Kathryn Ross - Tycoon's Choice - Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

He wasn’t merely good-looking. With a cleft chin, a mouth that was at once ascetic and sensual, a strong nose, high cheekbones, brilliant, thickly lashed green eyes and dark, curved brows, he was intriguing, riveting.

But it was more than his looks. Much more. There was something about the man himself. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to, but something that fulfilled a need in her. It felt right to be with him, as if she had always known him, as if they belonged together.

While they ate an excellent meal he kept the conversation light and general, moving from topic to topic, finding out what interested her, seeking her opinion on the subjects that did.

In spite of her awareness of him, the heated attraction that lay just beneath the surface, she found herself responding with an ease that, when she thought about it later, surprised her.

It wasn’t until they reached the coffee stage that he deliberately moved into more dangerous territory.

Needing to know, and recalling the levelness of her gaze even when she was flustered, he went for the direct approach. ‘Tell me about your husband.’

Every nerve in her body tightening, she said, ‘There’s not much to tell.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Colin. Colin Formby.’

‘You kept your maiden name?’ he queried.

‘Yes. It was what my family wanted,’ she said quietly, taking a sip of her drink.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘You were an only child?’

‘Yes,’ Madeleine answered.

Rafe paused, leaning back in his chair. ‘What field was your husband in?’

‘Physiotherapy.’

‘When did the pair of you meet?’

‘At university.’ Madeleine lowered her gaze, focusing on anything but Rafe’s probing gaze.

‘You were students together?’

‘No. I was in my final year. Colin was a tutor.’

Rafe was intrigued. ‘So he was older than you?’

‘Eighteen years.’

‘A big gap.’

‘Yes,’ she said shortly. Madeleine had always thought that the age gap, big as it was, wouldn’t have mattered if she had truly loved him.

Rafe could sense her growing discomfort, but having got this far, he decided to press on. ‘How long were the two of you married?’

‘Six months.’

‘Not long.’

‘No,’ Madeleine almost whispered.

Rafe paused, knowing his questions were difficult for her. ‘How did he die?’

‘He was killed in an explosion.’

Quelling the urge to ask any further questions, Rafe commented, ‘Tough.’

Madeleine raised her eyes to his. ‘Yes, it was.’

There was sadness there and some other emotion Rafe couldn’t put a name to. But it wasn’t the utter desolation, the inconsolable grief, of someone who had lost all they held dear. Of that he was sure.

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. The absence of a man in her life had made him fear that she was still in love with her dead husband, but the vibes he was picking up convinced him he was wrong.

Which must make his chances of succeeding, a great deal easier, he thought.

Refilling her coffee-cup, he changed the subject smoothly. ‘What does Madeleine Knight do in her spare time? Are you a secret television addict?’

Relaxing again, she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I much prefer a book.’

‘Ah, a woman after my own heart! Have you read Matthew Colt’s Funny Business …?’

‘Oh, yes…I loved the part where Joe tries to steal his exwife’s poodle…’

For a little while they talked about the book, laughing over the bits that had amused them the most, before Madeleine remarked, ‘I read somewhere that it’s going to be turned into a play.’

‘So I understand. Should be worth seeing…Do you like the theatre?’

‘Love it.’

‘Have you had a chance to see the new West End play everyone’s talking about?’

‘ Beloved Impresario ?’ She shook her head and, unwilling to admit she couldn’t really afford to go to the theatre these days, said, ‘I imagine tickets are like gold dust.’

‘I’m sure I could get hold of a couple, if you’d like to see it?’ he asked casually.

Her heart starting to hammer against her ribs, she bit back the urge to accept. She was being foolish in the extreme just having dinner with him. No doubt all he wanted was a brief fling.

But while many women might have jumped at the chance, that kind of thing wasn’t her style.

Plus, it could cost her her job.

Her expression tight, controlled, she refused with formal politeness. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

He was having none of it. Green eyes looked into aquamarine. ‘You mean you don’t want to see it? Or you don’t want to see it with me?’

Feeling as though she’d been set down in the middle of a minefield, she found herself wishing the evening were over. Wishing she could escape.

And he knew it.

Lifting her chin, she answered as steadily as possible, ‘I don’t have much spare time, so I don’t want to commit myself.’

He had known from the start that getting anywhere with this woman wouldn’t be easy. Now he realized that it was going to be a great deal harder than he had anticipated.

But he had wanted her on sight, wanted her with a passionate hunger that had surprised and shaken him. And no matter what it took, he vowed, he intended to have her.

But it would be a mistake to come on too strong .

With a graceful movement of his hand he conceded defeat and, his expression bland, steered the conversation into less perilous channels.

Feeling relieved, she followed his lead.

Watching her, he noted that relief and wondered why she was so wary, so reluctant to get involved.

Still, the night was young. There was time to change her mood.

His charming nature soon set her at her ease once more, and by the time they finally rose to leave she could have stayed there all night.

And he knew that too.

Watching her face, soft and dreamy now, he felt a strange tenderness mingling with satisfaction as he escorted her outside.

Moonlit air caressed her skin like velvet, and the stars were so close she felt she only had to stretch out a hand to pluck one from the sky.

The taxi Rafe had ordered was waiting for them, and his hand a warm weight in the middle of her spine, he ushered her towards it.

When they were settled in the back, he said, ‘I understand from Miss Collins that you live in Knightsbridge. Where exactly?’

She gave him the address of her flat and, sliding open the glass panel, he relayed it to the driver.

As they reached the gates and joined the late-night stream of traffic, he looked deep into her eyes. His look was so intent and searching it made her heart beat faster and her breath grow short.

While she stared back at him as though mesmerised, he took her heart-shaped face between his palms and, bending his dark head, touched his mouth to hers.

His kiss, light and fleeting though it was, seemed to melt every bone in her body and filled her with an almost uncontrollable longing.

Drawing back, he said quizzically, ‘There now, that’s what you’ve been fearing all night, but it didn’t hurt a bit, did it?’

When she just looked at him with big, dazed eyes, he said, ‘So shall I do it again?’

Somehow she found her voice and lied jerkily, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘OK,’ he said, and kissed her again. This time there was nothing light or fleeting about it.

When, without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath the light pressure of his, he deepened the kiss until her head was reeling and her very soul had lost its way.

He could feel her trembling and, sensing that she was his for the taking, he suggested softly, ‘My apartment is quite close to here. Will you come up for a nightcap?’