Tempted by the Tycoon's Proposal

by Rachael Stewart

  Would it hurt, just for one night, to pretend it was all possible? To pretend it was a date? A real date? To go with the flow, go with...? His fingers fluttered against her lower back, reminding her of their presence, their effect, and her breath caught with her silent agreement.

  When going with the flow felt this good, how could she possibly fight it?

  ‘I hope you like Chinese.’

  ‘Hmm?’ was all she could manage as she focused on keeping her legs moving and not turning to jelly beneath her.

  ‘This restaurant used to be a favourite of mine,’ he added.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Oh, goodness, Sophia, is that really the best you can do? ‘I’m so hungry I could eat pretty much anything right now.’

  She flicked him a look, saw his eyebrow raise at her impulsive statement and snapped her eyes back ahead. He thought she meant him. Him.

  She nearly swallowed her tongue and threw her attention to the night doorman instead. ‘Evening, Henry.’

  ‘Miss Lambert.’ He held the door open for them both and smiled. ‘Have a good evening.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jack said, his focus returning to Sophia. ‘I’d tell you to put your coat on but my driver’s waiting for us and the car will be warm.’

  He looked to a sleek black car parked up in the circular courtyard, its driver, dressed in livery, already pulling open the rear door.

  Wow. The number of times she had greeted or bade farewell to influential clients in this entrance, dreamed of how their lives would be, so different to her own, and now here she was, doing the exact same thing.

  Her grip on reality really was wavering, but in that moment, as she thanked his driver and slipped inside the luxurious interior of his car, she didn’t care.

  Reality could wait a few more hours at least...

  * * *

  Jack waited for her to get settled into the back seat before joining her a respectful distance away, but her presence radiated down his side, his pulse hammering in a way it hadn’t since...since for ever.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she played with her fingers upon her lap, her attention on the outside world as his driver pulled out into the traffic.

  She wore a similar dress to the previous day, only now she’d lost the ID badge. Her hair was once again knotted up high, her make-up sparse and natural, and her ears were adorned with small pearl droplets that drew his attention to her long, slender neck. She had an effortless poise about her that made her as elegant as any date he’d had before.

  Though this wasn’t a date. Nothing of the sort. It was a thank-you meal to keep his daughter happy.

  He just had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

  ‘Something tells me you work late a lot?’ It was a question aimed to distract himself from his thoughts, but as she looked to him, her eyes sparkling with humour, he could no longer deny the reason he was here was because, above all else, he wanted to be.

  And he wanted it to be a date, to take her out to dinner regardless of whether it was wise or sensible, without guilt.

  ‘Something tells me you do too.’ Her voice was light, teasing, and he found himself grinning.

  ‘Fair point.’

  She returned his smile, her fingers ceasing their nervous play. ‘I take it you’re in London on business?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I was hoping it would be a week, but it’s looking more like two now.’

  She frowned a little. ‘You’re in a hurry to leave then?’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘You were the one who said you hoped to be gone sooner,’ she reminded him, not missing a beat. ‘I assume that’s because you’re wanting to be gone.’

  She waved a hand through the air and he had to stop himself from frowning as he thought about the reason he wanted to be gone. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want anything to put a damper on their evening, not now they were heading out together. Alone. Just the two of them.

  And there came the guilt again...the timely reminder of Elena and his biggest failure. He glanced out of the window and London looked back at him, full of its memories. He breathed through it and schooled his expression.

  ‘I was,’ he said, facing her again. ‘London isn’t... London isn’t exactly a city I’m fond of.’

  Her eyes scanned his face, her curiosity at his remark obvious, but he did the same, taking advantage of her attention to drink her in, her natural beauty, her appeal that warmed him all the way to the bone, and he realised that London looked slightly less grey now. ‘But perhaps staying longer isn’t such a bad thing.’

  Her eyes met his and he added carefully, ‘Lily certainly likes the idea.’

  She nodded, her smile full of affection. ‘She seems like a great kid.’

  ‘That she is.’

  ‘Do you travel a lot with her?’

  ‘Quite a bit.’

  ‘So where’s home when you’re not travelling?’

  Home? Nowhere. Not since London, not since Elena. A cold sweat instantly spread, the hairs at his nape prickling against the crisp collar of his shirt and sending his eyes back to the outside world, safe from her astute gaze.

  He clenched his hand into the soft leather seat and tried to keep his voice neutral. ‘We don’t have one as such. I have headquarters in various continents and I move between them depending on where I’m needed most.’

  She was quiet for a while and he took the time to regain that sense of ease, to put the past to bed for a few hours at least.

  ‘She must be well travelled for a... How old is she?’

  ‘Five—she’s six in a few weeks.’ And she was excited about it too, birthdays becoming a bigger deal now. His heart and body softened as he remembered their conversation just last night and how they had to count the number of sleeps remaining.

  ‘Ah, a birthday—how lovely! And what has she asked for?’

  ‘A pony.’

  Sophia’s laugh tinkled through the car, taking away the last of his unease with it. ‘Every little girl goes through that phase.’

  ‘You too?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my sister and I...’ A slight tremor entered her voice and she shook her head, her throat bobbing as her eyes flitted away for a second, and when they came back there was a sheen that hadn’t existed before. But still she smiled, the gesture such a contrast to her sudden sadness. ‘We begged for one, just one to share if we couldn’t have one each.’

  He couldn’t take his eyes from the look in hers. ‘And did you get your wish?’ he asked softly.

  She shook her head and he knew the sheen of tears had nothing to do with the pony. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he didn’t want to make it worse. He didn’t want to upset her. He tried to think of something else to say—anything to fill the void, to distract her—but the look in her eyes haunted him. It made him want to delve deeper, have her talk, and in turn he could offer...offer what? Comfort? Distraction from whatever this was?

  His eyes fell to her lips and he felt the pull swell exponentially, felt it wrap around them, drawing them closer. Did she feel it too?

  ‘So...’ her voice drew him up sharply, his eyes lifting to hers to catch the way her lashes fluttered, her breath shaky as she visibly sought to regain control ‘...is she getting a pony?’

  He gave a laugh that sounded more like a bark as he tried to relax into his seat. What was wrong with him? He was used to beautiful women up close and personal, but never had he felt so out of control of his senses.

  Maybe it was the hint of trauma, of darkness he glimpsed in her too. The one thing he could understand, feel connected to.

  ‘Hardly.’ He raked a hand over his hair and looked to the window, to the far less evocative passing world. ‘They don’t exactly fit in a suitcase, and she has no need for one, not when I bought her an entire stud farm last year.�
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  ‘You bought her what?’ she choked out, half-laughing, half-incredulous, calling his gaze back to her.

  ‘Last year she asked for a horse,’ he explained with a shrug, ‘and it seemed like a wise investment opportunity.’

  ‘I don’t think she was thinking about its investment potential.’

  He grinned now. ‘No, that much is true, but she has one of the racehorses named in her honour and she gets to sit on him occasionally.’

  ‘Right...okay...’ She gave a downward smile, her head nodding as her eyes twinkled under the passing streetlights. No sadness now.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you think she was looking more for a pet, a friend of some sort?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks asking for a pony will give her that. I’m surprised she hasn’t asked for a puppy.’

  ‘Oh, she’s asked for one of those too.’

  ‘And it’s a no?’

  ‘Again, not suitcase-friendly and it wouldn’t be fair to lug it from country to country, not to mention the vaccinations, the pet passport, the poo...’ He shuddered. ‘No, it’s a definite no.’

  A crease formed between her brows and she looked desperate to say something.

  ‘What is it?’ he probed when she wasn’t forthcoming.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and looked to the window.

  ‘Nothing again, hey?’ He had to drag his eyes from her mouth, from the plump flesh caught in her teeth, taunting him with the urge to run his thumb over it, release it...kiss it. He cleared his suddenly tight throat. ‘Well, if that’s your “nothing” face, I’d love to see what you look like when you are thinking something.’

  She gave him a guilty smile, snuffing out the desire with rising curiosity. Just what was she thinking?

  ‘It doesn’t feel my place to say.’

  He tensed. ‘Now I really am curious.’

  ‘Well...it can’t be easy on her, travelling all the time.’

  ‘She’s seeing the world. There aren’t many five-year-olds that can claim to have visited as many incredible cities as she has.’

  ‘But what does she do for schooling?’

  The tension ratcheted up. ‘She’s taught by Ms Archer.’

  Her brow lifted. ‘She’s home-schooled?’

  ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing, but what other option is there when we travel so much?’

  ‘It’s...well, it’s just...when does she get to see other children, have play dates, that sort of thing?’

  He frowned at her, the tension making him snap. ‘My daughter wants for nothing. She’s kept safe, she’s well educated, and I’d like to think well-rounded too.’

  She shook her head softly. ‘But it must be lonely for her? Especially if you don’t have a base, a place to call home.’

  Surely home was where he was. It was why he took her everywhere with him. He wouldn’t be the poor excuse for a father that he’d once been, always absent, always late.

  ‘It’s a well-known fact that children are quite resilient to change.’ He knew he sounded petulant, defensive, but she’d got his hackles up.

  She studied him silently and he wondered whether she would argue more, dreading what she would say next, but instead she nodded.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. What do I know after all?’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not a parent and she is lovely, really truly...’

  She looked back to the window, but her words hung over him. No one had ever questioned his parenting before, not since Elena and her desperate plea for him to be around more. And now he was never far away from Lily—they had weekends and bedtimes.

  He could sense Sophia’s thoughts still whirring away and the need to defend himself, to explain, had him opening his mouth to speak but she got there first. ‘So what have you got against London?’

  It was the last thing he’d expected and he was ill-prepared for it, the direct hit winding him as his chest squeezed tight, the fateful night replaying in his head in freefall. The blood left his face and he saw her own eyes widen, her hand reaching out to softly touch his arm, sending an aftershock rippling through him, a confusing mix of heat teasing at the chill.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

  He was slow to respond. Slow to quash the swirl of emotion inside, slow to adjust to the warmth spreading beneath her touch. He never spoke of it. London. The past. Elena.

  ‘I read about your...your wife.’ Her eyes wavered over his face, projecting and evoking so much emotion that he couldn’t break free of it to speak. Thinking about Elena was one thing. Talking to Sophia of her was another.

  ‘I don’t talk about it.’ His voice was tight, dead, and he watched her nod, the sheen returning to her gaze.

  ‘I understand.’

  And then he saw it reappear in her gaze, heard it in her words. She didn’t simply understand; she felt it. She felt it as only someone who’d been there could. She’d lost someone too. He knew it just as clearly as if she’d told him so herself. And he forgot his own pain in hers.

  ‘Who was it?’

  Her lips parted in surprise, a subtle frown marring her brow. ‘Who?’

  ‘You’ve lost someone too.’ He covered her hand upon his arm as she shook her head, her pain tugging at a part of him he’d long since thought dead. ‘I can tell, Sophia. You don’t have to talk about it, not if you don’t want to, but...’

  She took a shaky breath, her fingers trembling beneath his as she swallowed and lifted her chin a little. ‘My sister.’

  ‘When?’

  She blinked back tears as she looked to him and the air caught in his lungs, her beauty all the more powerful for her sorrow. ‘Ten years ago.’

  ‘And yet it feels like yesterday?’

  She nodded, the knowledge passing between them, the shared understanding, the bond growing.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how much time passes,’ he said, the words easing out with their connection, ‘how many times I return to London, to where we lived together...’ He shook his head. We? More like she... He’d never been around. Absentee husband. Absentee father. His throat closed over. He couldn’t face up to his failings, not in front of Sophia, not when her soft blue gaze offered up sympathy he had no right to accept.

  He closed his fingers around her hand and squeezed gently, throwing the focus onto her. ‘I’m sorry you lost your sister.’

  She gave a small smile. ‘Isn’t it funny how we all say we’re sorry, like we’re in some way to blame for their death?’

  His blood ran cold. He was to blame for Elena’s. If he’d just come home in time for dinner, if he hadn’t taken that last phone call, if he hadn’t ignored her ringing him...

  ‘I guess it’s just a catch-all term, a way to express our sadness at the news of someone’s passing, the pain of those left behind, but you hear it so much you become numb to it.’

  ‘Yes.’ He felt her fingers flex beneath his seconds before she pulled away, saw her eyes cloud over as she twisted her hands together again.

  ‘What happened?’

  She stilled and he cursed his lack of tact. He never should have asked. But he wanted to know. He wanted to reach out for her once more, to pull her hand back, to offer and take comfort. Even though, to all intents and purposes, they were nothing more than strangers.

  Only she didn’t feel like a stranger and he had no idea what to make of that. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he’d opened up a part of himself that he always kept well hidden. And he could sense she had too.

  Maybe that was why he couldn’t let it go. Why, when his brain told him to change the subject, to pull away from the personal, something more powerful had him wanting her to open up. To talk to him.
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  He was a hypocrite. He didn’t want to talk about Elena and yet he was pushing her to talk about her sister. ‘I’m sorry. You really don’t have to talk about—’

  ‘It was a sledging accident, ten years ago yesterday in fact...’ Even though her eyes were on her hands, he could visualise the pain in them as she spoke, her words whisper-soft. ‘It was my fault too. I’d taken her out on my own while Mum and Dad were busy with friends. We were only supposed to be gone an hour, but we were having too much fun, and she begged me for a go on her own, just one... It seemed harmless enough. I’d done it a thousand times before, so I sat her in and gave her a push—’ She broke off, her body shuddering, her head lifting to look out of the window. ‘She came off and hit her head on a rock hidden in the snow.’

  His gut turned over with sickening force as the scene played out in his mind. ‘How old was she?’

  ‘Seven.’ It shuddered out of her.

  Seven. Barely older than his Lily. His gut rolled anew, her pain feeding his own, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He reached out for her hand. ‘It doesn’t make it your fault. It was an accident, a tragic accident, surely you can see that?’

  ‘But if I hadn’t taken her out, if we’d only stayed indoors, if I hadn’t said yes to that last ride, if I hadn’t pushed her...’ Her voice trailed off and he grasped both of her hands in his.

  ‘Hindsight is a powerful thing, Sophia. We can learn from it, but you shouldn’t let it torment you. It can’t change the past.’

  He should try telling himself the same too. Only he deserved to suffer. She didn’t. Maybe it was the guilt that bound them and not the loss. No matter how undeserving hers was.

  Her eyes snapped to his, adjusted, and then she was breathing deeply and blowing it out. ‘And you really didn’t need to know any of that. Sorry, let’s just—’

  He squeezed her hands, silencing her apology. ‘I wanted to know.’

  The silence settled around them, neither needing to speak, and the desire to draw her into him was there, aching in his arms, his chest.

  She shook her head a little. ‘I really don’t do this normally.’