A Taste of Sin. Maggie Cox
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Rose hardly knew what to say. The way he’d complimented her looks just now was unbearably seductive, and saying that he’d been jealous of her admiration for Philip was crazy. Coming from a man who could have any woman he wanted, it was plainly ridiculous.
Realising that for a dangerous moment she’d been more flattered than she should, Rose gritted her teeth. Gene Bonnaire was even more of a threat than she’d thought...
‘Look...I think you’d better just go. I mean it. I’ll be in touch if I get any news from Mr Houghton for you.’
For a surreal moment Gene honestly forgot what he was about—because he suddenly found himself even more mesmerised by the brunette. Those violet eyes of hers were strangely bewitching, and he’d fallen into a bit of dream staring back at them.
He’d known when he kissed her that he wanted to seduce her...it was just a matter of when...but his sudden fierce attraction was honestly a revelation—because Rose Heathcote certainly wasn’t the usual type of woman he was attracted to. She was not blonde, statuesque or shapely. She was small and slender, with black hair cut boyishly short. Yet the passionate spark in her eyes that he’d just witnessed, along with her feisty nature and her determination to protect her boss at all costs, made her surprisingly alluring.
It was another first, because Gene usually liked his women to be more compliant. He liked to be the one in control.
Quickly returning to his senses, he realised he was just going to have to bide his time and wait for Rose to speak to her boss.
Moving across to the door, he glanced out at the now teeming rain and then back at the diminutive brunette. ‘All right, then. I won’t press you any further. But tell me... Is there anything I can do for you, Rose? Does someone as generous as you are, with your regard for others, ever have her kindness reciprocated? For instance I’d be very interested to know if you have a personal heartfelt desire. If you do, then all you have to do is say the word and I’ll do my utmost to help you get it.’
‘Why would you want to do that? I suspect it’s because you have some devious ulterior motive...’
Gene laid his hand over his heart and grinned. ‘You wound me deeply.’
‘If you could give me my “heartfelt desire” then you’d be much more than a mere man. Has it never occurred to you that not all heartfelt desires are material ones?’ Rose challenged him.
He shrugged. ‘I can’t say I spend much time thinking about it. I prefer to deal with the tangible, not the abstract.’
‘So in your world feelings are abstract, are they?’
‘Why don’t you have dinner with me and we can talk about it?’
She grimaced. ‘I’d rather have dinner with a boa constrictor! At least I’d know for sure what I’d be dealing with.’
In spite of his disappointment that Rose didn’t seem to believe he might just want to give her something that pleased her, and at not immediately strengthening his chances to buy the property, Gene found her answer undeniably amusing. To his surprise, he also found it indisputably seductive...
‘I can’t say I’m flattered, Rose, but that’s funny!’
‘You should stop calling me Rose. It’s Miss Heathcote to you.’
Gene smiled. ‘I can see that I’ve really got to you, haven’t I? All right, then—I’ll go. But you haven’t heard the last of me...not by a long chalk...Rose...’
He opened the door and, with a resigned grimace, walked out into the rain.
* * *
The phone rang in the early hours of the morning and a brisk-sounding nurse from the hospital informed Rose that Philip had taken a turn for the worse and asked if she could she please come in. Feeling numb with fear, she dragged on her jeans, T-shirt and Mackintosh and practically flew out the door.
When she got to the hospital and was directed to a ward she drew in a deep breath as she saw him. White-faced and fragile, he was lying in bed breathing through an oxygen mask and wired up to the kind of medical paraphernalia that told her this was serious.
All her worst fears crashed in on her at the same time. It hadn’t escaped her notice that her boss had been transferred to the same ward that her father had been in when he died. He’d had a fatal coronary whilst in hospital for investigation into something relatively minor, so it had come as the most terrible shock. Was this how Philip was destined to leave her as well? Rose could hardly bear the thought.
The doctor on call had diagnosed pneumonia and he told her that it was crucial they stabilised the condition and that he got plenty of rest. To that end they would be keeping him in longer than they’d first envisaged, and would be treating him with antibiotics and extra oxygen.
As she sat by his bedside holding his hand, Philip opened his eyes just once, to acknowledge that he knew she was there, and she gently assured him that everything was going to be all right, that he wasn’t to worry. But even as she said the words Rose didn’t entirely believe them. Suddenly the man who had been such a firm friend to her and her father looked worryingly old and haggard...and very, very ill.
Having tried so hard to hold back the tears during her visit, as soon as she got home she threw herself onto the couch and the floodgates opened.
* * *
They weren’t the last tears she cried over the testing week that followed. One day Philip was rallying encouragingly, looking a little better, and the next it seemed he was worse. Managing the shop as well as talking to an array of healthcare professionals about his aftercare, Rose was on a rollercoaster of emotion that one moment had her feeling hopeful for his full recovery and the next fearing the unthinkable...
She had all but forgotten her recent encounter with Gene Bonnaire. But one evening after work when she visited the hospital Philip told her he wanted to discuss something important. She had an uneasy feeling that the billionaire’s offer to buy the antiques shop was on his mind. A couple of days earlier she had shown him Gene’s offer. She was right. He clearly hadn’t felt ready to discuss it then, but he did now.
‘Rose...I want you to contact Mr Bonnaire and tell him that I’m going to agree to the sale.’
There was a flash of what looked to be deep regret in his pale blue eyes, and his expression was apologetic.
‘I’m disappointed that he doesn’t want to buy the business and that it won’t continue as I’d hoped, but in my present situation beggars can’t be choosers. Seeing as I haven’t had any other offers, and I’m advised I’m going to be housebound for quite some time after this, I’ll need to pay for private care. As you know, I don’t have any family, but at least I have some material assets that I can realise to help me—the main one being the antiques shop. The man’s offer for the building coupled with the antiques is more generous than I could have hoped for. He left me his card, didn’t he? Can you contact him and arrange a meeting?’
Fighting to regain her composure at the idea that she was going to have to talk to the Frenchman again, Rose replied ‘I’ll do whatever you want me to do to help, Philip, but surely you can’t meet with him to discuss things until you get out of hospital?’
Once more he was apologetic. ‘I’m afraid I can’t risk waiting that long. I need to sell the place as quickly as I can to free up some money for my care. I’m asking you to handle the sale for me, Rose. I’ve contacted my solicitor and he’ll draw up the necessary papers. This is his name and number.’
He opened the bedside drawer, took out a single sheet of vellum that he’d written on and handed it to her.
‘Anything you need to know, he’ll explain.’
‘It seems that you’ve made up your mind, then.’ Frowning, Rose felt her muscles clench tight at the idea of once again coming face to face with Gene Bonnaire