Captivated By The Enigmatic Tycoon. Bella Bucannon
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spoiling for a confrontation.
She met his unblinking stare with confidence, regarding the ripples in her stomach as natural under the circumstances. Showing him she wouldn’t be intimidated, she began a slow scroll down his face, noting the high forehead, the wide generous mouth and the strong stubbled jaw. Sculpted biceps and pecs were clearly defined under a fawn work shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and folded at the wrists, revealing tufts of fine brown hair.
Unfortunately, it was her pulse quickening and her temperature rising as her gaze slid over firm blue denim-clad thighs and past long legs to black tradies’ boots. Keeping tight control on the speed, she made the journey up to a gratifying flush and a very masculine scowl.
‘I wasn’t aware she hadn’t told you.’ She heard the hitch in her voice, hoped her features didn’t betray her reaction. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the lounge in a few minutes.’
She walked towards the door, head held high, shoulders rigid.
He moved aside. ‘It will be my pleasure.’ A tone or two deeper than his last remark, with a definite hint of cynicism.
Upstairs, in the bedroom Mel had invited her to use, she slumped against the closed door, shaken by the encounter with her employer’s handyman nephew. The guy wouldn’t be out of place on the pages of the celebrity magazines Narelle, her best friend, avidly studied. She could imagine those full, firm lips...no! She would not.
Cassie had escaped from him to gather her thoughts, and wasn’t sure she’d succeeded even after brushing her hair until it shone. Not for him, she told herself as she went downstairs. Being neat and tidy was a matter of pride.
Her career choice had been a natural progression after assisting the woman she’d called Mum all her life help different friends prepare for the move into retirement villages or homes. At first she’d been fascinated by the variety of, to her teenage eyes, useless items, some not even decorative. There were always old postcards and souvenirs, hardly used presents, and so many photographs in albums, boxes and drawers.
Talking to these people at this crucial moment in their lives, she’d empathised with their anxieties and their pain at having to let go of items that defined their lives. Growing up with no relatives except Mum, she’d found the differences in family interactions intriguing. She’d also discovered she had a talent for sensing the emotional reasons behind the spoken need to cling to certain pieces. The appeal of working in the same building every day, no matter what the job, had diminished in comparison.
* * *
Jack’s baritone was audible as Cassie approached the lounge room door, though the actual words were indistinguishable. Their combined laughter triggered a yearning for the closeness she’d shared for twenty-three years with Julie, her maternal aunt, to her, now and for ever, Mum.
At two days old, her birth mother had brought her to Julie then left for America. She’d made spasmodic short visits while Cassie was very young and occasional telephone calls after. There’d been no contact for fifteen years.
The cancer that had taken Mum four years ago had been short and aggressive, but thankfully there was no heart-wrenching guilt for missed opportunities. Every memory was precious, any reminder, however painful, evoked grateful thanks for the time they’d had.
Hearing Jack’s voice again, she closed her eyes, pressed her open hands to her lips and breathed in and out twice. Channelling her inner strength, she walked in.
Jack’s expression was inscrutable though his lips curled a little as their eyes met. He’d taken the huge armchair in the corner, body at ease, legs stretched out. She’d tried it when they’d had morning tea, felt lost in its size and preferred a corner of the family-sized sofa. Sam, Mel’s medium-size, scruffy mixed breed dog, was curled up on the rug in front of him.
‘Jack’s been enjoying the Queensland sunshine,’ Mel explained as she poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Cassie. ‘He makes it sound very tempting.’
His velvet tongue would tempt the devil into a trip to the Arctic. Cassie bent to select a chocolate biscuit from the long, low table then sat, arching against the big comfortable cushion. Who needed pricy gyms when they bent, stretched and lifted all day? She worked hard and slept soundly.
‘He’s a little testy because I hired you without consulting the family first, Cassie. As if I can’t decide for myself.’
‘Not what I said, Aunt Mel,’ he interrupted, eyebrow quirking. ‘I asked why you’ve hired someone when you’d get all the help you need from us.’
Being fit and healthy, he wouldn’t understand his aunt’s wish to regain independence after relying on her extended family’s care and attention for so long. This was a major step in her rehabilitation.
‘And I appreciate it, dear.’ Her employer grinned at Cassie. ‘I can also detect censure. It’s the Aunt Mel. If he’s really cross I become Great-Aunt Melanie.’
Her affection was so clear Cassie smiled then swung in Jack’s direction as he burst out laughing. It was a rich crackly sound, generating an image of a campfire in the Outback. Bizarre, as she’d never had the experience.
‘Guess who I learnt that from. I knew I was in big trouble whenever you called me Jackson Randell in that quiet, resolute tone guaranteed to have any of us kids confessing every misdemeanour.’
‘Jackson?’ Never ever would Cassie have visualised him with such a distinctive name. All she’d heard and seen—apart from his movie star looks—said regular working guy who’d had normal teenage disputes with his parents. Yet now, as she studied him, she became aware of an innate assurance that tested her ever-present caution. Evidence of well-to-do family and a private education.
‘Only ever used on official documents or by aggrieved mother and aunts.’ His eyes sobered, locked with hers. Straightening up, he put his coffee mug down and leant his elbows on the chair arms. Sam crept forward, laying his head on Jack’s boot.
‘Mel insisted you be present when she explained what’s going on, Cassie.’
Although he pronounced it like everyone else, his timbre as he said her name triggered tingles across her skin. She detected a slight undertone, a hint of warning and was glad Mel spoke first, causing him to turn her way.
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think lately about life, and being dependent on people, Jack. It’s made me realise I’m not as resilient as I’ve always believed. I need to get my home and affairs in order before I become doddery and senile.’
Jack shook his head and chuckled, and the image of a wide plain and starlit sky flared again.
‘Mel Frampton, you’re one of the brightest, sanest people I know, and I’m grateful to be part of the same gene pool. I also have every intention of leading you onto the dance floor at your centenary celebration.’
‘It’s a date. Right now, not being game to access the top floor without help is frustrating. I decided to begin with a cull of my clothes and shoes. Apart from my bedroom walk-in, I have two wardrobes full of garments, most of which no longer fit.’
‘You were never overweight.’ Jack’s forceful exclamation surprised both women.
‘No, but it’s crept on over the years. Not good for an inactive middle-aged woman. Eating more salads and limited baking means I’ve lost some. Now it’s time to get rid of anything that doesn’t suit me or fit comfortably. My accident was a reality check.’
‘Okay, it doesn’t...’
‘Cassie, you explain how it works.’
Gee, thanks, Mel. Now I have to confront him and pretend I’m not affected by his piercing green eyes.
The owner of those disturbing eyes shifted in his chair, aligning his body to hers, his posture challenging. He flexed the fingers of his left hand on his thigh. Convincing his sceptical mind that her employment was the better option required tactful honesty.
It