Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Kept By The Tycoon

      By

      Lee Wilkinson lives with her husband in a three hundred-year old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy travelling and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going round the world ‘on a shoestring’ while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

      Chapter One

      THE physiotherapy room at Mayfair’s exclusive Grizedale Clinic was quiet and peaceful, the only sound the muted background roar of London’s traffic. A deep-pile carpet covered the floor, a vase of crimson roses scented the air and a black leather couch was spread with a spotless sheet ready for its next occupant.

      At the open window muslin curtains lifted in the slight breeze, allowing light to enter but keeping the lingering summer-in-the-city heat at bay.

      Wearing a silky, charcoal-grey suit and an ivory blouse, her long, naturally blonde hair taken up in a coil, Madeleine was sitting at the desk, updating her previous patient’s file, when there was a tap, and the door opened.

      Neat in her blue uniform, dark curls secured in the nape of her neck by a gilt clip, Eve came in with some notes.

      Eve Collins, along with her brother Noel, had been Madeleine’s friend since their nursery-school days.

      It had been Eve who had mentioned this post at the clinic. ‘If you’re interested, Maddy, the woman who usually fills it has taken maternity leave, which means it will only be temporary.

      ‘But I promise you the surroundings are pleasant, and the money’s good, so this might be just what you need to tide you over until you’ve built up a clientele of patients…

      ‘That is, if you don’t mind working four evenings a week throughout the summer months…’

      ‘I don’t mind at all,’ Madeleine had said gratefully, ‘and I’d be glad of both the money and the experience.’

      ‘I’ll mention your name to Mrs Bond, who deals with personnel.’

      On being offered the post, Madeleine had started work immediately. It meant she could no longer see her mother in the evenings, but she had reorganised her daytime routine to fit in visits to the nursing home between her private patients.

      Smiling at her friend, Eve put the notes she was carrying on the desk and, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement, hurried into speech. ‘Your last patient for tonight is a new one, a Rafe Lombard…’

      Then dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘And boy, is he gorgeous! A real hunk, with all the charm of a young Sasha Distel! Tall, dark and handsome may be an overworked phrase, but there’s no other way to describe him.’

      Madeleine sighed and raised her eyes to heaven. ‘The last time you told me someone was gorgeous he turned out to have pimples and dandruff.’

      ‘Scoff if you must, but this time you’ll have to admit I’m not exaggerating. All the female staff are in a tizzy, married and single alike.

      ‘When he smiled at Thelma, who you must admit is a bit of a man-hater, she went weak at the knees and dropped all the papers she was carrying.’

      ‘Well, you’d better send this gorgeous hunk in,’ Madeleine said drily. ‘Otherwise I won’t have time to take a look at him.’

      A moment or so later the latch clicked, and, pushing aside the notes she had just scanned through, Madeleine glanced up.

      The man who entered the room carried with him an air of power, of self-reliance and quiet authority.

      As she looked at this ruggedly handsome, perfect stranger, everything stopped—her breathing, her heart, the blood in her veins…even the world ceased to spin on its axis.

      It was as if she’d always known him. As if she had just been marking time, waiting for him to appear. Waiting for him to fill the void she had been only too aware of, even while she was married to Colin.

      Rather than rushing into speech, as many of her patients did, he stood quite still, his forest-green eyes fixed on her face.

      Dragging air into her lungs, she struggled to pull herself together. Though it seemed an eternity, it could only have been a few seconds before she succeeded in regaining at least some outward semblance of composure.

      His effect on her had been pure and immediate and total, and she knew instinctively that she must stay cool and aloof, or be lost.

      For perhaps the first time she understood fully why every tutor on the physiotherapy courses—apart from Colin—had found it necessary to warn their pupils not to allow themselves to get emotionally involved with any of their patients.

      And, when it came to the crunch, how useless that warning was.

      Drawing another deep, steadying breath, she rose to her feet and, daring her knees to tremble, advanced to meet him, holding out her hand. ‘Mr Lombard, I’m Madeleine Knight…’

      He took her hand in a firm grip and smiled, he looked deep into her eyes and nearly stopped her heart for a second time.

      Her breathing impeded, her throat desert dry, she began, ‘I understand you’ve suffered a possible whiplash injury. When did it happen?’

      ‘Earlier this evening.’

      His voice, low-pitched and slightly husky, shivered along her nerve ends.