainment. I’m merely used to conducting my business on more than a handshake or verbal agreement. I’ve found it’s safer that way—for both of us.’

‘I see.’ Now she couldn’t keep the stiffness from her tone. No matter how he couched it, it was obvious that he didn’t trust her. ‘Then I’ll fax a copy to my lawyer and have him read over it before I sign.’

A short pause, then he said, ‘Are you certain it’s wise to contact someone from home?’

No matter how tactfully he’d said it, the unspoken knowledge hovered between them. Silence had become her bulwark and shield, but with a few tactful words he’d given her a timely reminder. Yes, Pete would lean on her lawyer to divulge her whereabouts, should she contact him. She already knew he’d done the same with her parents and her sister, Sara. Until she’d turned off her phone, all their calls had been reproaches about abandoning ‘poor Pete’ in his time of need.

That Armand hadn’t spoken about Pete directly showed she was right. He already knew or suspected far too much.

‘Then I’ll find a lawyer in Zürich. One that speaks English,’ she added defiantly, before he could say it. ‘There must be loads of them.’

‘There are, and that’s your right, certainly. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. It’s best we keep this entire matter as a business arrangement.’ His tone was as withdrawn as hers. Though she knew it was stupid, she wondered what she’d said or done to put distance between them when just last night, they’d been so close.

Don’t think about it.

Like it or not, separated or not—even though Pete had cheated on her at least twice—she was still a married woman for another few weeks. She had no right to think about how much Armand’s holding her last night had affected her, let alone keep reliving how safe she’d felt How warm and tender his arms and hands had been. And the look in his eyes …

No. She had to remember, this arrangement was all just business: keep Rachel happy, keep her here, let her think you might be interested until the resort’s endorsed. And, if the ads fail, drop her like a hot potato.

That’s why he’s called the Wolf, right? He’ll do whatever it takes to make his ideas work. It’s said he hasn’t failed at anything he’s taken on since he was seventeen.

And yet, impatient with this wary reserve, sick of trusting no one, she picked up the five-page contract and read it through. It was exactly as he’d said: straightforward, no hidden clauses. She was to stay here free of charge until the deal went through for the resort on the Swiss side of the French border. Then she would appear on a series of endorsements for the Bollinger resorts, and that would be that.

‘You’re right, it’s very simple.’ Drawing a fast breath, she grabbed the pen and signed it. ‘There you are, Herr Bollinger, it’s all done. Now you can get back to work.’ Bundling the sheaf of papers in her hands, she shoved it at him as if palming off a grenade. Some instinct was screaming at her, you’ll regret this .

Expecting further withdrawal on his part, or cold satisfaction at his victory however he won it, she was taken aback by the brief flash she saw in his eyes—it almost looked like relief. And that sent a spurt of confusion and worry through her. He did know too much. ‘Thank you, Rachel .’ And, if there was a slight emphasis on her given name, the crispness of his voice and the way he signed the papers, straightened them and put them in a folder was all business. ‘I have a meeting with the staff for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll be back in time for dinner.’

Rachel watched him leave the cabin, torn between indignation and aching wistfulness: a spurt of loneliness that hurt her heart but had little to do with being alone. She tried to shake it off, but it persisted through a two-hour session of reading, writing in her journal and listening to music. It continued even through an hour-long tramp along one of the marked nature-trails. Sweating through the layers she had to wear for her anonymity hadn’t bothered her until today.

But there were three things she didn’t and wouldn’t do: check email, check her SMS’s or watch TV. The first two were easily traceable if Pete paid an expert enough, and watching TV was a reminder of the woman she used to be. The longer she stayed here, the more she wondered if she should ever have been that person at all.

So who was she now, and what did she want from life?

For someone who’d lived her entire life on aspiration, always going forward to the next goal, this inactivity, this waiting—and especially this temporary dependence on a man she didn’t know—felt as if she’d said goodbye to her most trusted instincts and even her brain cells. She didn’t know who this alien being was that opened her mouth and said yes to everything Armand proposed, but she didn’t trust her an inch.

‘I’M NOT coordinated. I’ll fall and hurt myself. I can’t do this, Armand, and especially not in the dark!’

The absolute panic in Rachel’s voice was more than the natural trepidation at trying something new. Holding her close, steadying both their snowboards by keeping his at a ninety-degree angle to hers, Armand kept his voice low and soothing. ‘You can’t know that. We haven’t even gone ten feet yet.’

‘I can’t even ski. How can I do this? I have no stocks. I’m going to fall. I know I will. Don’t you understand? I can’t go to hospital!’

He looked at her in the deep night, lit by the warmth of bagged fires on poles reflecting off the new fall of snow in small, glittering jewels. But she hadn’t noticed either the night’s beauty or even the fact that he’d had his arm around her waist for ten minutes. If she felt the same kind of half-amazed awakening of body and soul he experienced every time he touched her, especially since their dance and half-kiss, she wasn’t showing it. She was staring down at her booted feet on a snowboard and was literally shaking.

‘Have you had a bad experience in hospital as a child?’ he asked gently.

She didn’t even make an acid comment about his trying to psycho-analyse her, which told him her fear was very real. ‘I can’t be found until the divorce is final and made public. If it happens, he’ll find a way to blackmail me into coming back to the show. The restraining order won’t stop him. He’s been losing ratings hand over fist since I left. The public now knows it was me that gave him his empathy, and that I was feeding him the answers people needed to hear. I know him—he’ll be desperate by now. But he’ll have a plan to win me back into his life. He’s addicted to fame, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make me come back.’

Now, at last, Armand got it. Really, he didn’t have much choice but to understand. She was babbling her secrets in fear, secrets she’d kept chained inside her heart like a hated treasure. They’d been housemates nearly ten days now, and all this time he’d tried to get her to talk, with no success.

His arousal faded in a fit of protectiveness like a lightning-bolt, all but knocking him off his feet. His suspicions had been confirmed in a flash, and he wanted to knock Rinaldi flying—flying right off the damned planet.

Stop it. You’ll terrify her. He knew that from bitter experience. He’d seen the terror on his sisters’ faces on the rare times he’d been allowed home from boarding school and his father had walked in with that look on his face …