Her Tycoon Lover

by Sandra Field

  As she stared at it stupidly, she realised two things. It was the spare pillow that normally lived in the top of the wardrobe, and it bore the imprint of a head.

  Feeling as though she had been kicked in the solar plexus, she sank down on the nearest chair. It couldn’t be what it looked like, she thought, even as she understood that it could, and undoubtedly was.

  She began to shake like a leaf.

  No, surely he wouldn’t have done such a thing?

  Or would he?

  What did she know of the man? Very little except that he lived in the States, worked for Philip Lorne, and was a friend of Jason’s.

  Of his morals she knew less than nothing.

  But the mere fact that he’d taken advantage of her drunken state and then cleared out spoke volumes.

  As the full horror of the situation sank in, she whispered, ‘Oh, dear God.’

  It was savage retribution for being stupid enough to get drunk, and trust a perfect stranger.

  Several minutes passed before she was able to get up and, stomach churning, knees like jelly, make her way to the bathroom.

  Drops of water were still clinging to the patterned glass of the shower-stall, while the fresh scent of some masculine shower gel hung on the air. A damp towel had been draped over the laundry basket, and a disposable toothbrush discarded in the bin.

  He’d obviously made himself thoroughly at home before leaving, she thought bleakly.

  Disliking the idea of standing where he had stood, but desperate to feel clean again, she forced herself to ignore the sense of shock and outrage, and step into the shower.

  Watching water and bubbles of peach-blossom shampoo cascade down her slender body, she noted—in an oddly detached way, as though this creamy flesh wasn’t really hers—that it bore not the slightest sign of marks or bruises.

  But presumably she had been either too far gone to struggle, or already unconscious when he stripped off her clothes.

  Despite the steamy heat she went cold, every nerve in her body screaming a protest. It took a moment or two to gather herself enough to carry on.

  When she had dried her hair she pulled on a towelling robe and, sinking onto a stool to clean her teeth, caught sight of herself in the mirror.

  Staring abstractedly at the white-faced woman who stared mutely back at her, she wondered, what was she to do?

  But there was nothing she could do.

  So, rather than sit here brooding, she decided, she would go out and make a fresh effort to find another job. At least that would be a positive step. It should help to take her mind off what had happened.

  Feeling a fraction more cheerful, she brushed her hair and coiled it into a neat chignon, before making up with care.

  Then, her legs still feeling shaky, she forced herself to go back to the bedroom.

  Averting her eyes from the bed, she found a silky top in mint-green and a stone-coloured trouser suit, and, suddenly desperate to get out of the flat, dressed with all speed.

  Common sense told her that she ought to have some breakfast before she went, but the thought of food made her stomach churn even more.

  Though she was in need of a drink.

  Going through to the kitchen, she put on the kettle and with unsteady hands made a pot of coffee and poured herself a mug of the fragrant brew.

  She had just added milk and a spoonful of sugar and sat down at the table to drink it, when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing.

  A moment later the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Gray Gallagher filled the kitchen doorway.

  The formal garb of yesterday, with its matching shirt and tie was gone. Wearing smart casuals and a short car coat unbuttoned and swinging loose, he looked completely at his ease.

  ‘Mmm…’ He sniffed appreciatively. ‘Thought I could smell coffee.’

  While she sat speechless, he strolled over and helped himself to a mugful, as though he lived here and had every right.

  ‘I wondered if you’d be up. You were still asleep when I left.’

  As he spoke he studied her, surprised afresh by her beauty. A beauty he had only fully appreciated that morning when he had stood looking down at her sleeping face.

  Yesterday he had seen her as attractive, with a lovely, passionate mouth and fascinating amber eyes. Now he noticed the shape of her face, her delicate ears, her pure bone structure.

  Dropping into a chair opposite, he began to drink his coffee, his eyes still appraising her.

  Her heart racing suffocatingly fast, Rebecca found her voice and demanded, ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘I borrowed your key in case you were still asleep when I got back.’

  ‘I didn’t expect you back.’

  He lifted a dark brow. ‘Why not?’

  ‘After what happened…’ Her words tailed off.

  With a wry smile, he observed, ‘I’m rather surprised you remember what happened.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s quite obvious.’

  Picking up her agitation, he asked mildly, ‘What’s quite obvious?’

  ‘You must have undressed me!’

  When he failed to deny it, she burst out angrily, ‘You took advantage of me.’

  His good-looking face the picture of innocence, he enquired, ‘In what way?’

  ‘You know perfectly well!’

  ‘If you mean we slept together…’

  ‘Are you trying to pretend we didn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re a swine.’ Her voice shook.

  Smoothly, he enquired, ‘What makes you think I’m solely to blame?’

  Pushing away the awful thought that she might have invited it, she said raggedly, ‘If you’d had a shred of decency, you’d have gone. Left me alone.’

  ‘I was about to, but you pleaded with me to stay.’

  ‘No! I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Your exact words were, “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be on my own tonight.’” For good measure, he added, ‘You took hold of my hand and clung to me.’

  Somewhere deep down it struck a chord, and, though she wanted to dismiss it all as lies, she couldn’t doubt that he was telling the truth.

  Unable to repudiate it, she retorted, ‘You must have realised that I was still too drunk to know what I was doing or saying.’

  ‘Drunk or sober, it was clear that you were in need of some…company.’

  ‘If you knew what kind of woman I am,’ she cried bitterly, ‘you’d know perfectly well that I don’t go in for that kind of company, or one-night stands.’

  ‘As I don’t know what kind of woman you are, I’m afraid I wasn’t able to judge.’

  ‘So you went ahead and slept with me!’

  ‘Are you using the words “slept with” as a euphemism for “had sex with”?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Then the answer’s no, I didn’t.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ she echoed blankly.

  ‘If you knew what kind of man I are, you’d know perfectly well that I don’t go in for one-night stands either.’

  Coldly, he went on, ‘Nor do I enjoy “sleeping with” unconscious women. And believe me, a second or two after asking me to stay you were out for the count.’

  With the beginnings of relief, but still needing some additional reassurance, she said, ‘So you didn’t sleep with me?’

  ‘I could just say no again, but in the interests of accuracy it’s a fact that I slept beside you in the same bed. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.’

  Remembering her naked state, she said, ‘If that really is all, I don’t understand why you went to the trouble of undressing me.’

  Straight-faced, he said, ‘It was no trouble.’

  Watching her blush, he continued, ‘But before you start accusing me of getting my kicks that way, it had been a long day for me too, and I was more than ready for some sleep versus hanky-panky.’

  Flustered, she pointed out, ‘I could have slept in
my clothes.’

  ‘After I’d unfastened your pearls I suggested that, but you were desperate to get rid of all your wedding finery, so I helped you.’

  Once again some faint recollection told her he spoke the truth.

  ‘Apart from that, I never laid so much as a finger on you. Happy now?’

  Crossly, she accused, ‘At first you deliberately led me to believe the worst.’

  When he merely looked at her, she demanded, ‘Why?’

  ‘It seemed to be what you wanted to believe.’

  ‘I didn’t want to believe anything of the kind,’ she cried indignantly. ‘I was absolutely horrified.’

  Pulling a face, he complained, ‘You said that in such a heartfelt way, I could quite easily end up with a complex. Or at the very least a severely dented ego…’

  Against all expectations, she found herself laughing. Not only did it ease the tension, but it made her realise that she had barely smiled, let alone laughed, in many weeks.

  ‘More coffee?’ he queried, rising to his feet.

  She nodded.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Milk and one sugar, please.’

  It was the first time she had been calm enough to look at him objectively, and while he poured their coffee she studied him, covertly weighing him up.

  He was even more attractive than she had realised, with a lean, strong-boned face and handsome eyes beneath dark, level brows.

  His teeth were white and even, and his long, flexible mouth, with its austere upper lip and sensuous lower, aesthetically pleasing.

  But apart from Gray Gallagher’s looks and his physique there was something about him, something charismatic—a maturity, a quiet confidence—that gave him an air of authority and power. An air that, she felt sure, would turn most women on.

  He glanced up suddenly, and, annoyed that she had been caught staring at him, she looked hastily away, a tinge of betraying pink rising in her cheeks.

  When he just waited, leaving the ball in her court, she went back to one point that was still niggling. ‘I don’t understand why you stayed here last night.’

  He passed her the replenished mug and sat down again, crossing his legs the way men did, one ankle resting casually on the opposite knee. ‘You mean, if it wasn’t simply to have my wicked way with you?’

  Her colour deepening, she said crisply, ‘As you weren’t an overnight guest at Elmslee Manor, I presume you had a hotel booked.’

  ‘I didn’t, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t in need of a free night’s lodging.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking any such thing…’ she began, then stopped, realising by the gleam in his eye that he was angling for a rise.

  ‘I have my own place.’

  Startled, she said, ‘Well, if you have your own place I really can’t imagine why you stayed here. It’s hardly the height of luxury.’

  ‘You seemed to want me to stay and, as I felt guilty about the state you were in, I thought it best to keep an eye on you.’

  Seeing how pale she still was beneath the make-up, he queried, ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

  ‘A bit rough, but probably better than I deserve.’

  Noting, with an odd little flutter, that his handsome, heavily lashed eyes, which she had expected to be grey or light blue, were green flecked with gold, she took a deep breath and went on, ‘I owe you an abject apology.’

  He half shook his head, but she ploughed on determinedly, ‘Firstly, for misjudging you, and secondly, for yesterday. You must have come over from the States especially for the wedding, and because of me you even missed the reception.’

  ‘That was my choice,’ he pointed out.

  ‘But it means your journey has been a complete waste of time.’

  A twinkle in his eye, he drawled, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’

  She swallowed. ‘Unless, of course, you have business in London?’

  ‘Not at this precise moment.’ An edge to his voice, he added, ‘Though I will have in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘So when do you go back to the States?’

  ‘This morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ In spite of having earlier wished him gone, she felt a strange sense of disappointment. Doing her best to hide it, she said, ‘Well, I hope you have a good flight back to New York.’

  ‘I’m not going back to New York. At least, not at the moment.’

  ‘I thought you lived there.’

  ‘Yes, I do. But first I have a one-night stop-over in Boston for an urgent business meeting, then a trip to California.’

  ‘Business or pleasure?’

  ‘A bit of each. Finance International have just acquired a rundown vineyard in the Napa Valley, so I’m going over there to take a look at it and try to work out the potential.

  ‘Mainly, however, I’m looking forward to a break. I haven’t had a holiday since I’ve been in the States, so I’m hoping to take it easy and enjoy the sun for a couple of weeks before flying back to London.’

  Then with no change of tone, so that at first she scarcely took in what he was saying, ‘Why not come with me?’

  ‘Come with you?’ she echoed after a moment. ‘You mean to California?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I—I just couldn’t,’ she stammered.

  ‘Have you ever been to California?’

  ‘No.’ The furthest she’d ever managed to get was to the Italian Alps on a cheap skiing break with some college friends.

  ‘But you like travelling. You told me you’d booked a Caribbean holiday.’

  ‘Yes, but I—’

  ‘They both start with the letter C,’ he pointed out quizzically, ‘and if you go you might find you like California better.’

  It had been one of her childhood dreams to someday see the west coast of America…

  Snapping off the thought, she told herself not to be a fool. The mere idea of going to California with Gray Gallagher, a man she had thought of as rude and abrasive, was ridiculous.

  But his attitude had changed, she realised. He no longer seemed so scathing, so deliberately cruel. In fact he’d been positively kind.

  Even so…

  She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t possibly go.’

  ‘What is there to keep you in London? You’ve given up your job, so there’s nothing to fill your days. Unless you want to sit and think of Lisa and Jason enjoying their honeymoon?’

  Seeing the look on her face, he regretted his cruelty. It was like slapping a child.

  His tone kinder, he observed, ‘Now the marriage is a fait accompli, it’s time you cut free, left the past behind you. Though this trip is no big deal, a complete change of scenery might be just what you need to take your mind off things.’

  He sounded so down-to-earth that, from being unthinkable, it began to seem feasible.

  When, trying to cope with the rush of excitement that threatened to overrule common sense, she said nothing, he urged, ‘Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t come.’

  Pulling herself together, she asked, ‘You mean apart from the obvious one?’

  He grinned appreciatively. ‘The obvious one being that you’re a “nice girl”, and nice girls don’t go away on holiday with strange men?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘A somewhat dated outlook, yet in my book a commendable one. But apart from that?’

  As she had absolutely no intention of going, it was absurd to have to give a reason. All the same she found herself doing it.

  ‘For one thing I couldn’t afford the air fare.’

  ‘You wouldn’t need to—I’m using the company jet.’

  ‘And for another I must stay in London and keep looking for a job.’ Unguardedly, she added, ‘If I don’t get one before too long I’ll be in a mess.’

  ‘You mean financially?’

  Reluctantly, she answered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I have plenty of contacts both here and in the States, so
don’t worry about getting a job. I’ll see you’re fixed up as soon as we get back.

  ‘And as far as this holiday is concerned you won’t need to pay a penny.’

  Seeing her expression, he said wryly, ‘There are no strings attached, I assure you. I’m not asking you to share my bed.’ A gleam of laughter in his green eyes, he added, ‘Unless, of course, you want to—’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘There you go,’ he complained, ‘denting my ego again. But seriously, there’s a house that goes with the vineyard, so you can have your own room and simply come as my guest. At the end of the fortnight I’ll bring you back to London.’

  Letting go of one obstacle, she cited another. ‘It might be more than your job’s worth.’

  ‘No one questions what I do. I have a completely free hand.’

  And he must be fairly high up the ladder to have been given the use of the company jet. Still, she protested, ‘But if Philip Lome found out…’

  ‘So long as I’m getting the work done, he wouldn’t concern himself. And I think at the very least Finance International owe you a holiday.

  ‘Because of Jason you’ve lost out quite badly, and I know Lorne well enough to be sure that if he heard what had happened he wouldn’t be at all pleased with his nephew.’

  ‘You won’t tell him?’ she asked quickly.

  ‘It all depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On whether or not you decide to take up my offer.’

  ‘That’s blackmail.’

  ‘Call it friendly persuasion.’

  ‘If there are no strings attached, why do you want me to come?’

  ‘Apart from the reasons I’ve already stated, when I’m not working I like to have a companion, someone to share things with.’

  Frowning, she wondered why a man with his kind of looks and charisma would need to use blackmail to get himself a companion.

  ‘If you wanted companionship, why didn’t you bring a girlfriend?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t happen to have one at the moment. So it occurred to me that, as we’re in the same boat, a spot of joint companionship wouldn’t come amiss.’

  Though she had her doubts about Gray Gallagher being a comfortable companion, perhaps she should take this unexpected opportunity. A trip to California might be just what she needed to enable her to kick-start her life again.