Captivated by the Millionaire

by Nina Singh

  They’re not looking for love...

  Until love finds them!

  On paper it just shouldn’t work. Jess is a bohemian artist who loves her life in the close-knit Martha’s Vineyard community while Jordan is a millionaire bachelor, CEO and a “bright lights, big city” guy. There’s no denying the attraction between them, but neither are in the right place for a relationship. However, fate and an adorable little girl entrusted to their care have other ideas...

  Jess suddenly found herself in a tight dark space completely alone with the most enigmatic man she’d ever encountered.

  In an instant, everything else around them faded into the background. Only the two of them seemed to exist.

  Jordan was so close, she was certain he could hear the increased pounding of her heart. So close that it would be so easy to lean toward him with a clear invitation. So easy to ask him to kiss her.

  Heat and excitement curled deep in her belly at the thought. What might it feel like to have his lips on hers? She could smell the subtle scent of his aftershave. That same smoky, woodsy scent she was now beginning to associate with the man.

  Was he wondering about kissing her, too?

  They were from two completely different worlds. She had no business being attracted to him. And she certainly had no business acting on it anyway...

  Dear Reader,

  What do you think of when you hear the word home? The concept often seems to mean different things to different people. Is it a location? Or perhaps it might refer to being surrounded by those you love and who love you in return. Maybe it’s simply a sense of familiarity and comfort, regardless of one’s surroundings.

  In Captivated by the Millionaire, both the hero and heroine are struggling to find their own definition of home. Jordan is a successful businessman who’s had to upend his whole life in order to make a new home for the sake of a child. Jess was repeatedly uprooted as a little girl and has only recently found a place where she feels a sense of belonging. Both feel as if there’s something still missing in their lives. After they meet, neither seems to be able to see what’s clearly right in front of them.

  Though it takes them some time and much introspective discovery, Jess and Jordan ultimately come to realize that they’ve found home with each other. I hope you enjoy their journey.

  Nina

  Captivated by the Millionaire

  Nina Singh

  Nina Singh lives just outside of Boston, Massachusetts, with her husband, children and a very rambunctious Yorkie. After several years in the corporate world, she finally followed the advice of family and friends to “give the writing a go, already.” She’s oh-so-happy she did. When not at her keyboard, she likes to spend time on the tennis court or golf course. Or immersed in a good read.

  Books by Nina Singh

  Harlequin Romance

  The Men Who Make Christmas

  Snowed in with the Reluctant Tycoon

  9 to 5

  Miss Prim and the Maverick Millionaire

  The Marriage of Inconvenience

  Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire

  Tempted by Her Island Millionaire

  Christmas with Her Secret Prince

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  To the Harlequin editors I’ve had the good fortune to work with—Flo Nicoll, Vic Britton and Laurie Johnson. For all your guidance, encouragement and just overall fabulousness, I feel truly blessed as an author.

  Praise for

  Nina Singh

  “Singh’s latest has a love story that will make readers swoon, ‘ooh,’ and ‘ahh’... Snowed in with the Reluctant Tycoon is a great read any time of year.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM SECOND CHANCE WITH HER BILLIONAIRE BY THERESE BEHARRIE

  PROLOGUE

  HE’D ALWAYS PRIDED himself on being prepared. Overly prepared, in fact. But damned if he’d seen any of this coming.

  Jordan Paydan stood in front of the glass wall of his Upper East Side Manhattan penthouse and stared at the paperwork that had just been delivered to him via special messenger. No detail had been left up to chance. Every “i” had been dotted; every “t” had been crossed. A slew of family practice attorneys had made sure to look over each piece of paper.

  And now Jordan’s life would never be the same.

  His stepmother hadn’t put up any kind of a fight; she’d simply waited for the funds to be transferred into her account. He grunted a laugh at the term. Stepmother. The woman was barely older than his own thirty-one years. She certainly didn’t appear to want to act like a responsible adult. He didn’t know her well at all, but that much about her was as clear as the sky on this bright New York afternoon. Considering the events of the past few months and based on the paperwork he currently held in his hands, his stepmother had no qualms about moving on after his father’s death.

  Jordan uttered a small curse and threw the envelope and documents onto the mahogany desk behind him next to the couch.

  Nothing to do now but to try and plan for the colossal changes that were about to overtake his very existence. None of which were his own doing in any way. He just had to figure out where exactly to start.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Six months later

  JESSALYN RAFFI WAS completely engrossed in the mural she was painting on the wall. It was good. Really good, if she did say so herself. She’d spent most of the day painstakingly drawing and creating a detailed image of a majestic, ancient castle sitting atop a grand mountain. Fat, fluffy clouds floated above its towers. She’d even thrown in a few knights on steeds along its base.

  Jess had no doubt the child about to occupy this room as a new resident of this house was going to love it. What child wouldn’t? To be able to walk into your bedroom and feel like you could be transported through time and space into an entirely different reality would seem magical to any youngster. She was certain of it.

  As engrossed as she was, she didn’t even hear the front door open and close downstairs; nor did she hear the steady sound of footsteps as someone came up the stairs and approached the open door. It took her a moment to realize that someone now stood right outside in the hallway. So it was no wonder she shrieked as loud as she did when she finally understood she was no longer alone. A strange man stood staring at her. Out of sheer reflex, she threw the wet paintbrush she held directly at his chest like some sort of futile weapon, her aim finding its target straight and center.

  “What the hell?” a deep masculine voice responded with outrage.

  She realized her mistake almost immediately. But it was too late. An angry splotch of red paint spread and splattered across the newcomer’s shirt.

  His clearly expensive, well-tailored silk shirt.

  He was no intruder. In fact, if she had to hedge a bet, Jess would guess he was the new homeowner. And she’d attacked him with a messy wet paintbrush.

  She rushed over immediately, grabbing her damp rag off the floor along the way. “Oh, my God. I’m
so sorry. It’s just that you startled me.” But her attempts to try and wipe the paint off his chest only served to make matters worse. The splotchy stain simply spread across the fabric of his shirt into one big blob of bright red. The more she tried to mop it up, the messier things got.

  “Please stop,” he commanded through gritted teeth, his hands clenched at his sides. No doubt he was willing himself to keep from forcefully grabbing her hands and pushing her away. To his credit, he didn’t.

  Jess wanted to sink into the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  He blinked at her, anger clouding his eyes. “This is my house. I should be the one asking you that question.”

  Through her mortification, Jess finally allowed herself to look at the man’s face. Lordy, he was so utterly striking. Sandy-blond hair just dark enough that he couldn’t be described as fair. Just enough facial hair that added a rugged masculinity to his face. Piercing grayish-green eyes. He stood about a head taller than she did. Even in his annoyed state, it was impossible not to notice just how handsome he was.

  “But I had no idea you were due to arrive,” she stammered through her embarrassment. “Marie told me you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow morning. She owns the contracting company you hired. Just so happens she’s a friend of mine. Throws me odd jobs here and there.” Now she was just blabbering. Get a grip. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I was just finishing up.” She pointed to the massive painting on the wall behind her.

  He didn’t even glance at it. “None of that explains why you’re here at this hour. Nor why my front door was unlocked.”

  She shrugged, tried to smile. It didn’t quite manifest. “I guess I lost track of time. Like I said, I was working on the mural.”

  A momentary pause of silence ensued in which he simply stood and studied her. Jess turned away when she couldn’t stand the scrutiny any longer. “It’s a castle,” she unnecessarily informed him.

  “Why?”

  She turned back to face him as the single word hung in the air. “Why? Why what?”

  He let out a long, clearly frustrated breath. “Why are you painting a mural in the first place? I asked my assistant to hire contractors simply to apply fresh paint through the house. They were given very specific instructions regarding color scheme. Instructions that I was told were relayed to the painters.”

  Jess cleared her throat, trying not to get flustered. She had to keep her cool here. “Yes, I know. Eggshell white. Throughout the whole house.” How did he not see how utterly bland and boring that was? Eggshell white could hardly be considered a color scheme for heaven’s sake. She kept that thought to herself.

  He gave one sharp nod. “Correct. Very simple. At no point was there any request for a medieval castle complete with towers and banners to be drawn on the wall.”

  A lump had formed in her throat. “I realize that. But I was told this was to be the child’s room and I thought any little boy or girl would appreciate—”

  He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Regardless of what you thought, you took it upon yourself to do something that resulted in a delay to my schedule.”

  She tried not to cringe. He sort of had a point about that. “I apologize. But it will only take me a few more minutes to finish up.”

  He squinted at her, eyebrows drawn over tight, dark, piercing eyes. “The little girl who is to occupy this room is due to arrive in just a few minutes with her little pink pony air mattress ready to inflate. Thanks to you, she won’t be able to spend the first night in her new home in her new room.”

  Okay. Another good point. But it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of rooms in the house. The place was a downright mansion for heaven’s sake. Another point she wasn’t going to bring up. “Again, I apologize,” she simply repeated. “I’ll just finish up really quickly.”

  But he wasn’t listening. In fact, he had stepped aside and was motioning toward the stairs. “Please just leave.”

  Jess swallowed past the lump that had now grown to brick size. Damn it. She wasn’t going to tear up and cry. Not in front of this cranky, rude stranger. She’d only been trying to do something nice for a small child. Without a word, she swiftly began to gather her things.

  Like the saying went, no good deed and all that.

  * * *

  Jordan watched the young lady descend the stairs and make a beeline to the door. He thought for sure she’d slam it behind her but surprisingly, she didn’t. Just shut it slowly with a soft click of the handle. But there was no doubt she was in a hurry to get out of the house. Well, who could blame her? After the way he’d behaved just now, it was no wonder she wanted out. He’d almost called her back to apologize as she rushed down the stairs. Perhaps he should have. But it had been such a long day and all he’d wanted to do was check out the new house then take a long shower. Only to find a strange woman hovering about. He rubbed a hand down his face and grabbed his hastily packed overnight bag from the hallway where he’d thrown it. He’d just driven four straight hours, some of it through pouring rain, on the speakerphone for most of the time, dealing with a major proposal with an important investor. He could hardly be blamed for being a little short after finding an unexpected woman in his home upon arrival. Not to mention she’d ruined one of his good shirts. No, he couldn’t really be faulted for the way he’d reacted.

  Could he?

  Jordan gave a shake of his head. What was done was done. He couldn’t take it back now. There was nothing for it. What was he supposed to do? Find out exactly who she was from the contracting company then try to contact her to apologize? He didn’t have that kind of spare time. And trying to catch up to her now was just downright silly. So why was he entertaining the notion of doing just that? He had to shake off the useless thoughts.

  And anyway, Elise was due to arrive with little Sonya in a few minutes and he’d be too busy getting everyone set up for the night in the new place. He barely had time for a shower at this point.

  Despite the press of time, Jordan turned to the painted wall of the mural she’d been working on. Now that he was truly looking at it, he had to admit what a work of art it was. Walking over, he studied the painting further, for that was what it truly was—an artistic painting. Full of detail and color, down to the tiny knights on horseback climbing the side of the mountain. She’d done all this freehand. The level of detail was breathtaking. And he’d chastised her for it.

  Perhaps an attempt to find her and apologize wasn’t such a far-fetched idea after all.

  Despite the overwhelming paint smell, he’d gotten a small whiff of her subtle lilac scent when she’d brushed by him as she left the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d noticed a woman’s scent. He recalled the uncomfortable silence and tension in the air as she’d gathered her things, biting her bottom lip no doubt to try and hide the trembling. That thought had his shame growing.

  There was no denying he’d behaved like a complete bastard. No excuse would change that fact. Yet more proof that he didn’t have the temperament or the patience to be the sole guardian of a little girl. But he’d had no choice, had he?

  His father’s words echoed through his mind. You have to take her, Jordan. Her mother doesn’t want her. I know how much I’m asking of you.

  Well, Martha’s Vineyard was a small island, the major reason they were moving here. The sort of place where everyone frequented the same establishments. Chances were probably quite high that he’d run into the artist again at some point. When he did, he’d be sure to make a genuine and heartfelt apology.

  No use beating himself up about it right now.

  * * *

  By the time he dried off, Jordan had convinced himself even further that he’d be able to make amends. He was bound to run into the young lady one way or another. Not only would he apologize, he would also make sure to compliment her o
n her clear artistic talent. Maybe he’d even get a chance to explain that he dealt with curt, cutthroat business people every day in his professional life. Sometimes, that curtness spilled over into his own behavior, particularly on days like the one today had been.

  The notion of being able to explain himself served to bolster his mood. And it absolutely had nothing to do with the prospect of running into the artistic painter at some point in the future.

  He heard the front door open downstairs followed by Elise’s feminine voice announcing their arrival. After throwing on a pair of sweats and soft cotton T-shirt, he made his way downstairs.

  “You found the place okay, then?” he asked the nanny, who was in the process of helping Sonya out of her bright pink hoodie.

  “Yep.”

  “Hey, sport,” he said as he tousled the little girl’s hair. She responded with a simple wave and a small, shy smile. Not that he’d expected it, but a part of him still reeled at the lack of a verbal response. Since slowly and gradually losing her ability to hear, the child had become less and less willing to speak. It was tearing him up inside, despite what all the experts said about such a response being common and expected.

  He leaned down to her height and signed that he was happy to see her. That earned him a toothless grin. They were both just recently starting to get the hang of using sign language. Though barely six, Sonya was a quick and motivated learner. In fact, she was picking up on the skill faster than he was.

  “She looks tired.” He stood, addressing Elise.

  “And hungry. It was a long ride. Though Sonya did enjoy the ferry from the Cape.”

  “I saw a pizza place not too far away on my ride over. Hope they deliver.”

  “If they don’t, I call ‘not it’ on driving to pick it up. I’ve had enough traveling.”

  “Fine,” he relented. “Then after that we’ll get her settled and into bed,” he said out loud but made a cupped hand sleeping motion to Sonya. She nodded in response.

 
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