Captivated by the Enigmatic Tycoon Read online

  ‘Drive straight into the garage.’ He glanced between the seats. ‘Hi, Sam, ready for a walk?’ The answering woof echoed in the enclosed space.

  Their entrance automatically activated overhead lights in the spacious garage running the length of the house. Cassie parked behind Jack’s ute and stepped out, staring in amazement. This was the cleanest, tidiest workshop area she’d ever seen, and she’d been in quite a few.

  A wide bench cupboard stretched about two-thirds of the way along the right-hand wall, ending at the rear, where there was a matching roller door to the back garden. On top of the bench—absolutely clear except for a chainsaw in pieces—were a mixture of cupboards and shelves for the length of his ute. Shadow boards displaying tools and equipment covered the remaining wall space.

  Everything was packed neatly away, nothing out of place, no oil spills on the floor. The one incongruity was the large framed painting hanging on the wall next to the door leading into the house. It depicted a mountain in winter, reminiscent of holiday brochure photos for the ski season in the Snowy Mountains. Its snow-covered peaks led the eyes down to increasing expanses of trees on the lower slopes.

  Why had he deliberately placed it so it was in his direct eyeline whenever he came home?

  ‘Cassie?’

  She turned to find Jack, with an amused expression, and Sam, head tilted and tail wagging, waiting for her by the boot of her car.

  ‘Sam and I are hungry.’

  So was she, and not just for food. She drank in the sheer masculinity of him, from his colourful runners to his natural mussed light brown hair. In his tan chinos, brown polo neck sweater and zip-up green jacket he epitomised an outdoor man. The idea of him spending his life wearing a suit and sitting in front of a computer in an air-conditioned office was absurd.

  And so was the soft bright red patterned zip-up bag hanging on his shoulder. She burst out laughing, startling man and dog, who exchanged puzzled looks. Lifting it off, she slipped it over her head then gave him a once-over.

  ‘Much better for your image. Let’s go.’

  ‘Ladies first.’

  He glanced back at the painting as she passed him, deepening her intrigue. Once he’d closed the roller door, he pocketed his keys and took her hand, enclosing it in his. The air was cooler than she’d expected, justifying her choice of jeans and roll-neck jumper beneath her wool-blend jacket. Winter socks and sneakers kept her feet warm. She rarely wore gloves or anything on her head.

  ‘I like the garden. Your work?’ In truth, she loved the setting of pebble stones and three large rocks, interspersed with ground cover and plants of varying heights, different shades of green and some with bright coloured leaves.

  ‘My plan, plus a barbecue for family and friends who helped. I’ll show you the back yard later.’

  ‘It’s an impressive home. Not very old, from the style.’ She daren’t imagine the size of the mortgage, if he even had one. Family connections might have helped out there.

  ‘It was a lucky break for me as I knew the couple who were building. He was offered a promotion entailing a five-year stint in the States a few days after the foundation had been poured. I took over their contract, negotiated a few changes, and moved in mid-December two years ago.’

  Jack was well aware of how lucky he’d been. A short time earlier, the couple would have cancelled the contract and sold the empty block. A month later and he’d have already invested his equity in another property. He was also convinced that luck followed those who planned ahead, and were able to take advantage of it.

  A gust of wind caught them at the corner leading down to the esplanade. Two women power-walked along the sand, a large black Labrador bounding beside them. Seagulls circled above them, squawking loudly before dipping towards the sea. He turned to Cassie and her radiant smile dried his throat, preventing speech.

  ‘Mum used to call this brisk. Cool morning air with a nip in the breeze. I love it.’

  It showed. That breeze stirred strands of her hair, blowing them over her chilled red cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as if this were a big adventure, and her smile gave him the credit for arranging it. His chest swelled as he sucked in cold air, and his heartbeat raced, faster than when he ran. He’d happily accept any acclaim, especially if it furthered their friendship.

  ‘You’re not too cold? I ought to have told you to bring gloves and a beanie. Or lent you one of mine.’

  ‘And mess up my hair? You’re not wearing one.’ She laughed, the sweet sound wrapping around him, enticing him to pull her closer to his side.

  ‘I’m used to it. Uh-huh, not chauvinistic.’ He pre-empted her next words. ‘I run in the mornings as often as I can. It definitely gets the adrenaline going during the cold months.’

  They stopped to cross the road, Sam straining to get to the sand.

  ‘Heel, Sam. Breakfast first.’

  The café was a short walk along the esplanade, with outside seating under large umbrellas. Sam settled next to a large ceramic bowl filled with clean water in the corner. Jack dropped the leash on the ground, held the canvas seat with an ocean view for Cassie then sat by her side.

  ‘I’m having the big breakfast and coffee, and I guarantee whatever you fancy will be fresh and tasty,’ Jack said, not bothering to check the menu. ‘A solid run, a hot meal and I’m ready for the day. Hi, Sue.’

  He introduced Cassie to the waitress, who owned and ran the business with her husband. They shared a joke as she wrote down his order plus two grilled meat patties for Sam, though he was aware of Cassie’s gaze flicking up and down the menu as if rereading the items would help her select one.

  ‘Too many choices? Pick one and have another next time.’ He loved the way her brows arched, as if questioning his mind-reading ability.

  Loved? Figure of speech.

  She finally placed the menu down with a soft huff and smiled at Sue.

  ‘I’ll have a ham omelette, please, and an apple and ginger tea. I’ve never tried that flavour.’

  ‘It’s delicious and refreshing. Won’t be long.’

  Jack arched his back, gave Cassie a rueful grin when she noticed and her expression became thoughtful.

  ‘It’s been a hectic three long days. Didn’t get home till near eleven last night, too late to call.’ Because he’d missed her and her unique voice, and wouldn’t have been able to keep it short.

  ‘You look tired. It might have been better if you’d slept in.’

  He gave her his best horrified stare. ‘And miss breakfast with you two.’

  Her laughter was worth any number of hours sleep.

  ‘This week it’s back to normal. Can I come to dinner tonight?’

  His abrupt question startled Cassie. A picture of old-fashioned domestic bliss flashed into her head; a cosy dinner for two, hot and ready for the man of the house the moment he arrived home from work. Candles and music and...

  ‘Awk.’ A seagull swooped to the ground right by their table to scoop up a discarded scrap of food. Sam barked and the vision dissolved in a pang of regret. Jack’s arrogant smirk didn’t help.

  ‘See, I even provide tableside entertainment.’

  She tilted her head, and pursed her lips.

  ‘You? Hmm. Okay, give us an encore.’

  ‘Well, um. Ah, saved by the lady bearing drinks.’

  Cassie sipped the hot, invigorating tea, enjoying its tart flavour, and trying to recall what they’d been talking about before. Oh, yes. Jack’s request. She looked up into appealing green eyes and wondered if anyone ever refused him. Her normally coherent brain certainly couldn’t come up with a single reason.

  ‘I’m a basic cook, nothing fancy like you’re probably used to.’

  His face darkened for a second then cleared, so fast she might have imagined it. The fingers of his hand flattened out on t
he table, his chest rose and fell and his penetrating eyes held hers captive.

  ‘Is that how you see me, Cassie? Part of the elite who dine rather than eat, are served rather than cook, and expect to have their wineglasses refilled throughout the meal?’

  ‘No!’ Her cup clinked as she abruptly set it down. Her stomach churned and her cheeks burned with shame. ‘How could you think that? I know your family is well off, and you often have meals with Mel, who has great culinary skills, but you bought hamburgers that morning and...’

  ‘I’m an idiot who just overreacted.’ He reached out and lifted her hand, cradling it in his, and stroking her knuckles with his thumb in a slow, mesmerising motion. ‘A throwback to teenage years defending my family status from contemporaries who thought I believed I was superior.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. She realised her ambiguity, and pulled her hand away in remorse. Closing her eyes made it worse as her mind conjured up chops and onions grilling over a crackling campfire. Complete with tantalising smells.

  ‘Here we are.’

  Her eyes flew open to a view of a fluffy omelette garnished with parsley being lowered in front of her. The stronger aromas making her mouth water were from Jack’s meal in Sue’s other hand.

  Big breakfast? It was huge, more than she normally ate in a whole day—bacon, two fried eggs, two sausages, tomato, mushrooms and a hash brown. She was still staring when Sue returned with a rack of toast, a dish of scrolled butter and the two patties on a disposable plate for Sam.

  ‘You’re going to eat all that?’

  ‘A working man needs sustenance. This, and a sandwich for lunch, will keep me going until dinner when I’m active.’ Jack picked up his cutlery and began to eat. ‘Other less physical days, I cut back. Aren’t you going to eat? Tastes better hot.’

  ‘So you’re working this afternoon.’ She began to eat her omelette. It was delicious, lighter and tastier than she’d ever been able to achieve.

  ‘Yeah, and it’s this side of town so I can be with you before seven. If I’m still welcome?’

  He phrased the remark as a question, putting the burden of veto on her. She didn’t answer, ate and thought, weighing up the risks. More contact meant more chance—no, certainty—of closer involvement. He’d already proved how easily he could obliterate any resistance to his touch. If—when—he kissed her again, would she be able to fortify her defences enough to say no, should he try to take it further?

  She raised her head and found him watching her with such a hopeful expression her heart flipped and the sudden sharp wrench to her stomach left her breathless.

  Dropping her gaze was an instinctive action to hide the answer he’d have no trouble reading. She wouldn’t refuse him but appearing too eager would give him the advantage.

  Yeah, as if he doesn’t already know he has it. You can’t keep distance. Try to stay strong.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JACK REACHED FOR his coffee mug and drank the strong brew. At the time of suggesting they spend time together, he’d told himself finding out more about her would protect his aunt. Now he knew he’d been deceiving himself.

  His resolve to treat Cassie with detached respect in consideration to Mel, and to Cassie herself, was being undermined by his attraction for her, the desire to see her, touch her, and hear her edgy voice which always sent his pulse racing.

  Sitting across the table from her was pure pleasure. He’d be happy to stay here all day, and drink in the soft sheen of her dark hair, the delicate curve of her silk-smooth cheeks and her red lips with their tiny quirk.

  She’d looked down so quickly he hadn’t been able to gauge her response. A controlled man, unlike the easily provoked teenager he’d been, he’d learnt anything worth having was worth waiting for. He finished his meal and was draining his coffee mug when she pushed her plate away and made eye contact. In an unusual occurrence for him, he couldn’t read the message in her sombre contemplation.

  ‘I’m pushing too hard, aren’t I? It’s as if... Hell, I can’t explain. Let’s eat and walk. I’ll abide by whatever decision you make before you go home.’

  If he’d told her the truth, she’d think he was crazy. Since he’d kissed her, he’d had a sense of being on restricted time, and he had no idea why or what for. He didn’t believe in hunches or premonitions, basing his life on solid facts and experience.

  He’d never lacked confidence with women, found it easy to approach someone he fancied. Cassie was like no one he’d ever met, independent yet vulnerable, prepared to stand up to him yet mindful of her employed position. With her, he wasn’t sure of the rules of play but her enchanting smile and simple nod of acceptance satisfied him.

  He went inside to pay, leaving Cassie to finish her tea and stir up Sam who, happy and fed, was curled up, dozing. They waited for him on the footpath, Cassie hunkering down to scratch Sam’s ears. He was shuddering with delight, his tail sweeping the ground as she talked to him, and Jack knew exactly how he felt.

  Two heads turned and two pairs of solemn eyes regarded him for a second then Sam barked a greeting and Cassie’s lips curled into an encouraging smile before she spoke.

  ‘Chicken stir-fry with rice? No critiquing allowed.’

  ‘Not even if it’s positive?’ He made a mental Yes! gesture in his head, tempering the urge to say it out loud and punch the air.

  ‘I’ll take that in writing.’ She laughed and relinquished control of the dog.

  He took the leash, relishing the now familiar ripple that flowed through him at her musical sound, and linked their fingers. They crossed the road towards the beach.

  Although the sun shone, the breeze had picked up during their meal on the sheltered veranda. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea? Would it be better to go back to his house, and invite her another day when it was warmer?

  * * *

  Cassie noticed a few hardy swimmers keeping a good pace through the water, arms and legs pumping them along. She admired the resilience of the surfers sitting out there on their boards, legs dangling in the surf, waiting for a perfect wave. Not understanding why their muscles didn’t cramp from limited motion in this cold weather, she shivered, hugging her jacket tighter.

  ‘Too cold?’ Jack let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her, drawing her closer to his side.

  She shook her head. He’d invited her for a walk and she’d hold him to it.

  ‘No, I’m fine. Wouldn’t be out there for anything, though.’

  ‘Wetsuits and adrenaline nullify the cold when you catch a good wave. Sure you don’t want to try?’

  She picked up on the challenge in his voice.

  ‘Not until summer.’ Slipping from his hold, she stepped onto the sand and headed for the sea.

  ‘It’s a date.’ He came after her, almost knocking her over when she suddenly swung around. He caught her by the waist to steady her, dark green eyes gleaming.

  ‘That’s not...’

  ‘No chickening out. And—’ he pressed a quick kiss on her lips to stifle her protest ‘—we can hire or borrow a wetsuit your size.’ Arms outstretched, he scanned her body, and wriggled his eyebrows. ‘Slender perfection.’

  She tapped his chest in mock displeasure. ‘Idiot.’

  He unclipped Sam’s lead, ordering him to stay close before letting him go.

  ‘Isn’t he supposed to be kept on a leash?’ There were signs clearly stating council regulations.

  ‘Kept under control. He won’t go more than a few metres from us even if another dog comes near. Unless it threatens you or me, and then a firm “Stay, Sam” will have him sitting, but ready, between us and the danger.’

  ‘He’s a credit to whoever trained him.’

  ‘Bob and Mel, with help, and I use the term loosely, from any child w
ho visited. Let’s go.’

  He retook her hand and they strolled along the shoreline, passing morning joggers and dog walkers, many giving their pets a free romp in the sea. Jack hadn’t been kidding; Sam ran ahead then either splashed in the foam until they reached him or loped back.

  Jack described the different moves and stances the surfers made on their journey to the shore, and claimed tongue-in-cheek he could have been a champion. She admitted to giving up after not being able to stand up in motion.

  ‘Wait till you try with an expert coach.’ His attempt to look humble made her laugh.

  ‘Humility’s not your style, Jack Randell.’

  He joined in. ‘You wouldn’t want me to lie, would you?’

  This was nice, friendly. Comfortable. She’d be content to stroll all day, talking casually about the world around them or in companionable silence.

  They were within sight of the café on the return trip when they stopped to laugh at a black and white terrier challenging the might of the ocean. Focused on his antics, they were oblivious to undulation behind them until the water swirled around their shoes.

  Cassie skittled up the sand, looked back, and stilled. She held her breath and clasped a hand to her chest as a lump formed in her throat. This was one of those special moments to be stored away and brought out when her spirits needed a boost.

  She turned her head from left to right, noting every sight and sound. The sun’s radiance, tempered by banks of clouds being blown across the sky, a cruise ship on the horizon, inciting holiday dreams, and the surfers weaving their way to shore. This backdrop, the people and their pets, were essential images of the whole. And in centre foreground stood Jack, now on firm sand, arms folded, head slightly tilted, regarding her with a quizzical expression.

  Closing her eyes, she seared the panorama into her mind for the future. Not enough—the urge for something more tangible gripped her. Her phone was out in an instant and she snapped him before he had the chance to protest or alter that look. Took two more for insurance.