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“You’re my boss. I’m your secretary.”
There was triumph in Lucas’s silver eyes as he replied, “You want me, Kim. Your lips and body told me that this morning.”
“Lucas.” Kim glanced around nervously.
“And sooner or later it will happen,” he continued silkily. “You know that as well as I do. That’s why you’ve been so jumpy from the first day you came to work for me….”
HELEN BROOKS lives in Northamptonshire, England, and is married with three children. As she is a committed Christian, busy housewife and mother, her spare time is at a premium, but her hobbies include reading, swimming, gardening and walking her two energetic, inquisitive and very endearing young dogs. Her long-cherished aspiration to write became a reality when she put pen to paper on reaching the age of forty, and sent the result off to Harlequin Mills & Boon.
The Irresistible Tycoon
Helen Brooks
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
‘KIM, I’m not at all sure that this is the right step to take, I’m really not. You’ve enough on your plate as it is; you know that.’
‘I’ve no choice, Maggie, and you know that,’ Kim answered steadily.
‘But…’ Maggie Conway stared helplessly at her friend as she ran out of words.
‘Look, just be an angel and pick up Melody after school, okay? I shouldn’t be much later than five but you know how interviews are; they might keep me waiting for a while.’
‘No problem,’ Maggie said unhappily.
‘Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ Kim said with heartfelt warmth as she gave Maggie a brief hug.
Kim was still thinking about her last words as she left the comfort of Maggie’s spacious, open-plan apartment and stepped into the crisp frosty air outside the big Victorian house which had been converted into several self-contained flats.
Maggie was an unlikely-looking angel, being as round as she was tall with a shock of vibrant curly ginger hair and freckles covering every inch of her skin, but an angel she was nevertheless, Kim told herself silently as she walked briskly to the bus stop. How she would have got through the last two traumatic years without Maggie’s unfailing support and good humour she didn’t know.
She reached the bus stop just as the bus drew round the corner and, once seated, stared unseeingly out of the window, quite oblivious to the overt stare of the young, good-looking man sitting opposite her who clearly couldn’t take his eyes off the golden-haired beauty on the other side of the aisle.
Maggie had stepped in as unpaid childminder when the need arose—as it did frequently—confidante, stalwart friend, advisor and a whole host of other roles, Kim reflected warmly. The only good thing to come out of her relationship with Graham—apart from Melody, of course—was that he had introduced her to Maggie.
Graham… Kim’s soft full mouth tightened and her brown eyes narrowed for a moment before she forced her thoughts away from the spectre in her mind.
This wasn’t the time to think of Graham, not with such an important interview looming, she told herself firmly, straightening in the seat and squaring her slender shoulders. She understood the competition for the post of secretary to the chairman and managing director of Kane Electrical was fierce, and she needed to be focused and clear from the outset.
It was another fifteen minutes before the bus dropped her on the outskirts of Cambridge and almost outside the huge site which Kane Electrical occupied, and within five minutes she was standing in Reception explaining to the model-slim, beautifully coiffured receptionist that she had an appointment with Mr Lucas Kane at half-past two.
‘Right.’ The girl’s expertly made-up eyes had made a swift summing up of the tall, discreetly dressed woman in front of her, and now she gave a practised smile as she said blandly, ‘If you would like to take a seat for a moment I’ll tell Mr Kane’s secretary you’re here, Mrs Allen.’
‘Thank you.’ Kim had flushed slightly under the scrutiny. Her winter coat was a good one, but not new, neither were her shoes and handbag, whereas the receptionist’s expertly cut grey silk suit screamed a designer label and her hair could only have been cut by one of the most expensive salons in Cambridge.
Still, she wasn’t going to let this girl or anyone else intimidate her, Kim told herself fiercely as she took the proffered seat and sank into inches of soft leather upholstery. She might not be wearing the very latest fashion or have her hair styled by Vidal Sassoon but she was an excellent secretary, as her references confirmed.
She raised her small chin abruptly and stared straight ahead, her hands resting in her lap and her knees demurely together, before a restrained commotion at the side of her—as a tall, dark man with what could only be described as an entourage swept into the building—brought her head swinging round.
Whether it was the receptionist’s less than tactful appraisal, or the fact that everyone on the perimeter of the man seemed to be falling over themselves to get his attention, Kim didn’t know, but she found herself staring at the back of the personage in question with unmitigated dislike.
He certainly knew how to make an entrance, she thought waspishly, and he was so full of his own importance he was almost bursting with it! How she disliked the fawning and obsequious servility that went with wealth and power in some quarters.
The party was making for the lifts at the far side of the reception in a subdued furore of which the man leading seemed totally unaware, and Kim still had her eyes fixed on his back, her face expressing her feelings only too clearly, when he suddenly turned and to her shock and surprise looked straight at her.
She was conscious of a pair of rivetingly hard, metallic silver-grey eyes taking in the whole of her in a stunningly swift perusal that was quite devastating before she could wipe her face of all expression, and then she saw dark eyebrows rise in mordant disdain. The message was unmistakable.
He had recognised what she was thinking, recognised it and dismissed it—and her—as beneath his contempt, she thought as her face turned scarlet. And she couldn’t blame him, she really couldn’t.
