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

Eve looked gratified. ‘And there’s more…’

‘More?’

‘According to Joanne, who always seems to know these things, he inherited Charn Industries from Christopher Charn, his godfather…Which must make him a multimillionaire, and a prime catch.

‘Though so far apparently he’s managed to elude the hook and stay a bachelor. Which is a challenge in itself. A challenge I wouldn’t mind taking up if I got half a chance. After all, a multimillionaire must be worth the risk of getting fired.

‘Ah, well,’ Eve sighed as she continued, ‘I suppose I mustn’t let myself dream. He’s hardly likely to be interested in the likes of me. With those kinds of looks and that amount of charisma, Rafe Lombard must have women queuing up to throw themselves at his feet.’

No doubt Eve was right, Madeleine sighed, and pushed all thoughts of Rafe Lombard firmly to the back of her mind.

‘Finished with these?’ At the other girl’s nod, Eve gathered up the notes and headed for the door. ‘Well, I’m off. I’ve a date with Dave. See you Tuesday. Don’t spend all weekend at the nursing home. Try to get out a bit.’

‘I’ll try.’

Since her mother had suffered severe head injuries in the gas explosion that had wrecked their rented house, she had spent most of her free time by the sick woman’s bedside.

Sitting hour after hour with the corpse-like figure, talking or reading to her, not knowing how much, if anything, her mother understood, had taken a heavy toll on Madeleine.

As had the death of Madeleine’s husband, Colin, in the same tragic accident. An accident she could only blame herself for.

As the weeks turned into months, finding she was no longer any fun, most of her friends had drifted away, and only Eve and Noel had stuck by her wholeheartedly.

Eve, in her usual cheerful, down-to-earth way, had provided an emotional crutch, while Noel had been there for her in a practical capacity.

First he had helped her find somewhere to live, then he had taken her out, chivvied her to eat and done his utmost to raise her spirits while she tried to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

As a shoulder to cry on, Noel was the first to admit that he was useless. But when she had needed someone to make her laugh, to forget for a short time at least that she needed a shoulder to cry on, he had been ideal.

When he’d gone to work abroad, troubleshooting for an oil company, she had missed him. Missed his unstinting support, his irreverent tongue, his spiky sense of humour and laid-back attitude.

Missed having a man in her life.

Since she had been on her own several men had tried to get on more than friendly terms with her. But, well aware that, in the circumstances, the odds were stacked against any new relationship succeeding, she had steered clear.

After being alone so long it was time to move on, she knew, yet no one had attracted her enough to act as the catalyst to make her want to take the chance.

Until today. And that attraction, fierce though it was, was futile.

Becoming aware that time was slipping past, she closed the window and collected her shoulder-bag before letting herself out through a side-door and heading for the main gates.

On rainy days she caught the bus back to her Knightsbridge flat, but during the dry, settled spell of weather that had lasted for almost a week now, she had enjoyed walking home.

Tonight, however, having reached the imposing gates and turned west along Grizedale Street, she felt oddly weary and dispirited, in no mood for the thirty-minute walk.

She had just drawn level with a midnight-blue limousine that was parked by the kerb, when its rear door opened and a tall, dark-haired figure climbed out.

Dazzled by the low evening sun, she took a moment to realise that the man blocking her way was Rafe Lombard.

Surprise stopped her in her tracks, and as she shielded her eyes to look up at him he said easily, ‘I thought if I hung around a while I might catch you. Have dinner with me?’

He was tall, dwarfing her with his height. If they were standing closer her head would rest on his broad chest.

Confused by the thought, she found herself stammering, ‘N-no, thank you.’

‘Perhaps it was stupid to spring it on you like this, but now I’ve admitted I’m an idiot,’ he laughed, ‘won’t you reconsider and go out with me?’

With a flash of humour, she said, ‘What? Go out with a self-confessed idiot?’

He gave her an appreciative grin. ‘Think of the entertainment value.’

She shook her head. ‘I can bear to give it up.’

‘Surely not!’ he mocked gently.

‘Afraid so.’

‘Go on. I promise I don’t bite.’

Madeleine lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

Putting his head on one side, he asked, ‘Why not?’

His face was so full of charm that it took her breath away and turned her very bones to water.

Her voice sounding impeded, she said, ‘It’s against the clinic’s policy for staff and clients to get familiar or meet on a social basis.’

He grimaced at the prim phrasing. ‘If we do get familiar I promise not to breathe a word to a soul.’

‘I’m not dressed for eating out.’

‘You look absolutely fine to me.’ He grinned.

Before she could make any further protest, she found herself drawn towards the car and urged into the back seat.

He slid in beside her, and she went hot all over when his muscular thigh pressed against hers as he reached to fasten first her seat belt and then his own.

Sensing that heated confusion, and warning himself not to rush things, he moved away to leave a little space between them.

With a silent sigh of relief, she glanced at him.

He met her gaze directly. The sun slanting in showed that her long-lashed aquamarine eyes had in their depths a sprinkle of gold dust, and her flawless skin a peach-like down.

His fingers itched to stroke it.

Controlling the urge, he asked lightly, ‘Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?’

Wits scattered, knowing she shouldn’t be here at all, she shook her head. ‘No, I—’