The Irresistible Tycoon (7 page)

And he still thought like that, damn it. Nothing had changed.
Nothing.

‘There's no need for hysterics.' His voice was as cold as ice and his arctic eyes drilled into her like unrelenting steel. ‘I was simply putting you on your guard, that's all. You
have worked for me for three months and nothing of this nature has cropped up before.'

He rose as he finished speaking, walking across to the door and opening it as he said, ‘Perhaps you would make sure those letters are in the post tonight.'

He was dismissing her. Like a headmaster with an errant child! Kim rose to her feet, her clenched fists crumpling the papers in her grasp and forcing her to relax her fingers slightly.

She had intended to sail past him with haughty indifference, her head held high, but the anger that still had her in its grip made her careless. Whether it was the thin heel of her court shoes catching in the carpet or the fact that her legs were shaking so badly, she didn't know, but to her horror she found herself in danger of sprawling at his feet as she felt herself begin to fall just as she reached the doorway.

The letters flew out of her fingers in a whirling arc as she grappled vainly at thin air in an effort to right herself, and then strong arms caught her and brought her thudding against a muscled male chest.

Kim was so dazed and disorientated that she made no sort of move to free herself, and Lucas seemed to have frozen. And then he moved her an inch or so away in order to look down into her face. ‘Have you hurt yourself?' His voice was deep and edged with huskiness.

Hurt herself? She didn't know what she had done, held in his arms like this. She could have a broken leg and it wouldn't register.

She knew she had to say something—she couldn't continue staring up into his dark face—but all the half-remembered, forbidden dreams that had haunted her sleep for the last months had come together and it was surreal.

Her hands had landed against the broad wall of his chest and she could feel the thud, thud of his heart beneath her
fingertips, the smooth blue silk of his shirt not quite disguising the roughness of body hair beneath it.

Her own heart was pounding, racing the blood through her veins and echoing its thunder in her throat so that it stifled any words she needed to speak to finish this thing quickly and without further embarrassment. She was aware of his harnessed strength, of the power in the bunched muscles of his arms and the magnificent ribcage beneath her palms, but instead of driving her to jerk away—as it should have done—it increased the strange inability to move.

‘Kim?' It was a soft murmur, almost a whisper, and then he bent his dark head and nuzzled the golden silk of her hair as he moved her into him again, his voice restrained as he said, ‘It's all right; you're okay.'

He had known she was expecting him to kiss her, wanting him to kiss her.
And he hadn't.

It was like a deluge of cold water and she pulled free in the next moment, utterly mortified as she bent and quickly gathered up the scattered papers, snapping—when Lucas made a move to help—‘I can manage perfectly well, thank you.'

He froze immediately, his voice quiet but with a distinct edge to it when he said, ‘Of course you can.'

She had never, not even when Graham had been at his worst, felt such burning humiliation as she was feeling now. The papers retrieved, Kim rose jerkily to her feet, her face flushed and her eyes brilliant with the shame that was making her rigid.

‘I'll see that these go off tonight,' she muttered painfully, without looking at Lucas.

He had moved slightly away from the door and now she walked through it quickly, hearing it close behind her with a further stiffening of her already taut limbs.

All she wanted to do was to escape.

Kim stuffed the letters into their envelopes with a fever
ish haste that took no account of precise folding or anything else. Then, rather than following normal procedure and ringing through to Accounts to inform the junior there that Mr Kane's post was ready for collection, she took it down herself, lingering for a few moments to talk to the financial director's secretary before she returned to the top floor, although afterwards she had no recollection of what they had talked about.

Lucas was speaking on his private line when she walked into her office and she fairly flew round, collecting her coat and turning off the word processor, checking everything was in order, and then scurrying out to the lift as though the devil himself was at her heels.

She had never gone without saying goodnight before—neither had she left before five o'clock, and it was still only five to—but none of that mattered. If she had to face Lucas tonight, look into those mocking silver eyes and see the knowledge of her own weakness in his face, she would crumple. She knew it.

And it wasn't until she was safely in the blue BMW driving away from Kane Electrical that she allowed the first hot tears to fall.

A
FTER
a riotous snowman-building exercise with Melody, followed by hot soup and crumpets smothered with butter and jam, Kim felt a little better.

Okay, so she had made the mother and father of a fool of herself, she admitted silently as she stood washing up the tea things, having sent Melody to tidy her room before her nightly bath. She had stood there like someone who had lost their wits staring up into his face, but perhaps he hadn't known what she was thinking?
She
hadn't realised what she was thinking until he
hadn't
kissed her.

She gave a small smothered sigh and gazed unseeingly over the back garden, the large snowman she and Melody had made gazing back at her unblinkingly from his vantage point in the middle of the lawn.

The crazy thing was she didn't want Lucas to kiss her, not in the cold light of day. It was the last thing she wanted, she told herself firmly. Even if Lucas Kane hadn't been her boss, she wouldn't have contemplated getting involved with him in a million years, or any man for that matter. But especially Lucas Kane.

He was too dominant a man, too strong physically and mentally and much too ruthless and cold and cynical. And too charismatic, too darkly sensual and magnetic, the little voice in her head jeered bluntly, prompted by her conscience and innate honesty.

‘Oh, whatever!' She swished her hands irritably in the hot soapy water, angry with herself and Lucas Kane and the whole world. She didn't recognise herself any more; that was most of the problem. Or perhaps didn't trust her
self was a better definition? He had made no move towards her—in fact, he had shown only too clearly that afternoon that she held as much attraction for him as a piece of wet lettuce—so she had to accept the problem was all hers. And it wasn't a problem, it really wasn't—not unless she made it one.

That reasoning helped, a little.

For some reason Lucas Kane affected her like no other man she had known. She had thought she was sexually attracted to Graham, but now she knew she hadn't even understood the first thing about such an emotion.

So… Her hands became still again and her eyes dark and unfocused. She either faced facts, got a hold on her ridiculous hormones and made sure an incident like this afternoon never happened again, or she left. It was as simple as that at root level. And if she left it was goodbye wonderful salary, goodbye car and very probably goodbye this house, because she wasn't at all sure she would ever get another job like her present one. Could she really justify robbing Melody of what promised to be a glowing future, simply because she found her boss the most sexy thing since Adam first walked the earth? No, she couldn't.

Her hands automatically found a teaplate and washed it.

She had to go into work tomorrow as though nothing had happened. She had worked for him for three months and she could continue to do so; it was mind over matter. And she wouldn't think about how she had told him one minute that she didn't like physical contact, and the next had been all over him. She groaned softly and then took herself to task again. No, keep it drama-free, Kim, she told herself tightly. You weren't all over him, you were just…willing. Oh, hell.

The ringing of the doorbell was a welcome relief to her thoughts, but Kim's brow wrinkled as she went to answer the door. It could only be Maggie, but her friend rarely
came unannounced. Perhaps she had had a row with Pete again? Things seemed to be going from bad to worse in that direction and she knew Maggie was getting to the end of her tether with Pete's inability to make any real commitment. Men! Kim was frowning as she opened the door. They were nothing but trouble, the lot of them.

The source of her present and very real trouble was standing straight in front of her, and for a moment Kim could only stare up into Lucas's dark face as she did an imitation of a goldfish in a bowl, her mouth opening and then shutting without emitting a sound.

‘I'm sorry to come to your home like this but I've been trying to call you since just before six,' Lucas said coolly. ‘I understand that a combination of freezing fog and then this latest snow has brought some telephone lines down.'

‘Oh.' Kim stared at him vacantly. The phone hadn't rung since she had been home, but then it rarely did.

‘Can I come in?' Lucas asked patiently.

‘What?' And then she caught herself, flushing hotly as she said, ‘Oh, yes, of course. Come in.'

He looked incredibly big and dark in her little cream-painted hall, and as she indicated for him to walk through into the sitting room she kept a good three feet between them, moving hurriedly to the other side of the room away from his disturbing presence as soon as she could.

He was wearing a thick dark-charcoal overcoat over his suit and it increased the impression of brooding masculinity tenfold, freezing her thought process and making her all of a dither as she said, ‘Sit…sit down, won't you?'

‘Thanks.' He undid his overcoat before taking the seat she had offered with a wave of her hand, placing both hands on the arms of the easy chair and crossing one knee in a pose that was utter male.

She had thought she would at least have another fourteen hours or so before she had to face him again, and with the
memory of the afternoon burning hotly and making her heart pound like a sledge-hammer further small talk was quite beyond Kim. Why was he here?

And then Lucas answered the unspoken question as he said coolly, his voice expressionless, ‘I was looking for the financial report Clare sent through today. I'd attached a note to it asking you to confirm a couple of figures but I assume you left that for tomorrow? I couldn't find it when I looked on your desk, though, and I need it to work on tonight along with the Clarkson file.'

‘Financial report?' Kim stared at him. ‘It was in the papers I gave you this afternoon,' she said uncomprehendingly.

‘I know.' His voice was still flat. ‘I looked at it and made the notes and gave it back to you along with the correspondence to go out tonight,' he repeated evenly.

She continued to stare at him but now a terrible suspicion had rendered her dumb.

The silver eyes hadn't changed expression, neither had he spoken again, but somehow—in spite of Lucas's apparent calmness and immobility—Kim knew the same suspicion had occurred to him.

‘You're sure you gave it back to me?' she asked faintly.

He nodded once.

‘And…and you can't find it?'

He shook his head.

She felt sick, her stomach churning so much it threatened to let go of the soup and crumpets. ‘I…I didn't see it,' she admitted miserably.

‘Which means?'

The full enormity of the colossal mistake was sweeping over her. She hadn't been thinking straight when she had stuffed the letters into their envelopes that afternoon; she could easily have included the report with one of them. That was bad enough in itself, but it was a highly confi
dential breakdown of profit margins and sources to several suppliers, one or two of which Lucas had written to that day. If the report was in one of those envelopes…

Kim didn't prevaricate, taking a deep breath which didn't ease her thumping heart at all before she said, ‘I must have sent it out with the letters. I'm terribly sorry, Lucas.'

‘Any idea which one?' He hadn't raised his voice by so much as a decibel.

She wanted to shut her eyes and wring her hands, at the very least to groan out loud, but she shook her head, her eyes tragic as she said again, ‘I'm so sorry, I really am. There's no excuse for such carelessness. I'll resign immediately, of course.'

‘I don't want you to resign, Kim. I want you to think and tell me which letter the damn report is in.'

‘I don't
know
.' It was in the form of a wail. ‘It could be in any one of them.'

‘Including Turners and Breedon?' In spite of all his efforts Lucas's voice was no longer expressionless.

‘Yes.'

He looked down at his handmade shoes, the blue-black of his thick short hair adding to the overall dark maleness which seemed so alien in her little home, and Kim watched him helplessly. How could she have been so irresponsible, so criminally slipshod? This was the end; it had to be. Even if he didn't demand her resignation right away there was no chance of him ever trusting her again.

Useless to tell herself that she had been suffering the worst attack of panic she'd ever experienced in her life at the time of the blunder. That the feel of being in his arms, even for a few short moments, had caused emotions she'd never thought to feel again—never
had
felt, really, because certainly Graham, even in their carefree university days, hadn't inspired such overwhelming sexual awareness.

Lucas Kane didn't want to hear all that, even if she could
tell him—which of course was impossible. She would rather be hung, drawn and quartered!

‘Mummy?'

As Kim's eyes focused on the tiny figure of her daughter standing in the doorway she was aware of Lucas's head snapping upwards, but she was already walking across the room, her voice soft as she said, ‘It's all right, sweetheart. You finish clearing up your room and I'll be up in a minute.'

‘I have finished.' Melody had sensed some kind of atmosphere and wasn't about to be ushered away without protest. ‘Hello.' She cut through anything Kim might have said with the directness of childhood as she stared straight into the silver-grey eyes and added, ‘I'm Melody Allen.'

‘How do you do, Melody? I'm Lucas Kane,' Lucas said softly.

‘My mummy works for you,' Melody said interestedly.

‘That's right, darling.' It was Kim who answered and now her voice held a note Melody recognised when she added, ‘Go and start getting ready for your bath
now
.' For some reason, and Kim couldn't have explained it even to herself, she didn't want her daughter to have anything to do with this man. Not even in the slightest way.

Melody nodded and even took one step backwards into the hall, but her innate friendliness added to healthy curiosity was too much, and her little voice piped up, again directed at Lucas when she said, ‘We made a snowman and had crumpets for tea. Have you seen my snowman?'

‘Not yet but I'd like to,' Lucas said quietly, smiling across at the small child who was a charming miniature of her beautiful mother. ‘Perhaps you can show him to me after your bath?'

This was getting out of hand. ‘I don't allow Melody to bathe herself,' Kim put in quickly, wishing he would go. The letters had gone and there was nothing she could do
tonight to retrieve the situation. She would resign—eat humble pie, grovel, whatever he demanded—tomorrow, but she couldn't cope with seeing him in her home or talking to her daughter. It made him too…human.

‘I can wait.' The silvery eyes challenged her to say more and Kim knew, she
knew
he had read her mind again.

‘But you must be very busy—'

‘I can wait,' he repeated smoothly.

‘Do you like crumpets?' Melody had clearly decided this silly adult conversation had gone on long enough. ‘We've got some left and you can have one if you like,' she offered magnanimously.

Lucas raised his gaze from Melody's sweet, dark-eyed face to her mother's horrified one, and Kim noticed his mouth was twitching and the silver eyes were bright with barely concealed amusement. ‘I love crumpets,' he said very seriously, lowering his gaze to Melody's, ‘and as I haven't had my tea yet that sounds great.'

‘Great' wasn't quite the word she would have chosen. Kim stared helplessly, first at Melody and then at Lucas, who was returning her daughter's grin, and knew she had been outmanoeuvred by a pair of experts.

‘You haven't eaten?' she murmured weakly.

‘No, Kim, I haven't eaten,' he agreed quizzically.

She didn't believe this! How on earth had she found herself in this situation? she asked herself with silent despair. ‘We…we had hot soup and rolls followed by crumpets with butter and jam,' she managed fairly distinctly, despite the choking feeling in her throat, ‘but I can rustle up an omelette or a pizza if you'd prefer?'

‘Soup and crumpets sound good to me.' He was speaking to her but smiling at Melody as he spoke, and again the panicky sensation took Kim's breath away.

It made sense to fix Lucas's meal before she took Melody up for her bath, but she didn't want to leave her
daughter with her boss. She didn't want them to get on too well—for Melody to like him. Her brain was racing but the small-mindedness of her thoughts wasn't lost on Kim. But she
needed
to keep him absolutely separate in her head, she told herself frantically, isolated under the heading ‘work' and totally detached from her personal life. She didn't dare question why; she just knew it was imperative.

‘Do you want to come and help me fix a tray for Mr Kane?'

In spite of the gentleness of her mother's voice, Melody knew a rhetorical question when she heard one, and now the small blonde head nodded obediently.

A larger, dark head across the room registered the message in the ‘Mr Kane', but the crystal-clear eyes continued to smile at the little girl as Lucas said softly, ‘Thanks, Melody, and I look forward to seeing that snowman later.'

‘Make yourself comfortable.' Kim couldn't get out of the room fast enough. ‘I'll bring you a coffee in a moment, or perhaps you'd like a glass of wine?'

‘I'm driving.' It was an answer in itself and Kim recalled he hadn't had anything stronger than mineral water at lunch, although the wine had been flowing freely and the other two men had imbibed.

A sudden memory—vivid in all its distasteful clarity—of Graham downing half a bottle of vodka before breakfast and then wondering why she had refused to let him take her and Melody to the shops in the car reared its head. It had resulted in a huge row; he had actually struck her that morning.