Читать книгу Captivated By The Enigmatic Tycoon - Bella Bucannon - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

JACK SMILED AT his aunt, let out a huff of breath and picked up his coffee, relishing the strong rich flavour. He’d hold his tongue for now and do his own private investigation of Ms Cassie Clarkson later.

He refocused on the alluring stranger with the steady gaze who unsettled his heartbeat and had him speculating how dark her eyes would grow in desire. How many other men had she swayed with her pacifying manner? Not his affair. Bad choice of word.

He gave her his full attention as she continued, noting liquid had no effect on her unique voice. Did passion?

Focus, Randell.

‘Family contribution and involvement can be emotive, which often leads to controversy. I always recommend nothing is given to charity or thrown away without consultation.’

‘We decided the best plan was to bring everything downstairs for me to check,’ Mel interjected, and he swung towards her.

‘The clothes I want for use will go in the room I’m sleeping in now, and others for keeping can go back to my bedroom. The family will be invited to help themselves from the rest. Now, are you going to play nice or do I ban you until we’ve finished?’

She wouldn’t.

One glance at her beloved, resolute face and he capitulated. Being forbidden to come here was unthinkable, even for a short time. He held both hands up in defeat, his empty mug hanging on one finger.

‘Okay, I surrender. Need help with anything? I’m free for the rest of the day.’ Though his expertise in women’s clothes was more in the line of removing them, not shifting them around.

‘I do have a list of minor repairs you can look at. Would you like to stay for dinner?’

‘Do you need to ask?’ He stood up just as a new symphony came through the speakers set high in two corners. ‘It’s good to hear Strauss again. I feel a definite urge to waltz you round the furniture right now.’

Mel laughed. ‘Give my leg a little longer, and I’ll accept.’ She rose gracefully to her feet, pride in her voice as she told Cassie, ‘I taught all his generation proper ballroom dancing.’

Jack’s heart swelled at her lithe movements, belying her age and the trauma she’d been through. He prayed she’d stay as bright and feisty for many years. Seeing Cassie sneak an extra chocolate biscuit as she got to her feet, he raised his eyebrows. She noticed and her eyes sparkled, daring him to comment as she took a bite.

He let his gaze flick over her slender figure then grinned. Dipping his head, he gestured for her to precede him to the door, admiring the delectable view as she did.

He prided himself on his judgement of character, improved through the years of buying and renting properties, and honed by the few instances of being conned. It failed him where Cassie Clarkson was concerned, and he didn’t want to dwell too much on the reason. He’d treat her with respect and ignore his attraction, though keeping an eye on her wouldn’t be hard to take at all.

Having strangers think he wasn’t as affluent as Mel or others suited him fine. He relished the hands-on work he did equally with the intellectual stimulation of the stock market. He enjoyed the easy relationship with the people he did maintenance jobs for, and disliked the fact it would lose its informality if they found out he was also their landlord.

Flaunting his initial successes, even to his family, had seemed conceited so he played it down, not worried if others believed he wasted his potential. He understood how money influenced people’s attitude, having let it rule him in his teens. Personal ambition had driven him to seek after-school employment and invest in shares.

He’d soon discovered that for some girls his name and the prospect of money took priority over the person behind them. Now wiser, and matured by experience, he wanted people to admire him because of who he was, and how he acted, not for the numbers on his tax return.

After discussing the precise, neatly written task list with Mel, he went to fetch appropriate tools from his vehicle. On his return, he heard voices from the family room and glanced in. One of the racks was now almost full, there were evening gowns on the second, and more clothes lay on the covered billiard table against the side wall.

He couldn’t hear what they said but their mingled laughter tipped the scales in Cassie’s favour. Mel was happier than she’d been since the car accident. He backed away and went to tighten the hinges on the kitchen cupboard doors, wishing it were a complicated task to keep his mind from straying to bold walnut-brown eyes and kissable lips.

* * *

Cassie made four trips to one of the spare bedrooms for classical evening wear that sparked a slight twinge of envy. She loved the textures, colours and styling of brand names she recognised from magazines. Her yearly spending on new clothing was probably less than some of these dresses or outfits had cost on their own.

During her long meeting with Mel over lunch in the city, and in less than a day here, she’d gained an impression of an ever-expanding well-educated, affluent family with skilled professions and good standing in the community.

It was also obvious they were close-knit and devoted. She’d seen the same in many families, though had no idea how it really felt to have multiple relatives. There had always been friends to play and share birthdays with but over time many had changed school or moved away.

Narelle had been a constant friend since her family had moved into the neighbourhood when they were both eleven. Within the first week at high school, they’d formed a group with two boys and another girl, the bonds strong to this day. Their families had always welcomed her in their homes, encouraging her to be part of their everyday lives and never giving her reason to feel like an outsider.

Yet much of the time she’d felt as if she had an internal barrier preventing her from allowing herself to completely become part of it all. It was as if she were an audience member who had wandered up onto the stage and didn’t know her lines but enjoyed watching from up close.

At odd moments in her youth, usually late at night, she’d sometimes fantasise about having a real sibling. She had never, before or now, had any interest or curiosity about her birth parents. Not even when she’d lost Mum and felt completely alone for a while—still did on occasion, no matter how much support her friends gave her.

This was the main reason she’d rented out the home she’d inherited and moved in with Brad and Phil three years ago. They were as close to brothers as she’d ever have, and would probably tease her mercilessly if she mentioned that spark when she and Jack shook hands.

He was an enigma, born into the elite class of Adelaide yet he’d chosen a trade for his profession. As she went through the foyer, she could hear him humming in the kitchen. It reminded her of Mel’s excitement after he’d phoned earlier to say he’d arrived home late yesterday and would call in today.

‘He’s been my mainstay since Bob died. Could have joined the family law firm but studied business management instead and passed with honours. I don’t know why he chose to work in property repair and maintenance, though he is buying houses that he rents out.’

She’d said the latter as if it were the epitome of success.

‘He can be very reticent at times, and I’m not sure how many he has, three, maybe more by now, plus his home at Port Noarlunga. I just wish he’d find someone special and settle down. Casual short-term affairs, even if they end without acrimony, are no substitute for a long, happy marriage. I’m sure that mishap... No, that’s in the past.’

As far as Cassie was concerned, any attractive male his age who’d never come near to being engaged or married had to have serious commitment issues. Her own situation didn’t count. Being illegitimate, alone and knowing nothing of her paternal heritage made her wary of close relationships.

How could she offer any man all he’d desire in a wife and partner when there was no paternal name on her birth certificate? When she had no family history to offer?

‘Sorry I’ve been so long. A friend wanted my recipe for jam drop biscuits.’

Cassie started, though she was getting used to Mel’s voice preceding her into a room. Adjusting the straps of a dress on the rack gave her a moment to refocus. The red silk under her fingers was so fine, she could imagine the luxurious texture against her skin as she swayed or danced. It was every woman’s dream, a spectacular gown for a romantic waltz in a special man’s arms.

Mel came closer. ‘Oh, my goodness, I don’t even remember some of these clothes. How did I collect so many?’

‘You could hold a garage sale and finance a Pacific cruise.’ Jack’s amused voice made Cassie spin round. She’d assumed Mel was alone.

‘Don’t be flippant, Jack.’ His aunt’s tone softened her words. ‘We donate unwanted goods, not sell them.’

‘There are outlets for high quality second-hand fashions,’ Cassie told them. ‘They’d fetch a higher price than a charity could charge, and you could donate the money. We still have to empty the second wardrobe.’

‘Hmm, what do you think, Jack?’

‘It’s worth checking into. Now, if Cassie will show me which hinges need tightening upstairs, I’ll get them done now.’

His smile didn’t reach his green eyes and her instinct was to decline. He could easily tell which ones were loose so why ask for her help? She answered with a curt nod.

Knowing he was following did funny things to her usual composed bearing, and she found herself taking the stairs with slow careful steps. Heat from his eyes skittled up and down her spine and the ripple in her belly was like a soft breeze stirring waves on the sea. Long steady breaths didn’t quell her escalating heartbeat.

She twisted round at the top, grasping the rarity of being almost eye to eye. He caught her elbow without giving her a chance to speak, and gently propelled her to the bedroom at the far end of the passage.

Shaking free from his tingling hold, she stepped back a few paces and kept her voice low. ‘As if you need help. This is like a second home for you.’ Even huskier than normal when she’d meant to sound forceful.

He leant on the doorjamb, the rigidity of his muscles negating his casual stance, and gazed at her silently, features composed. This was a man adept at verbal negotiations. His lips curled confidently, and her body quivered as if he’d stroked warm fingers across her skin. She instinctively re-ran her mantra in her head.

Stay strong. Keep distance.

‘Sounds like you’ve heard a lot in one day, Cassie Clarkson.’

‘It comes with the job. People, especially if they live alone, often open up to someone who’s temporary and won’t have a lasting connection in their life.’

‘You remember what they tell you.’

‘I’ve learnt not to retain the sensitive personal stuff. But I’ll never forget your aunt’s courage and determination to rebuild her life for the second time. She’s inspiring.’

He straightened up and took a pace forward. She sucked in air and held her ground.

‘She’s vulnerable since she lost Bob, even more so now.’

‘How long since...?’

‘Three years. Two months after their forty-fifth anniversary.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. ‘Imagine losing someone after forty-five years, how suddenly the one you care about is no longer there.’

She heard deep pain in the last few words, empathised as hers had hardly eased. Was it Bob or someone else he grieved for?

‘She has all of you. That’s more than some people have.’

His head jerked up and she averted her eyes.

He’s smart, Cassie. Guard what you say. Keep strong and quiet.

‘I assume you have references that can be verified.’ Blunt, as if he regretted showing emotion.

‘Of course.’ She held his gaze. She had nothing to hide except her inexplicable responses to him.

His low grunt showed he wasn’t quite convinced. ‘Do you have them with you? May I see them?’ Calmly stated with an I-won’t-be-dissuaded manner.

‘Not unless Mel requests it.’ She mimicked his attitude, prepared to be polite, refusing to be bullied.

He frowned and came closer, into her personal space. ‘She can be too trusting. I’m betting she hasn’t asked for them.’

She smelt clean male sweat with a hint of sandalwood each time she inhaled, fought the instinct to run from the room. Yet not from fear; quite the opposite. She had an irrational urge to edge forward, minimise the gap.

Jack could sense a women’s attraction for him, but it didn’t mean he’d follow through. Cassie was giving out mixed messages. Her body implied yes, her eyes were wary and her voice said no. She boldly locked eyes with him—he now discerned a fine gold rim round her dark brown irises, yet at times there were shutters, like a misty blind she lowered at will.

She had spunk, hadn’t backed off even though he came near enough to detect the faint aroma of peaches. Sweet. Enticing. He was aware of her in a new, unnerving way and his body responded to her, male to female.

His gut feeling said she had secrets hidden behind solid barriers no one was permitted to breach. She could keep them unless they caused trouble for Mel. His life ran smoothly and his long-term strategy for success was on track. As alluring as she was, he’d never let his guard down, never again let a woman believe she could manipulate him.

Tara had swayed him so many times, with her pouting lips and soft caresses, had been convinced she’d succeed again on the trip to the snowfields nine years ago. With blue eyes misting, she’d denied flirting with the ski instructor, only he’d seen her and anger had flared at her lies. Bitter accusations had ended with him telling her to find some other patsy and flinging himself onto the bed they’d shared, telling her not to wake him if she came back.

She hadn’t returned. An impulsive decision to ski alone on an unfamiliar track had ended her life. He couldn’t change the past but by keeping rigid control of his temper he had command of his future.

Challenge flared in Cassie’s eyes, her lips curled and she tilted her head like a beguiling child. ‘Why don’t you check with her when you come down?’

The emotive tone in her voice didn’t quite match the softer personal one in her eyes. And he wasn’t sure which one he’d like to pursue, despite his recent vow. He gestured for her to pass and she did.

Too quick. Too close. Her fingers brushed his arm and a bolt of energy shot through him, like nothing he’d felt in his life. She’d been affected too, though she hid her reaction well. Had she picked up static from moving around a large carpeted house all day? Had to be that.

So touch her again and prove it.

Not a chance he was game to take at the moment.

* * *

Cassie wasn’t sure how she made it out of the room without buckling to the floor. She huffed out the air captured in her lungs when the electrical charge from his touch short-circuited coherent thought and action. Fleeing to the safety of the family room, she was thankful to be alone.

Once she could dismiss as an anomaly, twice was... Did he pick up static electricity in his work? Didn’t tradies’ boots counteract that? Logic told her they did, as there’d been no reaction when he’d hugged his aunt.

She didn’t want to be logical. She wanted to be safe from any involvement with Jack Randell or any other man of his social status. Conceived during an illicit one-night stand, she knew exactly what she was, and how she’d be regarded by elite society. And how easily a man’s declared devotion could evaporate when tested.

Jack’s appearance and actions gave the impression of a man working his way up the financial ladder, but he had wealthy connections and he’d probably inherit. Whatever the incentive for his current lifestyle, it would be an easy switch to his family’s world of fancy cars and fine dining. She’d never have the luxury of such a choice—her world was compact sedans and home cooking.

Letting out a light self-deprecating laugh, she walked over to the desk where she’d left her laptop next to Mel’s computer and printer. Any spark of attraction he’d felt would dissipate at her lack of encouragement.

He’d have jobs waiting to be done during the day and friends to catch up with at night so he probably wouldn’t be around much. On Thursday afternoon she’d give Mel her printouts plus a list of exclusive second-hand fashion boutiques, and drive away. That just left tonight to resist his innate charm.

Her body relaxed as she slow breathed, doing her steadying count to fourteen and repeating her mantra. Stay strong. Keep distance. She resumed checking labels and sizes, mystified by a world where haute couture and fashion changes were all-important. Why should someone be judged by the brand or style of the clothes they wore?

Neat comfortable jeans and muted tops or jumpers were her standard uniform. Her casual sneakers, boots or safety footwear were a far cry from the large array of high-heeled shoes she’d seen upstairs. They and others with sturdy low heels would be brought down and sorted for the female family members to view.