Swept Away By The Enigmatic Tycoon

“Are you thinking of running the business on a permanent basis?” Mr. Blake glanced at her curiously.

“I sure am.” She beamed. “I can’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven again.”

Mr. Blake glanced over her shoulder, as if he were looking for someone, and then gave her a hesitant smile. “Well, good luck to you. When your order is ready I’ll give you a call. You can let me know then when you want the job done.”

“Sounds good!” Justine leafed through her bag and took out her car keys. “Thanks, Mr. Blake, and have a great day.”

Justine strode toward the exit, wondering why the expression on his face had seemed to change after her saying she couldn’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven. She grimaced when she came to the door. The rain was coming down in torrents now, and she regretted leaving her umbrella in the car. She would get drenched despite the short distance.

She made a run for it, giving a yelp as she stepped in a sizeable puddle.

“Damn,” she muttered as she inserted the wrong key in the lock. She should have brought a rain jacket, she berated herself, slamming the door at last.

Her top was plastered against her, and although she had planned to do some further shopping she was not about to go anywhere in this condition. Her jeans were soaked as well—front and back—and she couldn’t wait to get back home, strip everything off and take a shower.

She backed out carefully and drove out of the parking lot. Although it was barely mid-morning the sky had darkened, and she could hear ominous rumbles of thunder. Her wipers were going at full-tilt, but the rain was pelting the windshield so hard that she could barely see through it.

As Justine drove slowly out of the town limits and toward the long country road that would take her home she tried to ignore the clammy feeling of her wet clothes against her skin.

A sudden beeping noise behind her startled her, and she glanced immediately in the rearview mirror. She could see a burgundy pickup truck, but it was impossible to see the driver.

To Justine’s consternation the honking became more persistent. The truck didn’t have its indicators on, so the driver couldn’t be in any kind of trouble. And she didn’t imagine it was an admirer. She wasn’t unused to appreciative smiles from male drivers once in a while, along with the occasional whistle or honk of their horn, but she doubted that this was the case today.

The rain was subsiding—thank goodness. And as she looked in the rearview mirror again she saw that the driver had his arm out the window, signaling for her to pull over. Now she felt alarmed. Was it a cop? No, not in a pickup truck. And it wouldn’t be for speeding...

He honked again and she looked back, but a sudden rush of oncoming cars made her concentrate on the road. She cautiously pressed on the gas pedal. Too many weirdos on the road, she thought. She swerved around a bend, and a quick look reassured her that the creep was gone.

She reached the turnoff to Winter’s Haven. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds. She clicked off her wipers, headed directly past the office building and turned into the road through a lengthy wooded stretch that led to her driveway. She sighed, but had barely turned off the ignition when she heard the crunch of an approaching vehicle.

A moment later the burgundy pickup truck she’d thought she had seen the last of pulled up right next to her.

She was more angry than worried now. How dare he? Without a thought to any potential danger, she flung the car door open and got out, her cheeks flaming. The man had gotten out of his truck and was leaning against it, casually silent, as he watched Justine march stormily up to him.

“Why are you following me?” she demanded, stopping a few feet away from him. “It was bad enough trying to drive with you tailgating and honking incessantly. Can’t you find a more civilized way of pursuing a woman? Highway dramatics don’t do anything for me.”

The man’s mouth twisted and he continued to stare at her through dark sunglasses. A few seconds passed. Why wasn’t he answering her? Maybe she should have stayed in the car. He might have a knife. She could scream, but nobody was close enough to hear her.

She looked at him closely. She might need to file a report if she managed to get away from him. His faded jeans and jacket seemed ordinary enough, but his bearded face, dark glasses and baseball cap might very well be concealing the face of an escaped criminal. Would she be able to run back to her car? No, she’d never make it if he intended to pursue her.

She shivered and said shakily, “What do you want?”

Another twist of his lips. “Your hubcap flew off a few miles back,” he drawled. “So you can relax. I’m not about to attack you.”

Justine let out an audible sigh. And then she felt her cheeks start to burn. She had accused him of pursuing her.

“I’m usually more civilized when it comes to pursuing women,” he said, and laughed, as if he had read her thoughts. “And ‘highway dramatics,’ as I believe you put it, are not my style.”

Justine’s discomfiture grew. “I apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusion, but you can hardly blame me, can you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Your voice sounds familiar...”

For some reason, the realization bothered her.

A suspicion suddenly struck her in a way that made her knees want to buckle.

“Haven’t figured it out yet?” he said, removing his sunglasses.

Tiger eyes.Damn!

With the cap, sunglasses, casual clothes and truck, and two weeks’ growth of beard, she hadn’t even suspected.

“It’s...you!”she sputtered, wide-eyed.

“Nice to see you again, too,” Casson Forrester murmured, with the slightest hint of sarcasm. “Actually, I spotted you in the hardware store, but you left before I could reach you. There are a few things I want to discuss with you.”

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

“I didn’t think you’d accept my call.” His eyes narrowed. “Among other things, I was going to suggest you don’t bother paneling or doing any other kind of work if you’re going to end up selling the place...”

Justine’s eyes flashed their annoyance. “That’s your mistaken presumption,” she retorted. “And were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”

“I didn’t have to. Mr. Blake happened to mention it when I called a staff meeting.”

“You own Forrest Hardware?” she said slowly. “And Forrest Construction....”

Of course. Forrest was simply an abbreviated form of his name, and an appropriate choice for his chain of stores in the Muskoka area—including the latest one in Parry Sound. She had briefly noticed the new sign, but the name hadn’t registered in her consciousness—least of all the connection with its owner.

She gave a curt laugh. “No wonder you can buy practically anything—or anybody—you want.”

“Not always,” his tiger eyes glinted. “Although it’s not for lack of trying.”

She shivered. And at the sudden clap of thunder they both looked up to the sky. The clouds had blocked out the sun again, and a few errant raindrops had started coming down. Realizing she had been standing there in her wet T-shirt and jeans, her hair flattened against her head except for the few strands that were now curling with the humidity, she crossed her arms in front of her.

“Excuse me,” she said icily, “I’m going to have to leave.” She turned away, then glanced back. “I’ll look for the hubcap later.”

She retrieved her keys and bag from her car and strode toward the house. When she was halfway there the rain intensified, making her curse indelicately as she ran the rest of the way. Breathing a sigh of relief as she reached the door of the porch, she closed it behind her as another clap of thunder reverberated around her.

Hearing the porch door creak open again, she turned around to close it tightly. But it wasn’t the wind that had forced it open. It was Casson Forrester. And a big dog.

“I hope you don’t mind if we wait out the storm in your house.” He closed the porch door firmly. “Driving would be foolish in almost zero visibility. And Luna is terrified of storms.” He took off his cap and grinned at Justine. “Would you be so kind as to hand me a towel? I’d hate for us to drip all over your house.”

Justine blinked at the sight before her. Casson Forrester and his big panting dog, both dripping wet.

Casson took off his baseball cap and flung it toward the hook on the wall opposite him. It landed perfectly. He looked at her expectantly, one hand in a pocket of his jeans, the other patting Luna on the head. Both pant legs were soaked, along with his jean jacket.

She tore her gaze away from his formfitting jeans and looked at Luna. She’d make a mess in her house, for sure. She sighed inwardly. Did she have any choice but to supply this dripping duo with towels? She couldn’t very well let them stand there.

Anther clap of thunder caused Luna to give a sharp yelp, and she rose from her sitting position, looking like she wanted to bolt.

Justine blurted, “I’ll just be a minute,” and hurried inside, closing the door with a firm click. She wasn’t going to let either of them inside until they were relatively drip-free.