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

He groaned. ‘Where are your friends when you need them? Still, I’ll forgive you if you come back as soon as possible.’

‘I intend to.’ Whether or not Eve found anything suitable, Madeleine now knew for certain that she was going home.

‘Any chance of making it back for Christmas?’

‘I seriously doubt it.’

‘There’s a cold snap on the way and good odds on it being a white one this year. Remember how, as kids, we used to wish for a white Christmas?’

‘I remember,’ Madeleine answered wistfully.

‘Well, the long-range weather forecast has been for snow nationwide, the mistletoe is up and my lips are pursed ready.’

Madeleine laughed. ‘Even with such an incentive, I’m afraid I can’t see myself making it until the New Year. But I’ll get things moving as fast as possible.’

‘You do that. Bye, now. See you soon.’

With a sigh, Madeleine replaced the receiver.

The fact that she was going home would be a blow to her aunt and uncle, and she hated the thought of telling them almost as much as she hated the thought of telling Alan. But it had to be done.

In the event, telling Alan proved to be an even worse ordeal than she had anticipated. Displaying an unexpected streak of tenacity, he hung on like a terrier, refusing to accept her decision, trying to change her mind.

By the time the uncomfortable meal was over, Madeleine felt totally shattered.

Pleading a headache, which was the truth, she opted for an early night and, fearing a continuation of the pressure, refused his offer to take her home and waved for a cab.

It was obvious that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and, knowing that for both their sakes it would be best to make a quick, clean break, she decided to leave Boston as soon as she could. But as it was only a few days to Christmas, she realized it might prove impossible to get a flight until after the holiday.

As soon as she got back to her bedsit, she called Logan Airport.

Her luck was in.

Due to a last-minute cancellation, there was a seat available on a flight leaving the following evening. Though it was in first class, and she couldn’t really afford the extra, she booked it on her credit card.

That done, she breathed a sigh of relief.

When she reached London, she would have just about enough money to enable her to stay in one of the cheaper hotels for a few nights.

How well she managed after that would depend on how soon she could get back to work. If Eve came up with anything suitable…

Thinking of her friend, she reached for the phone. It would be the early hours of the morning in England, so she couldn’t tell Eve what she’d done, but she could leave a message.

Having tapped in the familiar number, she waited for the answering machine to cut in, then said, ‘Eve, it’s Maddy. I’ve managed to get a seat on a flight leaving Boston tomorrow night. I’ll ring tomorrow afternoon, when you’re home from work, and give you the details. Bye for now.’

Then, her head throbbing dully, she emailed Katie to tell her the news, before putting on her nightdress and going through to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She had been sleeping badly lately, but, now she had come to a decision and taken the first positive step towards going home, she should be able to sleep better, she told herself bracingly as she climbed into bed.

For months she had tried not to think about Rafe, but, as though the decision to go back to London had opened the floodgates of memory, she found herself doing just that.

She could see in her mind’s eye how his thick, sooty lashes brushed his hard cheeks when he looked down…how his clear green eyes could go silvery with laughter, or dark and smoky with desire…how the creases in his lean cheeks—too male to be called dimples—deepened when he smiled.

She remembered how generous and caring he had been. How willing to give and take, to compromise. Remembered too how masterful and resourceful he could be when he thought it necessary. She had been at the Mayfair clinic one Friday evening when, returning early from what she knew had been a tiring business trip, he’d phoned to suggest that they had dinner together.

Having agreed to work later than usual, and unwilling to keep him hanging about, she had said no, and arranged to meet him the next day for lunch. She had then spent the rest of the evening regretting her decision, and wishing she’d said yes.

When she had left for home, he was waiting for her.

Leaning nonchalantly against his Porsche, wearing casual clothes and, though the sun had gone down, sunglasses, he had straightened at her approach and moved purposefully to bar her way.

Her heart had leapt and gladness fizzed through her like champagne.

‘What are you doing here?’ As he took her arm and drew her towards the car, she added lightly, ‘And why the shades?’

‘This is an abduction, doll,’ he said in the accent of an American film gangster.

‘Good gracious! Didn’t I ought to scream?’

‘If I was following the script, I should say menacingly, “Not if you know what’s good for you”.’

‘Oh.’

‘On the other hand, it would give me an excuse to kiss you,’ he drawled laconically.

Lifting her face, she asked demurely, ‘Do you need an excuse?’

‘An invitation’s better. Not that I really need either.’ Bending his dark head, he kissed her with a hungry passion that showed how much he’d missed her.

Then, as though his lips couldn’t bring themselves to part from hers, he murmured between soft, baby kisses, ‘I can’t wait to make love to you. I’ve thought about nothing else while I’ve been away.

‘This afternoon, in Paris, I brought an important boardmeeting to an early close because I couldn’t concentrate. I kept imagining I was undressing you, touching you, feeling your response…I couldn’t wait to get back, to make it all happen…’

A little breathlessly, she asked, ‘So what are we doing standing here?’

‘That’s a good question.’

He hurried her into the car and, sliding in beside her, started the engine.

When they turned down an unfamiliar road, she queried, ‘Where are we going?’

Sounding happy and carefree, he told her, ‘To a little inn called the Woolpack. It’s right off the beaten track and no one will care if we stay in bed for the entire weekend.’

‘Oh, but I…’

He glanced at her sharply. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me you have other commitments?’

Judging from his tone, if she said yes it would precipitate a showdown, and she wasn’t prepared.