Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

‘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.

Those clear green eyes lingering on her face, he added, ‘Since then I’ve had some discomfort. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but I was advised to see a physiotherapist just in case there was any muscle damage.’

In spite of all her efforts her voice wasn’t quite steady as she asked, ‘How did it happen?’

‘I was taking my racing car round a private circuit when the steering went.’ Drily, he added, ‘Straw bales can seem remarkably solid at speed.’

He was still watching her and that steady appraisal threw her far more than any of her previous male patients’ attempts at flirtation.

‘If you could strip to the waist and get up on the couch so I can check it out, please?’ She tried to sound cool and professional, in control.

While Madeleine kept her eyes fixed firmly on his notes he took off his jacket and shirt and draped them over a chair, before hitching himself up to sit on the couch.

Only when he was settled did she look up.

His back was straight and muscular, the line of his spine elegant, as the broad shoulders tapered to a lean waist and narrow hips. His clear, tanned skin carried the glow of health and gleamed like oiled silk, making her want to touch it.

Even the back of his well-shaped head was attractive and sexy, the short dark hair curling a little into the nape of his neck.

Taking a deep breath, she went over to him and, concentrating fiercely on her professional task, with firm but gentle hands began her examination.

Though he must have been well aware of his effect on women, he made no suggestive remarks, nor did he try to chat her up. Instead he sat quietly, obediently raising his arms and flexing his muscles when asked to.

As soon as she had finished the examination, she said briskly, ‘Right, Mr Lombard…’ and moved away to a safer distance.

As he swung his feet to the floor she confirmed, ‘Though there’s some obvious stiffness in the neck and shoulder muscles, luckily there’s no evidence of any real damage. In a few days, if all goes well, you should be back to normal.’

‘That’s great.’ He smiled at her, his smile a white slash across his tanned face.

She watched as his lean cheeks creased, and a fan of fine laughter lines appeared at the corners of those fascinating almond-shaped eyes. Eyes that tilted up at the outer corners. Eyes that would have made even the most ordinary face appear extraordinary. And his face was far from ordinary…

Dragging her gaze away with an effort, and trying to ignore the way his smile had sent her pulses racing madly, she went on, ‘Rest is all it needs until after the weekend. Then I suggest you have a further check just to be on the safe side.’

Looking directly into the clear aquamarine eyes of this cool, fascinating woman, who seemed totally unaware of her own beauty, he asked, ‘So when shall I see you again?’

His intent gaze and the question, phrased as it was, shook her rigid.

But seeing him again, even in a professional capacity, would be far too dangerous. It would be courting disaster.

The clinic’s policy was that a strict protocol should be observed between staff and clients, and, faced with soaring costs at the nursing home, she couldn’t afford to lose this job.

‘Perhaps you’d like to come in again on Monday or Tuesday morning?’

He shook his head. ‘Evening would suit me better.’

Biting her bottom lip, she made a pretence of studying her appointments before she suggested evenly, ‘In that case, suppose you make it Monday evening at the same time?’

Mrs Deering, the plump, middle-aged and happily married part-timer who worked weekends and Monday evenings, could hopefully help him without any threat to her peace of mind or her position.

‘That suits me fine.’

‘Then I’ll say goodnight, Mr Lombard.’

‘Au revoir, Miss Knight. Many thanks.’ He strode to the door and made his way out.

Some element of vitality went with him, and she was left feeling, life goes that way.

With a hollow emptiness in the pit of her stomach she sank down at her desk and, with the image of his dark, attractive face filling her mind, started to update his notes.

The notes finished, she was sitting there gazing into space when the door opened and Eve came back in. ‘I wondered if you were still here…Almost everyone else has gone.’

With nothing to look forward to but a solitary supper, there had been no incentive for Madeleine to hurry home.

‘So what did you think of Rafe Lombard?’

‘He was every bit as gorgeous as you said,’ Madeleine answered as lightly as possible.