Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

After six weeks had gone by, feeling unable to accept their generous hospitality any longer, she declared her intention of returning to England.

‘Do you want to go home?’ her aunt asked.

‘No,’ Madeleine admitted—suppose she ran into Rafe, or saw the announcement of his wedding in the papers?—‘but I must get back to work.’

‘You’re not just worrying about money, are you? We’re not exactly poor, and I’m sure—’

‘You’re very kind, and I appreciate it. But I do want to start work again as soon as possible.’

Agreeing that that might be for the best, her uncle offered her a position in the physical-therapy unit of the Wansdon Heights Fitness Center, which he owned.

After some thought, she accepted. If she stayed safely in Boston, surely sooner or later she would forget about Rafe?

Either that or she was afraid she would grieve for the rest of her life.

Her aunt and uncle were delighted that she was staying and, when she announced her intention of finding a small apartment to rent, urged her to live with them.

‘We love having you here, and we’ve five spare bedrooms. We can turn the biggest into what you Brits call a bedsit.’

She thanked them sincerely but, needing to be independent, insisted on paying a fair rent and keeping herself.

Unable to change her mind, they agreed.

A phone call to London settled that when Noel went back to the Middle East he would hand in the keys to her flat, and Eve would store her relatively few possessions.

That part was easy. The letter to Katie, who was looking forward to having her back, was much harder to write.

The answer came by return. Her parents, apparently to soften the blow, were buying the child a computer for her birthday, and after extracting a promise that Madeleine would keep in touch by email Katie seemed reasonably cheerful.

The fitness centre was extremely busy, and in an effort to put the past behind her and give herself less time to brood Madeleine chose to work long hours, finding it rewarding and, after a time, therapeutic.

The bleakness of disillusionment, mingled with the longing for what might have been had Rafe proved to be the man of principle she had thought him, began to fade but still never truly left her thoughts. By the time Alan Bannerman joined the staff, she was over the worst. Or so she told herself.

Somehow—perhaps it was his mild manner, his charming diffidence—he got through to her, and when they had been colleagues for some six weeks she accepted a date. Apleasant, undemanding companion, he proved to be an antidote to loneliness.

When they had known each other for three months he asked her to marry him. Thinking him placid and unemotional, she was surprised by how ardently he pressed her. Unable to give him an immediate answer, she asked for time to think it over. She was relieved when he agreed to wait a week, and they arranged to have dinner the following Saturday evening.

When Saturday morning came and Madeleine still hadn’t been able to make up her mind, she decided to phone Eve and ask her opinion.

Listening to the familiar voice answer laconically, ‘Hello?’ she felt a surge of homesickness.

‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Maddy! It’s great to hear from you!’ Eve exclaimed. ‘How are things?’

‘I’ve got something of a problem.’

‘Hang on a minute while I switch off the telly…Right, fire away.’

When Madeleine had told her, Eve exclaimed, ‘A man who’s not only nice-looking but also decent and dependable wants to marry you and you call that a problem?

‘Even though the love of my life finally moved in with me six weeks ago, I can’t get him to make any sort of commitment, let alone offer to marry me…’ Eve moaned. Then quickly added, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sympathetic really. It must be tough when it’s something as important as marriage and you can’t make up your mind!’

Madeleine laughed. ‘Be serious for a second, Eve; this is important.’

‘What’s he like in bed?’

‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine admitted.

‘So you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length? I can’t say I blame you. Once bitten, twice shy…Though if you do decide to marry him, it might not be a bad idea to find out what kind of lover he is before you actually say “I will”…’

‘That’s the problem, Eve,’ Madeleine sighed, ‘I’m fond of him, but there’s no passion.’ Then, striving to be fair, ‘At least on my side.’

‘I thought not. Otherwise you wouldn’t still be hesitating. It’s Rafe, isn’t it? You’re still in love with him.’

‘No!’ Realising her denial had been too vehement, Madeleine added more moderately, ‘No, I’m not still in love with him.’

‘But you’ve never really got over him,’ Eve concluded.

‘It has nothing to do with Rafe.’

Eve grunted her disbelief. ‘I think it has everything to do with Rafe.’

‘As far as he’s concerned it’s over and done with. All in the past. Truly.’ Madeleine tried to make her voice sound as persuasive as possible.

‘Well, I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. So what do you want me to say?’

‘I just want a truthful opinion. Whether or not you think I should go ahead and marry Alan.’

‘If you need to ask my opinion, you don’t love him enough and you shouldn’t be marrying him.’

Put like that it was blindingly simple.

‘Thank you,’ Madeleine said gratefully.

‘Don’t thank me until you’ve made up your mind.’

‘It’s made up.’ Madeleine smiled, relief flooding her voice.

‘Atta girl! Is it yes or no?’

‘It’s no. You’re quite right. If I needed to ask your opinion, then I don’t love him enough. It wouldn’t be fair to marry him. We’re having dinner together tonight; I’ll tell him then.’

‘What will you do when you’ve told him? I mean, if you work together it could make things difficult.’

Madeleine paused, trying to decide what to do. ‘I think, for his sake, I’ll have to give in my notice and find another post.’

‘I agree. Leave him alone so he can gather up the pieces and get on with his life.’