His body too, she was sure—
She swallowed and cut the thought dead. It was entirely inappropriate and in no way helping her function in a manner befitting her professional role. He was a guest for goodness’ sake, a very important guest, the kind she should be impressing, not... What exactly was she doing?
‘Jack.’ He offered his hand and she jumped a little.
Great. Now she just looked scared. And judging by the way his brow lifted and his lips—his very full and teasing lips—quirked he’d not missed her overreaction either. Even better...
‘Sophia.’ She forced a smile and quickly slotted her hand in his, but his eyes stayed locked with hers, their intensity making her feel exposed, as if he could read every debauched thought racing through her mind and her cheeks flushed all over again.
Another swallow, another breath and a shake of the hand. At least she hoped she’d shaken it because the warmth zinging along her fingers, through her wrist, her arm and settling somewhere around her tummy made it hard to focus on the actual giving of a handshake.
He didn’t seem disturbed though; his eyes were sharp as they assessed her. For what she couldn’t really tell, but she had a fair idea what a panther’s prey felt like seconds before it pounced.
Maybe it was his unruly dark hair, the rich colour to his skin and the slant to his dramatic grey eyes that had her heading down the wild-cat route. Whatever the case, she was off on some weird tangent where professionalism continued to evade her.
‘I like Sphea. Can she come for tea, Daddy?’
What? No! Sophia’s laugh came out a strangled mess, thankfully drowned out by a sudden bellow from the man before her. So the panther was capable of laughter. Fascinating. And distracting. Especially when she should be drawing a line under that right now. She did not socialise, fraternise or any other ise with the clientele.
‘I think Sphea has far more important things to be taking care of...’
The way he mimicked his daughter’s pronunciation of her name had her entire insides turning to mush and she opened her mouth to agree but nothing came out.
‘Unless, of course, that is not the case?’
He turned to pin her with that far too astute gaze. ‘Then you would be more than welcome this evening, as a thank you for finding my little runaway.’
Sophia looked from him to the little girl staring imploringly up at her, eyes the colour of her father’s, and erupted in a nervous giggle which she abruptly quit as her eyes caught sight of Andrew in the open doorway. He was positively beaming, reading whatever he fancied into her crazed behaviour. Great.
She would sort that, just as soon as she turned down Mr McGregor’s very kind and far too appealing offer. But how exactly could she turn down their most lucrative customer without causing offence?
Stick to work—something he’d understand...
* * *
What are you doing, Jack?
Looking down into the alluring blue gaze of Sophia Lambert, he really had no idea. She was the hotel manager, not some new friend his daughter had taken a shine to. He blamed the crazy suggestion entirely on Lily of course. If she hadn’t put the idea out there, he certainly wouldn’t have thought of it and he definitely wouldn’t have found it as appealing as he did.
Hot off the back of the little display that had greeted him when he’d first entered the conference room, he wasn’t so certain he was thinking with his brain either. Two slender calves, a pair of stilettos and the knowledge that the woman had got down to his daughter’s level, no airs and graces, tugged at him even now.
Sophia blinked, and blinked again, her cheeks a delightful shade of pink as her eyes adjusted to some unknown thought and then she drew in a breath and crouched down to Lily’s height.
His view was reduced to her auburn hair, knotted high, her escaped curls that brushed over the creamy skin at her nape and the dusting of freckles that disappeared into the high neck of her navy dress. He cleared his throat, surprised to find his mouth as dry as the Sahara.
‘It’s so kind of you to offer, Lily,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m afraid I need to work.’
‘Now you sound like Daddy.’
He cringed inwardly as Sophia sent him a brief look. It wasn’t how he wanted to be; it was how he had to be. You didn’t get to run a billion-pound company taking it easy. You didn’t get to provide a financially stable home without putting in the hours. Lily had so much more than he’d ever had, and his work saw to it she always would.
‘Well, you see this big building—this hotel?’ Lily nodded at her. ‘If I don’t work, then this place doesn’t work. I make sure important guests like you are taken care of and have a good time.’
‘You’re the boss lady?’
Sophia laughed, the sound reaching all the way inside him and teasing at the edges of his mouth.
‘Yes, I’m the boss lady.’
‘One day I want to be the big boss lady...on the moon.’
Sophia laughed again, her hand reaching out to stroke Lily’s cheek. ‘Then remember what I said about your maths and your reading.’
‘Maths and reading?’
Sophia nodded and Lily looked up at him. He was waiting for the eye roll; instead she hooked her tiny hand through his and looked back to Sophia with a firm nod. ‘Okay.’
‘Good girl.’ She ruffled Lily’s hair before rising up, her eyes finally coming back to his. They were still bright, but her cheeks had calmed, only a hint of pink remaining beneath the delicate sprinkling of freckles.
‘I trust you have everything you need in your room,’ she said smoothly, the difference in her marked. She was in work mode now and he found himself wanting the other version back, the version that had just spoken so kindly to his daughter.
‘But if there is anything at all that you require, please don’t hesitate to call down.’ She gestured for them to leave the room. ‘Shall we, Mr McGregor?’
‘Jack, please.’ Normally formal terms of address didn’t bother him; he was used to it. In her case, though, it seemed he couldn’t let it go.
He was treated to another flush of colour in her cheeks, something he was fast becoming attached to, and she cleared her throat. ‘Jack.’
Better. Much better.
Her eyes evaded him now as she sought out her assistant manager. ‘Andrew, could you see Jack and Lily to their room, please, and relieve Marie.’
‘Of course.’
Jack looked to the elderly gentleman and knew who he’d rather be escorted by. Perhaps his lack of interest in the dating scene was taking its toll. It wasn’t as if opportunities didn’t present themselves but what had first been an avoidance of women, especially in the months following Elena’s death, had now become a habit. Life was far less complicated when it was just him and Lily to think about. Him, Lily and work.
‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr—Jack, and Lily. I hope you enjoy your stay.’ She turned and swept from the room, no backward glance. And he wanted one.
‘Daddy?’ Lily tugged on his hand and he looked down at her.
‘Yes?’
‘I think you should change her mind.’
He laughed, but inside he completely agreed with his little girl.
And what was that about?
He had no idea.
But the desire was there, all the same.
CHAPTER TWO
SOPHIA RUBBED THE back of her neck and stifled a yawn. Before her, the computer screen started to blur, facts and figures forming indistinct lines and making her squint. It was gone ten and she should have left work long ago but all that waited for her was an empty apartment and her thoughts. Neither of which she could bring herself to cope with.
Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow it would be February, marking the end of another anniversary. Ten years since the death of her sister. A decade of guilt and grief. Time
was supposed to heal. Make it easier. Soothe the horrors of the past. Whoever said that was either an idealist or a liar.
A short rap on the door put an end to her depressive stupor and she looked to it.
‘Yes?’
The door opened and Andrew poked his head around. ‘Isn’t it time you left?’
‘I will, soon.’
He nodded but didn’t make to leave, his eyes narrowed on her instead. ‘Mr McGregor seemed nice.’
Sophia’s heart gave an involuntary flutter, just as it had every time she’d found herself reflecting on their little encounter that afternoon. ‘Yes, and were they happy when you left?’
‘Well, I think Ms Archer would’ve been happier to see the child disciplined more, but as far as their accommodation goes they’re happy enough.’
‘Good.’
‘So, I’m off...’ He hesitated on the threshold. ‘You will go home soon?’
Sophia gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Yes, soon.’
‘Okay, goodnight.’
‘’Night.’
He pulled the door closed and Sophia looked back to her computer screen, starting to kill the applications still running. She was about to shut down her internet browser when the face of Jack McGregor came back to her, the instant effect he’d had on her pulse just as effective now.
She’d never felt anything like it. Ever. She was a twenty-four-year-old woman with zero relationship experience, zero experience of men really, unless you counted the odd fumbling kiss in her teens. She’d pretty much considered that part of her physical make-up dead, any frisson of excitement lost in her well-controlled exterior and the persistent ache left by the loss of Amy, her happy-go-lucky sister.
But she’d felt it looking into his eyes, she couldn’t deny it. Not just the thrill, the kick to her pulse; there had been a connection she couldn’t shake. It had taken her all to reinstate the professional front, turn down his offer of dinner and leave.
Was it the fact he had suffered too? The loss of someone he had loved? Was there some weird underlying connection drawing her to him?
She wasn’t an old romantic. When her friends had dreamed of fairy-tale weddings, two-point-four children and happy-ever-afters she’d thrown herself into her studies, making sure she was the best she could possibly be, that she achieved and achieved. Not that it had made her home life easier.
No, she’d been invisible to her parents. It didn’t matter what she did, what awards she won, what promotion she earned. She could never bring back her little sister, the one she should have been taking care of when it happened—an accident she herself had instigated.
That same wrenching motion took hold of her gut and her hand went to her stomach, her lungs dragging in air. It would pass. The nausea always did soon enough. But the force of it was always the same, the pain no less than it had been when she was fourteen.
But today...today she’d had a glimpse of an entirely different emotion, one that gave her hope that she had no right to feel, and her fingers moved to the keyboard, almost of their own volition, his name appearing letter by letter. She hit the enter key before she could reconsider and there he was, filling her screen: images across the top, article after article listed below.
What are you doing, Sophia?
It was likely he had no interest in her. Why would he? He was a billionaire businessman leading a life set so far apart from her own...but it didn’t stop her looking, didn’t stop her seeking the distraction he so readily represented, or preventing the spark he lit within her.
She smiled at the screen, her body indulging in the escapist fantasy he represented and for the first time in her life she understood the dreams of her peers in their teens.
Shame she was far too wise for dreams, far too weathered to find passion, fun and whatever else Jack had inspired in her. But sitting there in the privacy of her office she could pretend she was normal, that she was capable of more, that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be dead on the inside too.
* * *
Jack was at a loss.
He’d dealt with Connor and the unexpected hurdle in their takeover bid. He had calmed Ms Archer to the point that she hadn’t chosen to pack in the job altogether and he’d decided to give her one more chance. And he’d been on hand at bedtime, coaxing Lily into her pyjamas and bed without too much fuss. But his daughter’s last words as he’d bade her goodnight echoed with his own internal plea.
Please can we see Sphea again?
He rarely had an interest in anyone outside of Lily, outside of work. The last time he had tried for more he’d been a disappointment, long before the hit-and-run, long before Lily even. He’d tried to make Elena happy, he truly had, but it had never been enough—he wasn’t enough.
He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned forward in his chair, reaching out for the whisky decanter on his desk and pouring a decent measure.
The fact was he never wanted to be in that position again. He’d grown up with nothing. Put into care at the age of six when his mother had shown more interest in getting her next fix than feeding her own son. He’d spent his childhood acting out, angry at the world, at her, for being alone, unwanted and unloved. There had been the promise that his mother would get better, that she would have him back, until finally she’d died of an overdose when he was nine. No, he’d been destined for a troubled childhood of foster homes and he’d soon realised that if he ever wanted to gain control over his life he needed to take charge of his own destiny and that meant becoming financially independent.
He’d thrown himself into his studies, working hard to ensure he could stand alone, and on that journey he’d met Elena. A foster child like him, they’d been homed together at thirteen and grown close, their family history so similar it had given them a bond that no one could take away.
He’d sworn he’d take her with him, he’d look out for her; she too would escape the bad hand they’d been dealt. She’d loved him and he had loved her too, in so much as he could. Though over time it had become more like friendship—to him at any rate—only he hadn’t realised it quickly enough.
The day she’d asked him to marry her he’d known it. He’d known it and couldn’t bear the pain of telling her. And then she’d produced the pregnancy test, a shock to them both, and he’d known he could never tell her.
He’d set aside his own feelings to do right by her, as he’d always promised, and they’d married, they’d had Lily, and he had worked harder than ever. Longer hours, more trips away. Part avoidance. Part habit. But their relationship had suffered; she’d wanted more of him, more family time, more couple time, more love.
The night of the accident he’d been working late—another failed promise to come home in time for dinner. She’d left the food on the table, taken Lily in the buggy and headed out to the park. It was how he’d found the house when he’d returned home from the hospital, a sleeping Lily in his arms. Quiet. Dark. Cold.
He threw back the whisky, needing its burn to neutralise the churn in his gut.
Elena had been lonely. He’d made her lonely. She’d loved him and he’d repaid her with...what?
No, he didn’t deserve another’s love. Save for Lily’s. He’d take that and give her back his all. She was his priority. The only one he needed to be concerned with.
So why did he want more time with Sophia? Why would he want to get mixed up in something that could only complicate things?
He clenched the whisky glass tighter in his hand and stared out unseeing at the impressive London skyline. The view that made the hotel penthouse one of the best in London was wasted on him right now. And just what would Ms Lambert say to that?
He conjured her up in his mind’s eye—the appeal of her creamy, freckled skin, her over-bright blue eyes and that mass of red hair he could only imagine splayed out upon his pillow...and felt the heat of attraction he hadn’t exper
ienced in so long burning away the chill, the emptiness...and in Elena’s city of all places. Their city.
His throat closed over, his hand pulsing around the whisky glass as guilt swelled just as quickly, forcing hatred on its tail. Because he did hate London. It had been their home and she had died there. But it wasn’t hate that had engulfed him the second he’d laid eyes on the fascinating hotel manager. No, it had been far more potent and far more disturbing than that.
It was also the reason he couldn’t sleep. And drinking alone in his penthouse wasn’t improving his mood. He should have gone to the gym rather than hit the bottle, but two whiskies in and exercise was out.
Perhaps the hotel bar would be preferable. The in-house pianist was talented and at least the gentle hum of people might distract him from the inner workings of his brain that seemed determined to flip-flop between the pain of the past and the potentially disruptive Ms Lambert.
* * *
Eleven o’clock. So much for leaving just after Andrew had bade her goodnight.
Instead, she’d lost herself in the enigma that was Mr McGregor—Jack.
Married to his childhood sweetheart, father to one girl and an orphan who’d come from nothing and made billions. It was the perfect fairy tale and the tabloids had capitalised on it, not holding back on the personal details they divulged either, worst of which was his mother’s demise in a drug den, and that his father was unknown.
Her heart ached for him even as she read on. It seemed he fared better these days. No salacious gossip pertaining to his private life, no pictures of his daughter, no rumoured love interests since the passing of his wife. It was all business-or charity-related news and her admiration of him swelled.
Just what would it be like to sit across a table from this man and learn what made him tick, what made him the man he was today, to achieve all he had, to continue to achieve when he’d lost the closest person to him. His wife. The odd picture existed of them together at events. She had been beautiful, a statuesque blonde to his tall, dark good looks. But now she was gone, taken from their daughter before she’d had a chance to see her grow.
Tempted by the Tycoon's Proposal Page 2