The Tycoon And I. Kandy Shepherd
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hand over fist due to bureaucratic red tape that had him cutting his trip short. He put a stop to his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to contemplate the devastating situation he’d faced before catching his cross-country flight home.
And the last thing he needed was to return home to find a half-dressed woman making herself comfortable in his house. The image of her bare legs teased his mind, clouding his thoughts.
He cursed under his breath and pulled on the first pair of jeans he laid his hands on. But if he was going to stay focused, his beautiful interloper needed to cover up. He grabbed a heavy robe that should modestly cover her and give him some peace of mind. With a T-shirt in hand for himself, he rushed back to the kitchen clutching both articles of clothing.
“Here.” He held out the robe to her. “Put this on.”
Her wary gaze moved to his outstretched hand and back. It was then that he got a close-up view of her heart-shaped face and button nose. His thoughts screeched to a halt when he spied the dark shadows beneath her eyes. Sympathy welled up inside his chest. Not so long ago, he’d worn a similar look. It hadn’t happened by missing a night or two of sleep. In fact, it’d been the worst time of his life. His gut told him that Kate had a devastating story of her own.
He’d always been good at reading people. It was what helped him run Carrington Gems and hire a reliable staff. So why had he immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion about Kate?
Had his experience with his ex-wife jaded him so badly that he wasn’t even willing to give this woman the benefit of the doubt? Or was it the fact she was standing in this house—a place so filled with pain and loss?
Kate’s cold fingertips brushed over the back of his hand as she accepted the robe. His instinct was to take her hands in his and rub them until they were warm. But he resisted the temptation. She wasn’t his guest...his responsibility.
While she slipped on the robe, he stepped back, giving her some space. He pulled the shirt over his head. Now they could have a reasonable conversation.
Fully clothed, he glanced up, finding Kate’s brows furrowed as she stared at him. He followed her line of vision to a large hole in his jeans above his knee as well as the army of white smudges marking up both legs. He really should consider tossing them, but they were just so comfortable. Wait. Why should he care what this woman thought of him or his clothes? After tonight he’d never see her again.
Kate shoved up the sleeves on the robe and crossed her arms. “What do you propose we do?”
In any other situation, he’d show her to the door and wish her well. After all, she wasn’t his problem. And being drawn in by her very kissable lips and the memory of how that threadbare shirt hugged her curves was a complication in his life that he just didn’t need.
But her pale face with those dark smudges beneath her eyes dug at his resolve.
And he couldn’t dismiss the fact his aunt had sent Kate to stay here. Not that his aunt didn’t help people on a daily basis, but she knew this house was off-limits to everyone. That meant Kate was someone special. Now he really needed to speak to his aunt, but first he had to make things clear to Kate.
“There’s something you should know. This is my house.”
KATE EYED UP Mr. Oh-So-Sexy’s faded T-shirt and threadbare denim. Even her ratty old jeans were in better condition. Did she look gullible enough to swallow his story that he was the owner of this mansion? That would make him wealthy. Very wealthy. And he sure didn’t look the part.
“Why should I believe you own this house?”
He frowned. “Because I’m Lucas Carrington. Connie’s nephew.”
His unwavering tone gave her pause. She studied his aristocratic nose, piercing blue eyes and sensual lips. The wheels in her mind began to spin. No wonder he seemed so familiar. During her many hours at the hospital, she’d ended up thumbing through one magazine after the other. It was within one of those stylish periodicals that she’d skimmed over an article listing this year’s most eligible bachelors.
Lucas Carrington had been named Bachelor of the Year. And he had been by far the steamiest candidate on the list. And that had been before she’d garnered a glimpse of his ripped abs. Her mouth grew dry at the memory. She instantly squashed the thought.
The reality of the situation at last sunk in. That man—the hunk from the popular magazine—was standing in front of her in his bare feet. And she was accusing him of being an intruder. This had to be some sort of crazy, mixed-up dream.
“I see my name has rung a bell.” Smugness reflected in his captivating eyes. “Perhaps my aunt mentioned me.”
The fact he’d been holding that ace up his sleeve the whole time instead of introducing himself up front annoyed her. She wasn’t about to fold her hand so quickly—even if she had been beaten already.
She conjured up her best poker face. “Actually, Connie went to great pains not to mention you. She merely said the owner was out of town for an extended period. In fact, when I saw the condition of this place, I didn’t think anyone had lived here in years.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek as his gaze moved away. “I only need a couple of the rooms. Even when I’m in town, I’m not here much.”
“I see.” What else could she say? That it was a bit strange to live in a mansion filled with cobwebs and covered in a blanket of dust? But who was she to judge? She was living out of a suitcase, and by the end of the month, she would be technically homeless. The thought of being adrift with no place to call home sent her stomach plummeting. But she could only deal with one problem at a time.
Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “Why do you keep looking at me strangely?”
“I’m trying to decide whether I should believe you. I mean, I wouldn’t expect such a wealthy man to wear...umm, that.” She pointed at his tattered jeans.
Even though she knew that he was in fact Lucas Carrington, she didn’t want to let on just yet. After all, he hadn’t readily taken her word that she wasn’t a squatter. Why not let him see what it was like not to be believed?
He shrugged. “So they’re old jeans. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I don’t know. This could all be an act. How am I to know that you aren’t pretending to be the owner? Maybe I should call the police and let them sort this out.”
Instead of the angry response she’d been anticipating, the corners of his mouth lifted. Was that a smile? Her stomach somersaulted.
“I guess I deserve that. Wait here.” He set off in the same direction he’d gone to grab his clothes and the robe he’d loaned her.
The scorching hot image of him in those boxer shorts flashed in her mind. Her pulse kicked up a notch or two. If Lucas wasn’t already wealthy, he could make a fortune as an underwear model. She’d be first in line to buy the magazine.
Still a bit chilled, she snuggled up in the robe, noticing the fresh scent of aftershave. She lifted the plush material to her nose, unable to resist inhaling even deeper. Mmm...
“Is the robe okay?” His smooth, deep voice filled the room.
“Umm...yes.” She smoothed the lapel. “I was just admiring its...its softness.”
He nodded, but she wondered if he’d caught her getting high off his very masculine scent. No man had a right to smell that good or look that hot with his clothes on...or off.
He skirted around the kitchen island and headed for her. Kate held her ground, all the while wondering what he was up to.
“Here.” He flipped open a black wallet. “This should clear things up.”
Her fingers slid across the worn