Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart: Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart

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

Barbara Wallace

The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart Nestled away in the beautiful Swiss Alps, Armand’s exclusive resort is the perfect place for TV presenter Rachel to escape the media spotlight. Prickly Rachel’s so afraid of letting anyone close that she’s built a fortress around her heart. But Armand knows he’s the man who can help knock it down… Daring to Date the Boss As a busy single mum, Liz is the queen of control. But the arrival of new boss Charles sweeps the rug from under her feet. Suddenly she’s sharing sizzling kisses with the devastatingly handsome CEO. Yet she’s struggling to believe that beneath his frosty exterior lies a heart that will beat for her, for always…

The TycoonWho Healed HerHeart

Melissa James

Daring to Datethe Boss

Barbara Wallace

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart

Melissa James

Dear Reader,

This is a book about new beginnings. Life forces changes on us all. What we do with those changes and how we grow with them is what makes us the people we are. And sometimes a very special person comes along and the journey becomes beautiful.

I hope you enjoy Rachel and Armand’s journey.

Melissa

To my lovely sister CP and confidante Mia.

We’ve always been there for each other, through all the ups and downs of life.

About the Author

MELISSA JAMES is a born-and-bred Sydneysider who swapped the beaches of the New South Wales Central Coast for the Alps of Switzerland a few years ago. Wife and mother of three, a former nurse, she fell into writing when her husband brought home an article about romance writers and suggested she should try it—and she became hooked. Switching from romantic espionage to the family stories of Mills & Boon

was the best move she ever made. Melissa loves to hear from readers—you can e-mail her at: authormelissajames@yahoo.com.

CHAPTER ONE

Graubünden Region, Swiss Alps

‘YOU’RE doing much better,’ Rachel Chase’s ski instructor said as he performed a smooth cross-country sliding ski across the final slope towards the Bollinger Alpine Resort.

‘It’s not true, Matt, but thank you for persisting with me.’ With a grateful smile, Rachel filled her lungs with crisp, clean mountain air, set her jaw, turned her face and kept sliding across the baby slope. It was humiliating, but she constantly had to grab hold of his hand.

Probably she just didn’t have the confidence to ski, but in every other way the Bollinger Alpine Resort had been the perfect hideout. The staff took excellent care of her in this lake-filled valley nestled beneath the Alps, and with complete discretion. When Max, the manager, had offered her refuge in a hideaway cabin at the back of the resort, she’d grabbed the chance.

For a week she’d refused to unpack, remaining ready to run again. The peace felt too good to be true after the nightmare of ringing phones and flashing cameras she’d endured in LA after Pete’s lies had hit the headlines. She shuddered to think what it was like now ‘Dr Pete’ had discovered he could only fix his failing ratings, and hang onto the fame and adulation he craved, by publicly reuniting with the wife he’d denounced as a cheater.

Rachel rubbed her wrist. It had long since healed, but it was symbolic. An hour after she’d seen a doctor privately and alone to have the broken limb put in a cast, she’d had the locks changed and filed for a temporary restraining-order. She hadn’t pressed charges—it would have destroyed Pete—but she’d go to court if he touched her again. Her lawyer had made that crystal clear.

Her phone had been off for weeks. He couldn’t use tracking, charm, love, guilt or even her mother and sister to get his way. She had enough to deal with learning how to survive alone, without the constant knowledge that her family loved Pete more than they’d ever loved her.

A soft voice asked from behind her, ‘Rachel, are you okay? Does the key not work?’

She started. Though Pete had only hit her twice before she’d left him, it had left its mark in a nervous reaction she hadn’t learned to control yet. After a deep breath she turned to the pretty brunette with the hint of willowy figure that Rachel had once had to starve herself to maintain. Apart from her second cousin Suzie—who’d arranged her new name, two new passports with different names and had given her thousands of dollars Pete couldn’t trace—the members of staff at Bollinger Alpine Resort were the only people she could trust.

She apologised in German and entered the cabin. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Monika.’ She unclipped and with both hands pulled off her snow boots and damp, tight ski socks.

Monika had brought her lunch. Jami and Max joined her soon after to listen to her stories about life as a celebrity wife in Tinsel Town. She dredged another story from the depths of all she wanted to forget for the sake of those who were risking their livelihoods to protect her.

From the corner of the terrasse he watched the woman holding court, three members of staff watching her in adoring awe, as if she was an affable duchess. He’d watched her trying to ski before, pretending to stumble so she could hold the hand of a young, handsome ski instructor.

He’d known women like her before and he despised them—using wiles and fame to get their way. She charmed people into falling into her hand. Obviously she revelled in being the centre of attention. And she was good at it: the sweet, rueful manner combined with her fawn-like eyes and her ‘big as Texas, big as her heart’ smile was a lethal cocktail for the uninitiated.

What a shame for Mrs Rachel Rinaldi—the now-infamous ‘Mrs Dr Pete’ of chat-show legend—that he’d been initiated into how far one could fall when the fame bubble burst. He wasn’t naïve or stupid. He’d been taken, burned, lied to and left broken before she even left grade school—and he’d never let anyone do it to him since.

Mrs Rinaldi was about to discover just how far her charm would get her.

‘And so He That Shall Not Be Named insisted those ten seconds of footage be cut from the interview. Apparently a top-action hero’s being human enough to trip on a step and fall flat on his face could ruin his entire career and cause his wife to divorce him—quote, unquote.’

‘I assume my invitation to this party was lost in the post.’ The giggles and snorts of her friends died. Brow furrowed, Rachel turned to see what was wrong, but with one look her breath caught in her lungs.

A man of dark, dangerous male beauty stood in the doorway. His tight, brooding sensuality hit her in the solar plexus like a drive-by shot. His features weren’t quite classic, but his stormy eyes and sensuous mouth more than made up for the lack of perfection. His bearing had a loose-limbed elegance and his lean, strong body was encased in a dove-grey suit that complemented his eyes. She blinked hard once or twice. It felt as if the room was spinning around her—but this had happened to her once before …

I am not that girl now. She forced her eyes to remain open, focused on him. No man would ever make her close her eyes or fall to her knees again, physically or emotionally.

She held his gaze, returning it with an openness most men found unnerving. Yes, the man knew how to dress, to impress a woman with a glance, but it was probably all for show.

Definitely ‘been there, done that’—and she’d thrown out the T-shirt.

‘A shame, since it seems I’m the host.’ The new arrival spoke quietly, but small flickers of restrained lightning showed in each word. His dark-grey eyes rested upon the occupants of the cabin one by one. And she’d thought she knew how to unnerve others …

‘Herr Bollinger, uh, welcome back. We were not aware of your arrival.’ Max spoke in German, with a nervous twitch in his left eye. Monika squirmed, and Jami gazed at the door as if it held the secrets of life.

Bollinger. So this was the resort’s owner, the son of a French multi-millionaire and a French-Swiss movie star. She’d seen pictures of him from about twelve years ago, when he’d been in the top ten of the World’s Beautiful People, but she’d never seen him in the flesh. Armand Bollinger—the man nicknamed ‘the Wolf’ for his brilliance in business circles as well as in his love life. And, now she had seen him, she knew why. The leashed storm in him took Rachel’s breath anew.

He stepped inside the room, filling it with an air of absolute command, even as he spoke with exquisite courtesy. ‘I’d like to speak with our guest alone, thank you.’ He glanced at each of his staff in turn. Without a word, Jami, Max and Monika fled, and she couldn’t blame them.

The man turned to her with a smile that was perfect, welcoming and professional. ‘Ms Chase, I am Armand Bollinger.’ He didn’t waste words he didn’t need, such as ‘I am the owner of the resort’. His voice sounded like chocolate brandy ought to taste. In a suit whispering Savile Row, and a linen shirt two shades darker than the trousers, he was the epitome of European elegance.

So why did she sense such a dark cloud hovering inside him? He seemed the consummate beautiful stranger. Yet, looking just beneath the surface, she felt not the hunter but the wounded wolf, pushing ancient scars out of existence by force of sheer will. ‘Are all your needs being met? Is there anything you need?’

That’s not why you came.

Her years of psychology training and practice had kicked in at first sight of him, without consciously trying. The owners of resorts did not commonly knock on doors to check on service levels; that was left to the managers. The resort owners she’d met might come to visit her if they discovered who she was, but they wouldn’t have the haunted look of Armand Bollinger’s eyes. Beneath the exquisite manners he wore with the same comfort as his excellent clothing, whatever it was he’d come to say sat ill on him.

He knows who I am.