Читать книгу Captivated By The Enigmatic Tycoon - Bella Bucannon - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

JACK WAS MULLING over his conversation with Cassie when he found Mel setting the table in the dining room. His heart lifted at the sight of the flower centrepiece and the crystal glasses beside each place setting, as they’d always been at dinner before her accident. A few stupid seconds of driving inattention to check a text and a teenager’s car had veered towards the kerb. Overcorrecting had sent it slamming into Mel’s daughter’s passenger door. And Mel.

The weeks in hospital and drawn-out rehabilitation, with a broken leg and lacerations on her arm and across the top of her chest, had taken a toll. Table decorations didn’t sound like much but he thanked whatever gods there were that she seemed to be embracing the life she’d loved again.

Not being able to drive, stand for long to cook and having to convert the small lounge into a downstairs bedroom had been hard enough. Being reliant on others for everything when she’d struggled so hard to be independent after Bob’s fatal heart attack had almost broken her spirit.

If having the distraction of Cassie Clarkson here for a few days was the price to pay for getting his beloved Aunt Mel back to her old self, so be it.

‘Going classy, huh? Do I need to race home and change?’

Mel’s smile lit up her face, and her eyes shone. ‘I thought Cassie deserved it. She’s a sweet girl, and I like her. What we’re doing is good for me, Jack.’

He walked over and hugged her. ‘I wholeheartedly approve of anything that makes you happy, Mel.’

‘Even if I take it further?’

He pulled back to see her expression. ‘As in?’

‘As in asking Cassie for a quote for a full downsize. Not all at once—over a few months, in between her other contracts. That way it won’t be so tiring and easier to accept.’

A full house sorting? The first step to moving, selling her home. Life-changing for her, and she wanted his approval. This was a chance to make a small repayment for her and Bob’s unconditional support.

‘If it’s what you want and feel you’re ready for, I’m with you one hundred percent. You know you can rely on me, Mel.’

He kissed her cheek and stepped back. ‘Do I have time to take Sam for a run before we eat?’

‘Twenty minutes.’ She patted his cheek as if he were a schoolboy again. ‘Go.’

He went.

* * *

As he pounded along the footpath his mind churned with Mel’s revelation. He’d fallen into the trap of believing that Mel’s continuing recovery meant life would one day be as it always had been. Though he’d hoped she’d relent and have someone move in with her for company and safety.

She, Bob and their home had been his lifeline when home trauma threatened to derail his carefully planned objectives. He’d managed to get through the usual rebellious stage of drinking and partying without irreparable damage to his reputation.

He’d refused to study for the degree his father had wanted him to take, or to join one of the Randell established businesses, which had caused deep-seated angst. His dream to build a property empire had only been shared with Bob. During their discussions in the garden workshop, his great-uncle had taught him how to repair and maintain a home and its contents. He’d also instilled Jack with respect for his tools and the knowledge of their care and maintenance.

He and Mel had encouraged him when he’d got his first after-school job, shelf-stacking at a local supermarket, and celebrated with him after he signed the contract to buy his first rental property. His one small consolation when Bob died was that he’d shared in every success, and had been thrilled when Jack had become a millionaire. Even if it was only on paper or consisting of bricks and mortar.

Thinking of that gentle man caused his heart to ache as if he’d run a marathon. He pushed through the pain. They’d always put his needs first; now it was time for him to man up and do the same for Mel.

Even she didn’t know the true extent of his current finances. Having everyone believe he was buying a few properties and earning his daily living in maintenance kept him grounded and his demons at bay. Even then he could never be sure if it was him or the knowledge of his family’s assets that attracted women. Tara had made it clear that she’d never date anyone she considered below her social status.

Mel’s experiences had further proved that wealth drew frauds and con artists. So many people wanted easy money rather than work for it. Did Cassie? Was she wary of him as Mel’s protector or as a man? Would her attitude change if she found out about his new business venture?

Sometime soon, when he took the next—this time gigantic—corporate step, he’d tell his family, prior to an official announcement. If the current bank negotiations were successful, he’d be purchasing a small suburban shopping centre and have the capital to extend and improve it.

* * *

Cassie stood in the shower, combing conditioner through her hair, trying to make sense of the intensity of her responses to Jack. Her normally guarded nature had abandoned her and she had no idea why.

There’d been interest in his captivating eyes despite his reservations about her presence here. For a second or two she wished she’d packed at least one dress and some make-up to wear in the evenings. A mild flirtation with a handsome eligible man to give her self-esteem a boost was tempting.

What was she thinking?

An hour or so ago, she’d been grateful their association would be short-lived. The man scrambled her brain. Clients’ family members were taboo. Even those with alluring grass-green eyes, football hero muscles and unmanageable hair.

* * *

She was blown away by the table décor when she helped Mel carry the steaming dishes into the dining room. There was even a bottle of wine in an ice bucket near the place settings at one end. This all proved the gulf between her life and theirs. Most evenings at home, she ate from a lap tray while watching television.

Her stomach rumbled as she breathed in the mouth-watering aroma of grilled steak and onion sauce. Until that moment, she hadn’t felt hungry at all.

‘I’m having rosé to drink,’ Mel said as she filled the water glasses. ‘How about you? Jack will probably get a beer from the fridge after his run with Sam.’

‘A run? In his work boots?’

‘He always keeps running shoes in his ute, and it’s a regular outing for Sam. He sulks if any of the younger visitors don’t have time for at least a short walk.’ Mel settled at the head of the table.

‘Rosé sounds nice.’ Cassie poured the two drinks, sat on her hostess’s right and took a slow look around the room. She hadn’t seen it, apart from a quick glance in on her arrival.

The antique mantelpiece, the polished sideboard and two of the papered walls held photographs of family. In here they were casual or celebratory. In the family room, school and sporting pictures covered all four walls. Jack was easily recognisable in many of them.

‘Does Jack call in often?’ She oughtn’t to ask, but couldn’t hold back.

‘It depends on his work. Though he lives twenty minutes from here, most of his regular clients are in the northern and eastern suburbs. You understand the drawbacks of driving that distance.’

Cassie sipped her drink and pondered. Travelling time plus fuel-inflated costs influenced choices, especially for pensioners. Word-of-mouth referrals meant the majority of her clients lived north of Adelaide, as she did. Mel’s insistence she stayed the Tuesday to Thursday nights in her Woodcroft home meant her quote had been favourable.

‘He wasn’t too pleased at your sleeping here. He tends to be cautious where I’m concerned. I told him he should be pleased I wasn’t alone.’

‘It’s good he isn’t sensitive about showing how much he cares.’

‘True, I love that the family are so considerate, just don’t like to be reminded I’m getting older. I’ve warned Jack but he can be tenacious, Cassie. He’ll try to sneak subtle questions into general conversation.’

He already had, and wasn’t subtle at all.

‘He can ask anything he likes.’ She didn’t have to answer.

Sam’s bark echoed from the hall. A moment later he trotted in and curled onto a rug. Jack followed shortly behind, wearing a clean green T-shirt, his boots replaced by black and red runners. Uncapped bottle in hand, he stooped to kiss Mel’s forehead.

‘Sam was pretty keen today; didn’t stop once.’

He sat opposite Cassie, took a deep swig of beer and surveyed her with penetrating interest, causing her to stretch her shoulders. Neither he nor Mel seemed to find it incongruous for him to drink from the bottle at a formally set dinner.

As if reading her thoughts, he carefully poured the remaining liquid into the glass by his cutlery. His sudden grin tripped her heartbeat and sent her pulse racing. She so had to find a way to combat his charm.

‘Maybe you should come with us next time. The way your skin glows, I figure you run on a regular basis.’

He thought she glowed? How could one sentence in a casual tone send tiny quivers of pleasure dancing down her spine? Her fingers trembled as she sipped her wine, hoping she didn’t choke from the sudden tightness in her throat.

Unless all three housemates were home she ate simple meals and salad. This setting was perfect, the grilled steak delicious and the vegetables slightly crunchy, the way she preferred them. This was how she imagined dining in a fancy restaurant would feel, except Jack would be dressed in appropriate attire.

She tried to picture him in a tailored suit and tie and failed. Yet that niggling thought that he projected only what he wanted people to see persisted. His upbringing almost guaranteed black tie in the wardrobe.

‘Cassie, are you with us?’ Mel’s question startled her.

‘Sorry, I was daydreaming, trying to remember when I’ve had a tastier meal.’ She avoided looking across the table, hoping the blush spreading up her neck and cheeks wouldn’t be noticeable under the soft lights of the overhead chandelier.

‘Thank you. We were discussing my granddaughter Janette in Melbourne, whose baby is due in five weeks. I’m going to be a great-grandmother.’

Cassie was acutely aware of Jack’s keen interest, but didn’t understand how that concerned her.

‘That’s so exciting.’ An ideal event to strengthen Mel’s mental recovery.

‘Another sign that life moves on. Deciding to cull my clothes has been freeing for me. I think I’m ready to let go of some items I keep simply because of the past. Would you consider working out a plan to help me downsize in short stages between other commitments?’

Wow, that came out of the blue. She liked Mel and her positive attitude to life, and would happily take on the assignment under normal conditions. Yet Jack’s presence added an emotive element; one she’d have to conquer if she accepted.

He’d be occupied elsewhere during the day and hopefully there wouldn’t be too many evening visits when she stayed over on weeknights. She’d have to be polite and aloof in his company, professional to a T, and avoid any physical contact.

‘I’m sure I can.’ As she finished speaking, she turned as if pulled by an invisible thread to Jack’s enigmatic green eyes.

* * *

Jack hoped his features didn’t reveal his conflicting thoughts. Mel living alone in this big house had worried the family since Bob’s death. Any attempt to discuss sharing or buying a smaller residence had been firmly rejected so the subject had been dropped. If Cassie’s references were as good as Mel claimed, he’d normally have no reservations about her employment.

The problem was him and his instant attraction to her. Hell, he was a mature man and the solution was obvious. Avoid visiting when she was here, and act like the mature man he was supposed to be whenever they met.

‘Won’t that be inconvenient for you?’ He kept his tone as impassive as possible, not easy when her eyes glinted as if she’d read his indecisive mind.

‘Many of my clients are retired, often with health problems. Every contract allows for unforeseen contingencies, and I’ve become extremely adept at rescheduling. There have been times when I’ve juggled multiple jobs successfully.’

She faced Mel. ‘Tomorrow we’ll sit down with diaries and discuss what and when.’

‘Good, that’s settled.’ Mel lifted her wineglass in salute and Cassie clinked it with hers as a signal of agreement. Jack followed suit with his near-empty glass of beer, trying to fathom why he felt as if he’d somehow scored a win.

They debated their favourite television shows over a dessert of fresh fruit and whipped cream. Jack teased Mel about her favourite soap operas, claiming she’d converted many of his generation into avid fans. And wondered why Cassie’s smile at the interaction wasn’t mirrored in her eyes.

He professed not to watch much at all. ‘Sport, documentaries or investigative programmes—whatever’s on at the time. I’d pick you for a movie girl, Cassie, romance or high adventure.’

‘Wrong. Comedies or space sagas, as long as they’re well written and acted. If not, I switch channels. I also enjoy home improvement shows.’

‘How long do you give them before you click?’ He intensified his gaze as he spoke and waited for her answer. Her viewing habits were irrelevant; her character intrigued him.

‘That depends on how bad it is, what else is on and how tired I am.’

Clever, evasive answer.

* * *

The heat coursing through Cassie’s veins had nothing to do with the fake wood fire warming the room, and everything to do with the fact that Jack had turned his attention towards her. His smile and slight raise of one eyebrow hinted he read her true thoughts. He was wrong, couldn’t possibly know Mum’s favourite programme, always set to tape so never missed, was an enduring Aussie soapy.

Stretching her back, she rose and reached for his bowl. ‘I’ll stack the dishwasher if you make the hot drinks?’

‘None for me,’ Mel said. ‘I’ll watch the news with you then I’m off to bed. I feel tired in the nicest possible way. Tomorrow I might have a baking session.’

Which would leave Cassie alone with Jack unless he called it a night too. She’d had a long day, exacerbated by her body’s inexplicable reaction to him, new and unnerving. Could she feign plausible fatigue? How did she somehow know her excuse would be met with scepticism and that eyebrow quirk?

The moment his aunt pushed back her seat to stand, he was there to ease it away and hold her arm. She spoke quietly to him with her back turned to Cassie, and his answering grin stirred a feather-light fluttering in her stomach.

‘Always, Mel.’ He picked up the empty glasses and large bowl. ‘You get settled in the lounge and rest. And I’ll expect cherry and ginger cake next visit.’

He headed for the door, his husky chuckle flooding Cassie with a longing for the easy banter that came with deep affection.

‘Confident boy, isn’t he? Do you think he’d accept something fresh from the bakery?’ Mel’s tongue-in-cheek remark was accompanied with a gentle laugh.

Cassie took a moment to answer, her mind still processing ‘boy’. She doubted there was a single immature cell in Jack Randell’s body.

‘From what I’ve seen, he’d settle for home brand plain biscuits to spend time with you, Mel.’

‘I admit to resorting to packaged cakes and biscuits since the accident, and he’s never even hinted the standard was lower.’