Taken by the Pirate Tycoon

by Daphne Clair

  Pictures ran through his head of Samantha locked in a passionate embrace with Bryn in his office, the two of them so lost in each other they didn’t even notice Bryn’s wife. “You had every right!”

  His harsh tone wakened his sister from her reverie. “As if it mattered anyway.” Almost idly she said, “Do you think they might have been lovers before?”

  Jase remained silent, hoping the question was rhetorical. Hoping the past tense was the correct one.

  “He admires Samantha,” Rachel said mournfully. “The very first time I saw her, I could see she was attracted to him.”

  Just as Jase had known, the first time he’d seen her.

  Rachel appeared to be pondering something, having trouble concentrating. She said, “I s’pose…” she paused again “…she’s got a company to run. Maybe she doesn’t want marriage—or children. Bryn married me because Pearl’s anxious for him to carry on the Donovan legacy, you see. And maybe partly because…well, he always liked me. I knew he didn’t love me the way I love him. Only I never exsh—expected I’d fail so s-spectac-ularly—” she enunciated with great care “—at the thing that really mattered.”

  Sex? Jase assumed. He had a hunch Rachel hadn’t known much about it, bar the theory, but surely Bryn could have—

  He didn’t want to know about that. Not between his sister and…anybody.

  Rachel’s eyes were bleak now but dry. “So I did the only thing I could.”

  Rage almost boiled over in Jase. He’d always known his sister was cuckoo over Bryn, but she was a fighter by nature. Seeing her fold this way was unnervingly out of character. He supposed pride would have stopped her from sticking around, no matter how much she loved her husband.

  “You’re right, I’ve had too much to drink. And talked too much.” She yawned, and muttered, “I should go home. I mean back to…”

  Carefully she put down her glass and made to get up, only to fall back against the cushions. “Soon,” she said, her eyelids falling closed.

  Jase got up, lifted her feet onto the sofa and adjusted the cushions behind her head. She murmured something unintelligible; then her breathing slowed and deepened. He fetched a light coverlet, tucked it around her, and went to bed himself. His parents would know she was safe with him.

  Samantha had been in her office for only minutes when she heard Jase’s voice, and moments later her door was flung open. She caught a glimpse of her secretary behind him, astonished and worried. The look on Jase’s face made her own heart lurch and she automatically stood up as he entered like a force of nature.

  “Tell your secretary you don’t want to be disturbed,” he said. “This is private and personal.”

  It took Samantha a moment to gather her wits and make a quick decision. She nodded at Judy across his shoulder, saying, “I’ll call if I need you.”

  Jase slammed the door, his face the personification of a thundercloud.

  “What is this about?” she demanded, getting in first. “I’m not in the habit of taking orders from other people about my staff. If you have business with me—”

  “You can just climb down off that high and mighty perch of yours, ice lady! I said this is personal.”

  He hadn’t called her “ice lady” or “ice princess” for a long time. Unexpectedly it hurt. Her facial muscles stiffened, and she knew she was living up to the epithet. “If you think my spending a few hours with you and your family gives you any right to barge in here and—”

  “And what gives you the right to go around kissing married men? And more, I suppose, than kissing!”

  Taking a moment to process his obvious misconception, she said, keeping her voice calm and steadying it with an effort, “If you mean Bryn, I haven’t kissed him since his wedding. And that was just a friendly peck.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” He came closer, splaying his hands on her desk. “You nearly had me fooled last weekend, but—”

  “I’m not lying!” She was glad the desk was between them. He looked about ready to do her serious bodily harm.

  But Samantha Magnussen had never given in to bullying. She leaned towards him, bringing her face within a handspan of his glittering eyes. Her voice now at freezing level, she said, “You can stop yelling at me, and get out of my office until you calm down.”

  “So make me!” he invited, not flinching away from her deliberately chilling gaze.

  Samantha made to pick up her desk phone, but faster than lightning he grabbed her wrist, simultaneously moving round the desk and pulling her to him.

  She had barely opened her mouth to call out in alarm before his fingers twisted into her hair, tipping her head back, and then his mouth was on hers.

  It was less a kiss than an assault, aimed only at shutting her up. She squirmed against the iron-hard clasp of his arm about her waist, lifted her hands to tug at his hair, and when he merely tightened his grip on hers, she tried to scratch at his face. He captured her hand and clipped it behind her back, then grabbed the other too and held both her wrists there, in one of his hands.

  She wrenched her head aside, freeing her mouth, but it would be too embarrassing to be found like this if she called for help. Samantha fought her own battles.

  She tried to say, “What do you—” think you’re doing?

  He cut her off, grasping her chin so she had to face him again. “If you want a man,” he rasped, his eyes aflame with temper, “choose one that’s available. Like me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THEN he was kissing her again—passionate and long and slow, sexy enough to make her toes curl, to flood her with melting heat.

  Not that she’d allow him to know that. With a supreme act of will she stayed stiff and unresponsive in his arms, counting to fifty, making herself open her eyes, trying to stare at a wall, the ceiling, anything but him.

  It only made her eyes water, and she had to close them in the end. His tongue darted into her mouth, withdrawing again when she tried to bite. The pressure on her lips eased as she felt him silently laugh. He closed his teeth gently about her lower lip for an instant, sending a bolt of liquid heat through her. Then he drew away and released her hands.

  Without even thinking she swung at him, delivering a ringing slap on his cheek that jerked his head to one side.

  “Wow!” he said without touching his face. “You pack a punch, ice lady.” But in a millisecond he was smiling at her grimly. “I always suspected there was fire underneath there somewhere. Bring it on, sweetheart, but it’d be more fun in bed.”

  Despite the so-called smile she knew he was still deep-down, frighteningly angry. So was she, although trembling inside with myriad conflicting emotions. “Get out of my office—my building!” she said, almost choking on her own anger, compounded by a crashing disappointment. “And if you set foot in it again I’ll have Security throw you out.”

  Jase shoved his hands into his pockets, and she had the distinct impression it was to keep himself from grabbing her again—to kiss or kill she didn’t know.

  “Suits me,” he said. “You’ll be thrilled to know you’ve ruined my sister’s life. Next time I see you it’ll be in hell, if I have anything to do with it.”

  He was out the door before she’d processed that, leaving her staring at the blank panel.

  The phone on her desk buzzed, then buzzed again. She picked it up and her secretary asked, “Um, is everything all right?”

  Everything was a total mess. And Samantha had no idea why. She took a moment to steady her voice, and into the silence Judy said, “I’ve never seen Mr Moore—look like that.”

  “Oh, you know these creative types,” Samantha said lightly. “I’m sure we can fix the problem. Give me ten minutes to finish what I’m doing here, and then can you bring in a printout of the figures for the Harvey project?” It was the first thing that caught her eye on the day’s to-do list sitting in front of her. It would keep Judy out of here while she rallied herself.

  She sat down in her chair, her legs still shaking, and
stared at the wall until her secretary tapped on the door, giving her a concerned look as she handed over the requested file.

  Snap out of it, she told herself, taking the file. “Thanks, Judy,” she said dismissively, and opened it up, pretending to study the first page until she heard the door close again. The print blurred before her eyes and she closed them tightly, counted slowly to a hundred, and with a brutal effort made herself focus on business.

  Jase knew he should have calmed down before leaving his sister back at his parents’ house and driving straight to Auckland and Samantha’s office, but after a sleepless night following Rachel’s revelations he’d been progressively more and more enraged.

  He’d heard Rachel in the shower and had juice, toast and coffee ready for her in the kitchen when she emerged in her rumpled clothing, and he made her sit down with him and eat, though she only nibbled at some toast spread with Vegemite, and drank three cups of coffee.

  “What you said last night, about Bryn and—” he started, but didn’t get a chance to finish.

  The mention of her husband’s name seemed to produce panic, her eyes wide and fixed on his. “Don’t tell anyone!” she said. “I know I rambled on about…well, things. All that wine. I probably didn’t make any sense. But you’re not to repeat any of it to anyone, you hear?”

  “If it’s true he—”

  “Of course it’s true, but no one else has to know. It’s too humiliating—and whatever I told you, it stays between you and me, understand?”

  Jase scowled. “Sounds to me like your husband needs a bit of a shake-up. I’ve a good mind—”

  “Don’t you dare!” She glared at him. “If you breathe a word to him I’ll never forgive you, I swear. If you even think about it!”

  She’d made him promise not to talk to Bryn or their parents, so worked up he reluctantly gave in.

  As to not thinking about it, that wasn’t so easy.

  Hours after the fiasco in Samantha’s office he was still thinking about it, sitting in his own Auckland office and supposedly working on a quote for a new client. Although Rachel’s ban hadn’t specifically included Samantha, she wouldn’t in any way approve his crashing in to accuse her, telling her she’d ruined his sister’s life. And certainly not of his kissing the woman who’d wrecked Rachel’s marriage.

  But that was between him and Samantha. Because…well, because she’d almost had him convinced he was wrong. That she was no marriage-wrecker, that there was a chance—

  His thought processes came to a crashing halt.

  A chance for them. For him and Samantha. Protecting his sister’s marriage? A smokescreen, a cover for what he really wanted—Samantha. In his bed, in his life.

  Someone tapped on the door and came in—his sales manager.

  “Yes?” Jase snarled, thrusting the troubling idea from his mind. “What?”

  The young man took a step back. “If this is a bad time—”

  “No.” Jase forced a smile. He’d always run his business on the basis of being readily available to his staff. “I need a distraction.” And wasn’t that the truth? “Sit down and tell me what’s up.”

  Four times that day Samantha picked up her phone to call Jase, and each time put it down again. She had a right to an explanation of his extraordinary behaviour that morning. To demand it from him.

  On the other hand, why should she be the one to make the first move? She’d done nothing to deserve that tirade. She debated calling Bryn, find out what was going on, but when she finally phoned his office she was told he wasn’t in that day. She could try Rivermeadows, she supposed, ask Lady Pearl if something was wrong, but then she’d have to explain why she was asking. And she had no intention of describing Jase’s visit.

  There must be a misunderstanding—maybe Bryn and Rachel had some domestic differences. None of her business, and none of Jase’s either. She tried to stir up righteous anger but it didn’t dispel the hollow despair that was much stronger. Probably Jase didn’t know what had gone wrong, just that something had, and simply jumped to a totally irrational conclusion that it was her fault because he’d never got over his first hasty judgement of her.

  It would all blow over and Jase would come crawling back to apologise. Except she didn’t think he’d ever crawl to anyone. He was too damned self-righteous and arrogant for that.

  She’d thought he’d put his distrust of her behind them, that they had established at least a reasonable working relationship, had even contemplated an affair. When he’d kissed her at his home she’d been on the verge of something she’d never experienced. Of losing herself in another person—a man.

  All day she felt as if a lead balloon was lodged in her chest, ever-expanding and threatening to burst out in a storm of tears. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself there were things to be done, people to see, important matters to attend to. A business to run. It had always saved her before in her down times. She had never allowed petty personal problems to distract her.

  And she wouldn’t now.

  For a whole week, despite her determination to put him out of her mind, Samantha was on tenterhooks, expecting to hear from a contrite and chastened Jase, but there was nothing. She considered confronting Rachel and demanding to know why Jase thought Samantha had ruined her life. But making anyone else aware of her very private pain—the thought made her shrivel inside.

  The days dragged, and the longer the silence continued the harder it became for her to pick up the phone and call him.

  It hurt that he’d misjudged her, hurt that he’d been so ready to blame her, but his absence hurt the most—more than she’d ever thought possible.

  There came a day when she could bear it no longer. She phoned his Auckland office and in a businesslike tone asked to speak to him, only to be told he was out of the country on a big overseas project, and not expected back for several weeks. Could a staff member help? Or she could get in touch by e-mail if she liked. He’d be collecting his mail regularly and—

  “No, thanks,” she said. “It can wait.”

  She put down the receiver, feeling oddly blank. So that was that. Chasing him down wherever he was in the world was too much for her self-respect to take.

  Something stung at the back of her eyes. She’d been working too hard. She needed…a walk on the beach came to mind, and she recalled the day Jase had taken her to the wild west coast and they’d strolled side by side barefoot on the sand, remembered his strong hand steadying her as they climbed the rocks—and the moment when she’d fallen practically into his arms.

  The day he’d taken her to his home, when it seemed he might even be coming to like her—she’d thought he wasn’t just lusting for her against his will. Thought that something might come of the attraction that had arced and pulsed between them from that first, thorny meeting. Something vital, tender and trusting.

  When they’d kissed that night it had seemed right, a step into unknown but welcoming territory with a man different from every other man she’d known. A man who was open and sometimes brutally frank, but was always honest. Not afraid to say what he thought, show what he felt. Her opposite in fact, and maybe that was why she’d fallen in—

  She sat stunned. She’d fallen in love with Jase Moore. Against all odds, all reason, he’d stormed her heart and made off with it. She wanted him as she’d never in her life wanted anything. Not her father’s respect, not her mother’s approval. She wanted Jase so badly her body shook and her heart hammered, longing flooding her entire body and mind.

  And he didn’t want her. Not the way she’d hoped—had thought he might one day. The passion in his kiss might have expressed the craving of his body, but the angry contempt in it had dashed any hope of tenderness—of love.

  At the next board meeting, she was shocked at Bryn’s appearance—the new prominence of his strong cheekbones, his hollowed eyes. There was no chance to talk with him alone, and he left as soon as the meeting finished.

  She made an excuse to see him the following da
y, citing a minor problem that had been discussed without resolution at the meeting, and suggested they meet for lunch at a restaurant they’d used often in the past, before his marriage. Since then she’d been wary of such tête à têtes.

  He hesitated before agreeing, and when he entered the place where she was waiting for him, he still had that grim and haunted look.

  Business was soon dispensed with and, trying to sound casual, she asked, “How is Rachel?”

  “Fine,” he answered shortly, digging his fork into a bowl of pasta, and repeating the action twice before he looked up, shocking her again with the bleakness of his gaze.

  He dropped the fork, ran a hand over his dark hair and muttered, “Oh, what the hell. The truth is I have no idea. Happy, I suppose.” He sat tense and frowning. “It’ll be common knowledge soon. She’s left me, Sam.”

  Samantha pushed aside her smoked kingfish. “Permanently?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “She was very clear about that. Yes.” He was trying to sound blasé, but she knew him well enough to recognise it for an act. The man was suffering.

  “I’m so sorry, Bryn.” And she was indignant on his behalf. “Are you sure there’s no chance of—”

  “She’s in love with someone else,” he said baldly. His fingers curled about the stem of his wineglass but he just twirled it broodingly instead of lifting it to drink.

  Was the woman mad? Even though Samantha no longer yearned after Bryn, she still thought Rachel was one of the luckiest women in the world. She sat in speechless, stunned sympathy.

  The flatness of his tone heart-rending, he said, “She said she’s found her true love. I should be glad for her but—”