Safe in the Tycoon's Arms. Jennifer Faye
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“You and I are going to be housemates for the night.”
“What? But I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you can. Have you looked outside lately? It’s pouring. And it’s late at night.”
Her lips pressed into a firm line as she got to her feet and pushed in the chair. “I don’t need your charity.”
“Who says it’s charity? You’d be saving me from a load of trouble with my aunt if she found out I kicked you to the curb on a night like this.”
She didn’t have any idea what it was costing him to ask her to stay, even for one night. This place was a tomb of memories. He didn’t want anyone inside here, witnessing his utter failure to keep his family together.
But there was something about Kate—more than the dark smudges beneath her eyes—more than how he found himself attracted to her. There was a vulnerability in her gaze—something he’d guess she’d gone to great pains to hide from everyone—but he’d noticed. Maybe because he’d been vulnerable before too.
“You don’t look too sure about this.”
He was usually much better with his poker face, but the dismal events of the day combined with the lateness of the hour were his undoing.
“I’m not. Let’s just go to bed.”
Her drooping eyelids lifted and he immediately realized how his words could be misconstrued.
“Alone.”
Safe in the
Tycoon’s Arms
Jennifer Faye
In another life, JENNIFER FAYE was a statistician. She still has a love for numbers, formulas and spread-sheets, but when she was presented with the opportunity to follow her lifelong passion and spend her days writing and pursuing her dream of becoming a Mills & Boon® author, she couldn’t pass it up. These days, when she’s not writing, Jennifer enjoys reading, fine needlework, quilting, tweeting and cheering on the Pittsburgh Penguins. She lives in Pennsylvania with her amazingly patient husband, two remarkably talented daughters and their two very spoiled fur babies otherwise known as cats—but shh … don’t tell them they’re not human!
Jennifer loves to hear from readers—you can contact her via her website: www.JenniferFaye.com.
For Viv.
Thank you for being such a good friend over the years. Your helpful advice and unending support are deeply appreciated. Here’s to the future of possibilities.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
A DEAFENING CRACK of thunder rumbled through the darkened house. Kate Whitley pressed a hand to her pounding chest. She’d hated storms since she was a little kid. A brilliant flash of lightning sent shards of light slashing across the hallway while rain pelted the window.
Mother Nature certainly had a wicked sense of humor. Actually, it seemed as though life as a whole was mocking Kate. Absolutely nothing was going according to plan, no matter how hard she fought to put things right.
Her fingers pushed against the cold metallic plate on the swinging hall door. Inside the kitchen, the glare from the overhead light caused her to squint. What in the world was going on? She could have sworn she’d turned everything off before going upstairs. Hadn’t she?
She sighed and shook her head. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. The long nights of tossing and turning instead of sleeping were finally catching up to her. And it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. In a few more hours, she had to be fully alert. There were decisions only she could make—lifesaving decisions.
If only she could get a little shut-eye, she’d be able to think clearly. But first, Mother Nature had to quiet down. No one could rest with all this ruckus.
It didn’t ease her nerves being away from home, even if she was staying in a New York City mansion. This place was nothing like her two-bedroom, ranch-style house in Pennsylvania. Though this oversize house contained some of the most breathtaking architecture, there was something missing—the warmth that made a building more than just a place to hang your coat, the coziness that made it home.
In a big city where she barely knew anyone, she and this house had a couple of things in common—being lonely and forgotten. Somehow it seemed like fate that she’d ended up in this deserted mansion. A warm, loving home had somehow always eluded her, and just when she thought she’d made one of her own, it too was about to be snatched out from under her.
Sadness weighed heavily on her as her bare feet moved silently across the kitchen tiles. The coldness raced up through her pink painted toes to her bare legs and sent goose bumps cascading down her arms. Spring may have brought warmer days, but the nights were still chilly. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms, willing away her discomfort. Perhaps her long T-shirt wasn’t the warmest choice for this soggy night, but with her living out of a suitcase, her choices were quite limited.
She yawned and opened the door of the stainless-steel refrigerator. She hadn’t had any appetite until now. With so much riding on this upcoming meeting, she’d ended up with a stress headache for most of the day. But back here ensconced between these quiet, peaceful walls, the pain had loosened its vicelike grip.
Now she needed something to ease her hunger pangs. Other than a few meager groceries she’d placed in there earlier, the glass