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A Taste of Sin
Maggie Cox


A Hunger For The Forbidden… Even before he strides into her London shop, billionaire restaurateur Gene Bonnaire’s merciless and seductive reputation precedes him. Antiques dealer Rose Heathcote has encountered men like him before and is determined never to give in to one again!Charismatic Gene always gets what he wants, and what he wants now is Rose’s shop for his new restaurant – and its current alluring owner in his bed! Securing the shop will be easy – Rose can’t deny the benefits of his business offer – but seducing this defiant beauty will be more of a challenge… And Rose stands to be his greatest acquisition yet!SEVEN SEXY SINS – The True Taste of Temptation!Discover More At www.millsandboon.co.uk/maggiecox







Hadn’t Gene already indicated that he was an uncaring playboy … the kind of man who took what he wanted simply because his money and position allowed him to be as mercenary as he liked?

Yet here Rose was, in his isolated sanctuary on a remote Scottish island, miles away from anywhere civilised, and until the boatman met her tomorrow to take her back to the mainland she had to make the best of things. She’d sleep a whole lot better tonight if she didn’t antagonise the man.

Yet, despite all of that, she couldn’t help recalling that crazily unreal moment when her gaze had locked with Gene’s and molten desire had made her feel frighteningly weak. For a shocking instant there had been the urge to abandon all reason and surrender to the wild and wanton nature of it … How was any sane person able to explain such a thing?


Seven Sexy Sins (#u19428906-4da0-5a65-9334-76ff8ae80799)

The true taste of temptation!

From greed to gluttony, lust to envy, these fabulous stories explore what seven sexy sins mean in the twenty-first century!

Whether pride goes before a fall, or wrath leads to a passion that consumes entirely, one thing is certain: the road to true love has never been more enticing!

So you decide:

How can it be a sin when it feels so good?

Sloth—Cathy Williams

Lust—Dani Collins

Pride—Kim Lawrence

Gluttony—Maggie Cox

Greed—Sara Craven

Wrath—Maya Blake

Envy—Annie West

Seven titles by some of Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance’s most treasured and exciting authors!


A Taste of Sin

Maggie Cox




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


MAGGIE COX is passionate about stories that can uplift and transport people out of their daily worries to a more magical place, be they romance novels or fairy tales. What people want most, she believes, is true connection. She feels blessed to be married to a lovely man who never fails to make her laugh, and has two beautiful sons and two much loved grandchildren.


To Karen Middlemiss at the MS Therapy Centre.

Whenever we speak you help me make peace with this condition and remind me that life is for living, whatever our challenge.

With love and blessings, Maggie x


Contents

Cover (#u446a6d0a-32c5-5bb8-a11a-00008f95f43c)

Introduction (#u5a4e52c7-78fb-599f-86ce-96e61caf6148)

Seven Sexy Sins

Title Page (#ud1c6cdf7-1a7b-53ab-95b7-e175824d2c76)

About the Author (#u8af66001-7ec2-5951-b514-f50a87316c22)

Dedication (#u37c8476b-9a9b-5865-86c8-be112f2bd05d)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u19428906-4da0-5a65-9334-76ff8ae80799)

ROSE WAS STANDING by the window, mesmerised by the steady rain that hadn’t let up all morning, when a gleaming black Mercedes drew up in front of the antiques shop and effortlessly glided to a stop.

It was just like a scene from a movie and she was immediately riveted. Inside her chest her heart thumped hard, because she knew it was the visitor she’d nervously been anticipating... Eugene Bonnaire.

Even the name gave her chills. He was one of the country’s wealthiest restaurateurs, with an uncompromising reputation for getting what he wanted, and when Rose’s boss, Philip, had put the beautiful Thames-side antiques shop he owned up for sale the businessman had wasted no time in declaring his interest.

Not for the first time that morning she wished Philip could be there alongside her, but sadly his already failing health had deteriorated and he was now in hospital. In his absence, he had asked Rose to handle the property’s sale on his behalf.

The responsibility was a bittersweet one. Not just because he was ill, and she feared he might not recover, but because she’d nurtured a secret hope to take over the business herself one day. Having spent ten enjoyable years working with Philip, and training as a dealer, she’d honestly grown to love the place. Consequently, she wasn’t predisposed to warming to their potential buyer.

Her first glimpse of the man, after his chauffeur had opened his door and he’d stepped out into the rain, was of a pair of classy Italian brogues, followed by a flawless charcoal suit that was no less than stunningly perfect. Rose caught her breath. As soon as she saw his arrestingly sculpted features, the cut-glass jaw and crystalline blue eyes that were frequently described by the press as ‘unflinchingly piercing’, she had the disturbing sense that she was coming face to face with her greatest fear and—inexplicably—her greatest desire...

She irritably chided herself for the thought. Snapping out of the near trance she’d fallen into watching him, she smoothed her hands down her smart navy dress and made herself walk calmly to the door. It was then she saw that the businessman’s height dwarfed hers.

Lifting her head to gaze up at him, she said, ‘Eugene Bonnaire? Please come in. I’m Mr Houghton’s assistant—Rose Heathcote. I’ve been asked to conduct the meeting with you on Mr Houghton’s behalf.’

The handsome Frenchman stepped inside. Charmingly polite, he shook Rose’s hand with a slight bow of his head and she immediately sensed the reined-in strength he exuded.

‘I am delighted to meet you, Miss Heathcote. But I have to confess I was sorry to hear that your boss has been taken ill. Might I ask how he is?’

Before answering, Rose pulled the door shut behind him and adjusted the sign that hung inside the glass to read ‘closed’. She was glad of the chance to compose herself before she turned round again. Not only had his firm handshake made her far too aware of him as a man, but the deep bass timbre of his arrestingly attractive voice made her skin feel as though he’d brushed it with gossamer. She prayed that the blood that had heatedly rushed into her face didn’t too obviously reveal the fact...

‘I wish I could say he was a little better, but the doctors tell me it’s going to be a while before we see any improvement.’

‘C’est la vie. It is the way of things...but I wish him well.’

‘Thank you. I’ll tell him you said so. Anyway, would you like to come with me into the office, Mr Bonnaire, and we can start our meeting?’

‘Before we discuss anything I would like you to show me round the building, Miss Heathcote. After all, that is the reason I am here.’

Although there was a faultlessly charming smile on his lips to accompany this statement, Rose realised that here was a man who wouldn’t be diverted by small talk, however polite and concerned. Nothing would take precedence over pursuing his goals, and his goal today was clearly deciding whether he wanted to buy the antiques shop or not...

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘It will be my pleasure.’

Rose led him upstairs to one of the three spacious rooms that, although elegantly arranged, were stacked to the rafters with a mixture of antiques and collectables. The air smelled faintly musty because there was a generous amount of furniture on display, although it was tempered somewhat by the scent of beeswax.

While the sound of the rain against the leaded windows made for a cosy ambience it was a little chilly too, and the dress she wore was sleeveless. Wishing she’d collected her cardigan from the office, she briskly rubbed her arms to warm them.

‘The rooms are generously sized, considering it’s such an old building,’ she remarked, ‘which is why we can house so many antiques. I hope you like what you see, Mr Bonnaire.’

Looking faintly amused, her visitor lifted his gaze.

Rose privately attested to spending the most electrifying few seconds of her life as her glance met his. It struck her that she could have chosen her words better. Not in a million years would she invite a man like Eugene Bonnaire to look at her. Did he think that she would? He had a reputation for liking exceptionally beautiful women, and Rose knew she was a long way from being in that particular category.

‘So far...I like what I see very much, Miss Heathcote,’ he answered, not moving his gaze.

Now she really did feel hot and bothered. ‘I’m...I’m glad. Take as much time as you want, looking over things.’

‘Trust me, I will do exactly that.’

‘Good.’

Hastily averting her glance, she crossed her arms over her chest, not wanting to draw any more attention. But it wasn’t long before she found herself surreptitiously observing him as he walked round, his keen-eyed gaze carefully examining the layout and proportions of the room, every so often dropping down into a crouch to examine the durability and condition of the timbered walls and crevices. It was fascinating to watch him stroking his large but slim hands over the wood and occasionally tapping it with his knuckles.

Whilst Rose understood that it was important the man knew what he would be getting for his investment, he didn’t give the impression that the room’s contents interested him at all, and she began to be concerned. Philip had told her it was imperative he sell the business as a going concern, because his poor health meant that he now had to retire, as well as pay for his aftercare when he left the hospital.

He had added sadly, ‘I’m afraid that pensions aren’t worth a light these days...’

The weight of the responsibility she’d taken on in agreeing to make the sale for him hit Rose even harder.

She was still frowning when the preoccupied Frenchman pivoted and remarked, ‘Forgive me, but I saw you shiver a couple of times. Are you cold? Perhaps you’d like to go and get your jacket, Rose?’

Even as he asked another small shiver ran up her spine. But it wasn’t due to the less than comfortable temperature...it was because it had sounded disturbingly intimate when he’d used her name.

Last night, ahead of her interview with him, she had looked up Eugene Bonnaire on the internet, and as well as reading about the numerous plaudits he had earned in his career thus far she had also learned that he could be quite ruthless in his dealings and had an insatiable appetite for success. He was cited as a man who went after the very best of everything, no matter what the cost, and his penchant for stunning women suggested he was quite the playboy.

Rose knew she couldn’t afford to let her guard down round him for an instant. She didn’t want to be persuaded to agree to the sale of the business against her better judgement just because he was so attractive.

Deciding that she couldn’t and wouldn’t let that happen—she knew from bitter experience the danger that men like him could pose—she unwaveringly returned his gaze and said, ‘I think I will go and get my cardigan. If you want to look at the other rooms on this floor, be my guest. I’ll be back in a minute.’

With a polite but inarguably knowing nod, Eugene Bonnaire glanced away.

A short while later she returned upstairs to find that he’d gone into the furthest room at the back. This was where the more valuable items were displayed and where jewellery was housed behind secure custom-made glass cabinets. Much to Rose’s surprise, she found Eugene staring transfixed into one of the cabinets and wondered if she’d misjudged him. Maybe he did admire some of the artefacts and maybe he would buy the business as well as the building?

She couldn’t help but smile as she stepped up beside him, curious to see what he was examining so avidly. When she saw that he was staring at the exquisite pearl and diamond ring from the nineteenth century that was the centrepiece of the display, her curiosity was even more piqued.

‘It’s pretty, isn’t it?’ she commented.

‘Yes, it is. It looks very similar to the ring my father bought my mother when their business first started to take off.’ He was lost in thought for a moment. Then, with a heartfelt sigh, he turned towards her. ‘But the pearls and the diamonds weren’t real. They were just costume jewellery... He couldn’t afford to buy her anything expensive back then.’

There was definitely a glimmer of pain in his eyes as he related this, and Rose found herself warming to him probably more than was wise, because he suddenly seemed oddly vulnerable.

‘I’m sure your mum loved the ring just as much as if it were the genuine article. Surely it’s what it represented, not how much it cost?’ When Eugene failed to comment, and turned back to examine the jewel broodingly, she said softly, ‘You might be interested to know that this ring was given to a girl who was a nurse in the Crimean War by the grateful family of a wounded soldier.’

His crystal blue gaze meandered interestedly across her features. Then he gazed deeply into her eyes. Rose’s mouth went dry as a sun-bleached plain... She was glad she was wearing her navy wool cardigan so he wouldn’t see her shiver again.

‘Every picture tells a story, so they say,’ he mused. ‘No doubt it’s the same for jewellery. But let me ask you this: do you think the nurse who was gifted it was very pretty and the wounded soldier a handsome officer?’

The roguish twinkle that accompanied his question took her by surprise and all but made Rose’s knees buckle. Flooded with heat, she congratulated herself on quickly regaining her equilibrium and not glancing away too soon. Instead, she made herself steadily hold his gaze and her lips curved in a gentle smile.

‘Whether he was handsome or not, shortly after they met he died from his wounds. It’s a terribly sad story, isn’t it? Whether the two of them had feelings for each other we can only wonder, but the giving of the ring was documented in the soldier’s family archives. That’s how we were able to trace its provenance.’

‘I am guessing that you like to imagine the couple did have feelings for each other, Rose.’ Eugene’s expression was suddenly intense.

Feeling strangely as if she was under siege, she shrugged. ‘Why not? Who could begrudge them the little bit of happiness they may have had in the midst of such a terrible situation? But the truth is we’ll never know what really happened.’

What Rose did know was that she had to engineer some space between her and Eugene. She might at one point have felt a chill, but now she was definitely warmer...too warm.

‘If you’ve finished having a look round up here we should go downstairs and have that meeting...don’t you think?’

‘I agree. Perhaps you could make us some coffee?’

‘Of course... How do you take it?’

‘How do you think I might take it, Rose? Humour me.’

If his tactic was to disarm her and lull her into a false sense of security because he’d decided to be playful, Rose couldn’t deny that on another day she might have succumbed to his charm. After all, what woman wouldn’t feel flattered by his exclusive attention? But today she wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Not when she had an important task to fulfil. She had to sell the antiques shop on her boss’s behalf and secure the very best deal she could. Nothing could distract her from that goal.

Leading the way back downstairs, in an attempt to let Eugene see that she wasn’t rattled by his friendly repartee, she breezily threw over her shoulder, ‘Okay, then. I’m guessing you probably like it strong and black. But I’m also guessing you like a couple of spoons of sugar to sweeten it. Am I right?’

‘I’m impressed. But be careful not to assume you know what I like in any other respect, Rose... You might find that you’ve bitten off a little bit more than you can chew.’

Even though she’d heard a smile in his voice, Rose didn’t doubt the comment carried a warning. No man became as successful as Eugene Bonnaire without carefully assessing anyone who might put obstacles in the way of him getting what he wanted...

* * *

When she returned to the office with the tray of coffee she’d made Eugene had his back to her, and she couldn’t help but let her gaze linger for a moment on the impressive breadth of his shoulders. In the better lit room she also saw that his hair was a rich dark brown, with dulled gold lights glinting here and there.

As if that wasn’t enough to capture her attention, the scent of his classy cologne drifted beguilingly on the air and made her insides turn over. With the tip of her tongue she moistened her suddenly dry lips and placed the tray on the gracious Victorian desk in front of him. Then she walked round to the beautifully carved chair that her boss usually occupied.

Coming face to face with Eugene’s features again was not something any woman with a pulse would soon forget... He was chisel-jawed and handsome as a Michelangelo sculpture. But she was perturbed when she saw that his dazzling blue eyes didn’t seem as warm as they had upstairs, when she’d met his gaze over the jewellery cabinet and he’d shared that touching story about the fake pearl and diamond ring his father had bought his mother.

In fact, as they swept over her they brought to mind a once sunlit ocean frozen under ice. A little alarmed, Rose sensed hot colour flooding into her cheeks. Was he assessing the way she looked?

Having never considered herself a beauty, she was painfully disconcerted at being scrutinised by the businessman so penetratingly. Friends had often remarked that her best features were her eyes and her cheekbones, but other than that she knew she was quite ordinary. Disturbed that she should waste even a second fretting over what the man’s opinion of her might be her instinct was to be doubly wary of him.

But the restaurateur’s carved lips curved in another disconcerting smile. ‘Would you like to pour the coffee for us? Then we can proceed. I have a particularly heavy schedule today, and would like to settle our business as quickly as possible.’

‘You sound as though you’ve made a decision?’

‘I have. Having seen the interior of the building, I’d like to make you an offer.’

Straight away Rose noted that he’d said ‘the building’—not the antiques business. Her stomach plunged like a stone.

‘I’d really like to tie up the sale of the property today,’ he added smoothly, bringing his hands together with his long fingers forming a steeple.

His words suggested it was a given that she would agree to the sale. Maybe he didn’t think she could possibly refuse him because she was only standing in for the owner? Perhaps he imagined his wealth and status would intimidate her?

If she was right, then his arrogance beggared belief. Biting her lip, she decided to delay commenting and garner her thoughts.

Reaching for the cafetière, she carefully poured out his coffee. ‘It’s two sugars, isn’t it?’ she checked, aware that his intense gaze was closely surveying everything she did and resenting it mightily.

‘That’s right.’

Passing him the beverage, Rose made a particular point of not meeting his gaze. After pouring her own drink she sat down, but in truth she knew any hopes she might have had of remaining calm throughout the meeting had fled as soon as her glance had encountered the Frenchman’s...

‘Can I just clarify something? You said that you wanted to tie up the sale of “the property” today?’

‘That’s correct’

‘Forgive me, but I thought my boss had made it clear that he wanted to sell the business as a going concern, Mr Bonnaire? You can’t separate it from the property and just purchase the building. Do I take it that you’re not interested in running the antiques shop at all?’

‘That’s right, Rose—but, please, call me Gene. You may or may not know, but I already run a very successful worldwide restaurant business and I’d like to install one of my most prestigious restaurants here. The location is perfect. And, although I do also have other successful businesses, to be frank with you I’m afraid that antiques don’t interest me in the slightest. I’m sure you must have learned from your boss that people just aren’t as interested in them these days as they used to be. Anyone in business wants to make money. No interest in the product, equals no profit. Isn’t that the reason why he wants to sell?’

Rose felt as if her face had suddenly been seared by an iron. She was both embarrassed and furious. ‘You don’t have to be so brutal—’

‘Business is brutal, ma chère...make no mistake about that.’

‘Well, Philip is selling because he’s ill and no longer has the energy to run the business. This antiques shop has always been his pride and joy, and if he was well I can assure you it wouldn’t be up for sale at all.’

It was Gene’s turn to sigh. ‘But I’m guessing the fact is, due to his poor health, he’s decided to take the opportunity to make as much money as he can on his asset while he is still in a position to do so. Is that not so?’

She flushed again, and twisted her hands in her lap to still their trembling. She couldn’t make a proper decision about anything if her emotions got in the way. But Gene, as he seemed to prefer being called, had guessed right. Because of his failing health Philip needed to make this sale. But she knew that he’d fervently hoped to sell the business along with the building, and if Rose didn’t manage to do that for him then she would have failed the man who was not just her boss and mentor, but who had been her father’s dearest friend...

She came to the only decision that could possibly be right. Now calmer, she met the Frenchman’s gaze across the desk. ‘It’s true that Mr Houghton needs to make this sale, Mr Bonnaire—Gene—but, since you’ve just admitted that antiques don’t interest you in the slightest, and that you’re not interested in running the business and only want the building, I’m afraid I can’t agree to sell it to you. It just wouldn’t be right. I realise it’s not the decision you hoped for, but I’m sorry. I hope you understand?’

‘No. I do not understand. I have told you that it’s the building I’m interested in and I’m willing to pay what I know to be the going rate for the property...no question. How many interested buyers has your boss seen since he put the shop up for sale?’

Gene Bonnaire’s glare was steely.

‘In the current economic climate my guess is not many... Maybe I’m the only one? If I were you, Rose, I would take my offer on your employer’s behalf and congratulate yourself. Trust me...the only regret he would have is if you should be foolish enough to turn me down. Do you really want to put yourself in such an untenable position and lose the faith and trust he has obviously accorded you?’

As a helpless tide of defensive anger surged through her Rose set her eyes on the man she now considered to be not quite so charming. He might not be as heartless as she’d first thought—the story about the fake pearl and diamond ring his father had bought his mother demonstrated that he had the capacity to feel things deeply—but she knew that he was determined to secure the desirable Thames-side building at all costs. And he was plainly willing to risk Rose not liking him if he became too insistent.

‘I think you’ve said quite enough, Mr Bonnaire. I’ve given you my decision and you’re just going to have to accept it.’

‘Is that so? Do you imagine that any businessman or woman worth their salt who is determined to seal a deal should give up so easily merely because you tell them that they should?’

His tone was sardonic, and Gene’s glance swept over Rose as if she was a foolish little girl.

Swallowing down her fury that anybody could be so reprehensible, she stiffly folded her arms. ‘I wouldn’t dream of advising anyone what’s best for them, because I clearly don’t know. I’m not a businesswoman...I’m an antiques dealer. However, I do know my boss Philip, and how much this antiques business means to him. He’s impressed upon me more than once that he wants to sell it as a going concern, so I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t adhere to that. On his behalf, I thank you for your interest but our meeting is over. I’ll see you to the door.’

‘Not so fast.’

As he rose immediately to his feet it wasn’t hard for Rose to detect that Gene Bonnaire was more than a little thrown off balance by her refusal to sell. He was holding on to his temper by a thread.

The expensive cologne he wore again stirred the air, reminding her that the moneyed and elite world he inhabited was light years away from hers and that he hadn’t expected an argument. But on this occasion, Rose was determined to stand her ground...

‘Look, I didn’t come here to waste my time or yours,’ he went on. ‘I came here for one reason and one reason only: to purchase a listed building that I understood was up for sale. If you won’t sell the premises to me then perhaps you’d reconsider your decision if I agree to purchase the antiques as well? I don’t doubt some of them might be valuable to an ardent collector.’

The comment was hardly encouraging. He might just as well have referred to the collector as misguided rather than ardent. Rose didn’t have to guess how appalled Philip would be if he knew that Gene didn’t want to purchase the antiques for their beauty and historical significance, or even because he might be considering continuing the business after all, but only because he was thinking about their monetary worth.

‘Indeed, some of them are extremely valuable,’ she confirmed. ‘But unfortunately your remark illustrates to me exactly what you asserted earlier...you have no interest whatsoever in antiques. That being the case, I’m not inclined to consider your offer any further, Mr Bonnaire.’

Extracting a leather wallet from the inside pocket of the impeccably tailored jacket he wore, the businessman took out a card and threw it down onto the desk. The blue eyes that Rose had noted could be icy had turned even more glacial.

‘When you’ve had some time to think things over—meaning when you can make a far less emotional decision about the matter, Rose—I don’t doubt you’ll want to get in touch with me to discuss a sale. In the meantime, I’ll say au revoir.’

As he spoke Rose found herself yet again uncomfortably captured by his mocking glance, and she thanked her lucky stars that the man was going. Yet as her gaze followed him to the door in truth she didn’t know whether or not to be pleased she’d stood her ground—whether the decision she’d made was the right one or not...

* * *

Back in his Mayfair office, after the tedious round of meetings he’d chaired that afternoon, Gene asked his secretary to get him some coffee and sank down into his high-backed leather chair to mull over the day’s events. He didn’t think he had ever felt more irritable and out of sorts, and it was all down to his offer being refused on that damn property.

He’d admired the architecture of the Thames-side building for years, and had often thought it would make the most fantastic restaurant should he buy it. He didn’t envisage it as an addition to the more commercial restaurants he already owned, but saw it as the kind of exclusive place that the glitterati liked to frequent. Just like the two esteemed establishments he owned in New York and Paris.

Recalling his meeting with Rose Heathcote, Gene mused that it was beyond his understanding how she couldn’t see what a gold-edged opportunity to capitalise on his assets he had given her boss. Most people would have ripped his arm off to take it. But one thing had become eminently clear to him... Just as she had said, Rose was no businesswoman. Her attitude had really irked him. Especially when he’d seen that she wasn’t going to be easily influenced by any amount of charm he might utilise. Yet part of him admired the brunette for her determination to stand firm even though he knew she was wrong.

And there was something else about her that had caught his attention. She hadthe most startlingly beautiful violet eyes. Her glossy black hair and ivory-coloured skin made them even more captivating. The passion he’d seen in their mesmerising depths had intrigued him and made him want to get to know her, even though she’d denied him the chance to purchase the property. But, as was his modus operandi when faced with situations or outcomes he didn’t like, Gene knew he would immediately work to turn it to his advantage.

Yes...he would step right back into the breach and make his purchase of the building a foregone conclusion. He wouldn’t be satisfied until it was his. Rose could take a couple of days’ sober reflection on what a mistake she’d made in turning him down, then Gene would get back to her with an offer that he knew her boss simply couldn’t refuse.

If he could have some more time with her and assure her that he was respectful of the gracious building’s admirable history, had always admired it and only sought to elevate it by housing his restaurant there, he didn’t doubt he could persuade her to convince Philip Houghton that selling the building to one of the country’s richest entrepreneurs wasn’t just a good idea...it was the only one that would take it off his hands and make him enough money to see him right for the rest of his life.

But just then, somewhere deep inside him, Gene couldn’t help feeling disturbed that he’d so easily dismissed the other man’s welfare in the belief that money was the answer to his problems. Even his parents had counselled him on that once.

‘Son, you can’t always fix someone’s pain by throwing money at the problem. No amount of money or good fortune made it any easier for us to endure the devastation of your sister’s death. Don’t forget that.’

The memory jolted him, and for a few disturbing seconds he felt as if a grenade had been thrown into the room. But now wasn’t the time to reflect on how much his sister’s death had nearly broken him...

He squared his shoulders. He and his parents saw life very differently. Gene saw practical solutions to adversity while they succumbed to their emotions and allowed their feelings to dictate how they responded... The idea of behaving in the same way was anathema to him. He’d heard his parents’ stories about their poor upbringings, how their own parents and siblings had suffered terribly when there hadn’t been the means to put food on the table or to have adequate heat and light, and how many nights they had gone to bed hungry... From a tender age he’d intuited how essential it was to have money, and as he’d grown older, having discovered that he had a talent for making it with ease, he wasn’t about to relinquish it—not for anyone.

Pleased that he’d come up with a plan to help him win the beautiful old property—a plan he was convinced would work because he never, never entertained the possibility of failure—Gene got to his feet, straightened his tie and strode out through the door.

Stopping at the desk of his blonde, statuesque secretary, Simone, whose cousin was an up-and-coming Parisian designer—and frankly that was why he’d given her the job...because it always paid to utilise his assets—he flashed her a warmer smile than usual and said, ‘Forget the coffee, ma chère, and book me a table for dinner at my club for eight o’clock.’

‘Will you be taking a guest with you, Mr Bonnaire?’

‘No, Simone. Not tonight.’

‘Then I will ring the maître d’ straight away and arrange for you to have your favourite table.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You are most welcome. It always makes me glad when I can do something to please you and make your life a little easier.’

The woman’s glossy pink lips curved in a smile that was definitely inviting.

Gene’s fleetingly good mood instantly vanished. Scowling, he said, ‘In that case you won’t mind doing some overtime tonight, will you? I’ve left a “to do” list on my desk for you. Goodnight, Simone. I will see you in the morning.’

He was more irritated than usual with the blonde’s obsequious manner. She hadn’t been working for him for very long, but he didn’t need to be a genius to know that she was only too aware of how to use her best assets...especially as she clearly thought it was only a matter of time before he would bed her... Just yesterday he had overheard her stating the fact, not very discreetly, to someone on her mobile.

Waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive, he muttered savagely beneath his breath, ‘God save me from predatory women!’


CHAPTER TWO (#u19428906-4da0-5a65-9334-76ff8ae80799)

LONG AFTER HER MEETING, and still stinging from her encounter with the mercurial force of nature that was Gene Bonnaire, Rose couldn’t help but be interested in what drove the man to be the way he was. He clearly hadn’t liked her decision not to sell the shop to him. Her refusal had really grated on him, because he obviously wasn’t used to being denied when he’d set his sights on something that he wanted.

Knowing that he was a restaurateur, and that he wanted the building for one of his establishments, that night she went home and did some more research.

Rose discovered that Gene was one of the richest men in Europe and had made his fortune by turning a once small French restaurant in East London called Mangez Bien into a well-known chain that had spread across the globe. The original restaurant had been owned by Gene’s parents. They were both French immigrants, who’d settled in London when they were young and had turned their love of cooking and food into owning a much loved eatery that had been patronised by a devoted local clientele.

By the time their son had turned seventeen, so the story went, he was already a fine chef whose ambitions far exceeded his parents’ own. He had progressed from being Head Chef at one of London’s finest hotels to becoming an astute entrepreneur who had started to establish restaurants of his own. But as he’d begun to build an empire of affordable French restaurants he had also acquired a reputation for being quite ruthless in his business dealings.

Rose already knew he didn’t like being denied...

Leaning back in her chair, she studied the photograph that her computer had helpfully supplied. It had been taken at a prestigious awards ceremony in LA, and even though the picture of him couldn’t help but be flattering, to her mind it didn’t depict any pleasure at his being at the event, nor at having received an award. Instead, the man’s immense dissatisfaction was clear. It emanated from Gene’s steely blue eyes in forbidding icy waves...

He doesn’t look even remotely pleased, she mused. And he was probably even less pleased since she’d turned down his offer.

The headline of the article onscreen read, The man who has everything once again strikes gold.

‘Hmph,’ Rose muttered out loud. ‘That doesn’t mean that any of what he’s got makes him happy. Something must be bugging him...something he doesn’t like to talk about.’

Was it anything to do with his father not being able to afford a real diamond and pearl ring for his mother in the early days when they were starting to establish their business? Why else had he told Rose that it was only costume jewellery? Had it made him feel insecure? She remembered the flicker of pain that had accompanied his remark. But surely he wasn’t still burdened by the memory? Was he sad that once upon a time his parents had struggled...that not everything had been as easy for them as it had for their son?

Wearily dragging her fingers through her pixie cut short hair, she sighed. Why was Gene Bonnaire at the forefront of her thoughts when she still had to face her boss and tell him that she’d turned down the Frenchman’s offer?

She would have done anything to spare him the disappointment and distress the news would undoubtedly bring him, and could only hope he would see that her motivation had been to do what was right by him. After all, he’d been there for her when her father had passed away, staying by his bedside with Rose until he breathed his last breath... The last thing he needed now, when he was so ill, was to be put under pressure to sell the antiques shop to someone who didn’t have the first idea about what it meant to him...

Switching off her computer, she stood up and stretched. Annoyed that she’d wasted even more time thinking about Gene Bonnaire, she went into her living room to collect the book she’d been reading. It was a hefty tome all about the Aztecs, with a fascinating chapter on the magnificent jewellery worn by the emperors. There had recently been a momentous find in northern Mexico, and straight away it had fuelled Rose’s interest. She’d have loved to go and see the treasure that the archaeologists had uncovered, but she’d have to wait until it finally went on display in a prestigious gallery or museum.

Going to bed, she fell asleep with the book on her chest and dreamt disturbingly of an Aztec emperor who uncannily resembled Gene Bonnaire...

* * *

Just like an addict, desperate to buy his next fix, Gene sat in the café across the street from the antiques store and couldn’t turn his mind to anything else other than fulfilling his desire to own the gracious building he was staring at... The coffee he’d ordered had long gone cold as he restlessly contemplated going in and demanding that Rose Heathcote came to her senses and accepted the offer he’d made.

It had been three days since their meeting, and no phone call had been forthcoming to tell him that she’d had second thoughts. Maybe her boss had had a better offer from someone else? The very idea made him feel nauseous. He wanted that building as much as he wanted his next breath, and he deplored the notion that he might not get it.

Glancing down at his Rolex, he saw that he’d been sitting in the café for nigh on half an hour, hoping to catch Rose unawares. Catching someone off-guard often paid dividends, he’d found. If he’d seen her then he would have asked her out to dinner, so that they could talk amicably outside of work and get to know each other a little better. If he was able to get her to trust him then he didn’t doubt he could persuade her to sell the building to him.

But she hadn’t stepped outside even once, and in truth he was taking an unnecessary risk, sitting in the café in front of the window. Any minute now the paparazzi might turn up—and that really would ruin his day, because they were frequently on a mission to expose him as ruthless and uncaring...

Even in the early days, when he’d started to have some success, he’d realised there were more people in the world who were jealous of his achievements rather than pleased. More to the point, they were jealous of his wealth... Knowing that, he knew the press was more than eager to take him down a peg or two—no doubt so that their readers could feel a bit better about their own lives.

Suddenly impatient, he glanced upwards at the now darkening skies. Any moment now it would start to rain. He shouldn’t waste any more time sitting there, waiting for inspiration to dawn about what he should do. He’d never been someone who waited for opportunity to strike. Gene made his own opportunities.

His gaze settled on the old building again. The name of the shop was The Hidden Diamond, and to be honest he thought it a little trite. After all, he reasoned, if it was hidden then what use was it to anybody? Diamonds should be displayed to denote their owner’s wealth...not hidden away.

With a jaundiced sigh he got to his feet. The promised rain began to splatter the pavement. He was done with waiting. He was going into the shop to present Rose with a more persuasive offer. If she really cared so much about helping her boss then she ought to be relieved he was giving her a second bite of the cherry...

* * *

Rose was finishing up her bookwork when she heard the doorbell chime. Hurriedly toeing on her maroon leather flats, she tucked her cream silk blouse more securely into the waistband of her smart black skirt and left the office to deal with what she assumed was a late customer.

She should have closed up shop half an hour ago, but she’d been so immersed in cataloguing the dwindling monthly sales and wishing they were better that she hadn’t noticed the time.

Her lips automatically curved into a smile, but the gesture immediately melted away when she saw that her late caller wasn’t the customer she’d envisaged but Gene Bonnaire. She stared. What was he doing here? Forgoing a suit, he was dressed casually today, in jeans and a dove-grey T-shirt beneath a tailored black jacket. But he was no less formidable. It was raining outside, she saw, and the shoulders of his jacket glistened with moisture—as did his hair.

‘Do you usually stay open this late?’ he asked, clearly opting to dispense with any social niceties.

Tensing, Rose found herself caught in the crystalline spotlight of his disquieting blue gaze. ‘Not usually no. But I was busy doing some bookwork and didn’t notice the time. What can I do for you, Mr Bonnaire? If you were hoping to persuade me to change my mind about your offer then I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want you to waste your time.’

‘Don’t be sorry. Just let me have a few minutes with you to talk things over.’

‘To what end?’

‘Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you?’

Rose arched an eyebrow. ‘Like I said, I gave you my decision and I see no reason in discussing it any further.’ When Gene scowled she got the distinct impression that he was having considerable trouble remaining calm. His next words confirmed it.

‘You really have no idea about business, do you, Rose? I’d like to know why your boss, Philip Houghton, has such faith in you... Perhaps you’d enlighten me?’

Now Rose had trouble holding on to her own temper, and she had no hesitation in replying passionately, ‘Because I care about him—that’s why! I have no ulterior motive other than that I want what’s best for him. And what’s best for him is to sell the antiques business as a going concern, to someone who will love it as much as he does.’

‘That’s a nice thought...but hardly a realistic one.’

‘Did you come here just to tell me how inept you think I am, Mr Bonnaire?’ Incensed, she folded her arms. ‘Because if it makes you feel any better, then you should know that I’ve had sleepless nights about the whole thing. It would be very easy to take your offer to my boss and tell him that he’d be lucky to get another one half as good—remind him that the antiques trade isn’t what it used to be and he should just take what he can while the going’s good. But I couldn’t be so cruel. Not when I know how much the business means to him. If he was just interested in selling a beautiful period building in a very desirable area then he would have done so. But he wants the business to continue... What do you think he’d say if I accepted your offer and then told him you weren’t remotely interested in antiques?’

Gene looked thoughtful. Then he smiled. ‘I think he’d probably feel that he can’t be sentimental about it. At the end of the day, if he believes that his poor health will prohibit his return to work, no doubt he will need the money to help pay for his care. Surely that’s the priority here?’

What he said made perfect sense and, suddenly unsure, Rose felt tears of frustration surge into her eyes.

Gene all but covered the distance between them in less than a couple of strides, and as before the air stirred hypnotically with the exotic scent of his expensive cologne.

‘You’re upset. Is there anything I can do? Why don’t we go into the office and I’ll get you a cup of tea?’

‘I don’t want tea. All I want is... All I want is for you to go away!’ Her outburst sounded embarrassingly childish even to her own ears... So much for keeping her composure. Rose wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.

But the man in front of her didn’t go away. He didn’t even look remotely put out. The dazzling blue eyes that she knew could turn forbiddingly cold when he was angry were now inexplicably warm...tender, even. He lifted his hand to touch her arm gently. Her heart thudded quietly as she felt his smooth skin brush against her own.

‘Your boss gave you a tough job when he asked you to sell the business for him, Rose—perhaps too tough. I don’t mean this as a criticism, but I can see that it’s not where your skills lie... I’ve already learned that it’s the job you love—being with the artefacts and learning about their history. More than that, you like discovering the personal stories behind them. You’re a people person, Rose...not a businesswoman.’

She realised the man had an almost uncanny knack of knowing what a person was about. But she didn’t want to let him see even for a second that his astute insight perturbed her. Surely Gene Bonnaire had enough advantages without her giving him any more...namely the fact that she could so easily warm to him, when everything in her told her it would be a mistake that would undoubtedly cost her dear...

‘That might be the case, and I know my forte isn’t in the world of business—I told you that before. But my love of antiques and understanding what they mean to people also makes me understand why my boss, Philip, wants to sell the business as a going concern. I think it means even more to him since he’s become ill. He’s taught me so much about the trade, and that’s why I want to get the best deal for him.’

‘That’s also why you should give me a little bit more of your time and listen to what I have to say, Rose.’

‘Why? Are you going to tell me that you’ve decided to take on the business after all?’

Gene was already shaking his head. ‘No. I’m sorry I have to disappoint you, but I won’t be getting involved in that side of things. I haven’t changed my mind about that.’

‘Then how can I possibly be interested in listening any more to what you have to say, Mr Bonnaire?’

‘If you’d do me the courtesy of having dinner with me tonight, I’ll explain.’

Even as she guessed that most women would be surprised and pleased by such an invitation—not to mention immensely flattered—Rose defiantly lifted her chin to indicate that she wasn’t one of them. ‘Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline.’

‘You have a previous engagement?’

‘No, but—’

‘You don’t want to hear what I have to say, even though it might be to your boss’s advantage?’

‘How can it possibly be to his advantage? You’ve already said that you’re not interested in the business...that you only want the building.’

Gene Bonnaire’s steely-eyed gaze didn’t waver for so much as a second as he examined her, and it was easy to guess he’d hoped to have the upper hand.

‘Like I said, Rose... Have dinner with me tonight and all will be explained.’

Prickling with unease, she sensed herself flush heatedly. ‘You’re just playing games—and I don’t trust men who play games. If you have something to say that you know for a fact my boss will be interested in, then why don’t you just come right out and say it?’

‘Very well, then, although I’m sad that you won’t agree to dinner, and just to reassure you, Rose, I’m not playing games. It’s just that it has been my experience that all the best deals are made over a cordon bleu meal and a fine bottle of wine.’

One corner of the handsome Frenchman’s mouth lifted in a smile that would make most women—young, old and in between—ache to be close to him in the most intimate way... And even though Rose was quite aware that he was using his charm to get what he wanted, she was hardly immune to the idea.

‘Is that right? Well, I’m afraid that’s not been my experience.’

‘So you won’t even take a risk and try it?’

Unable to glance away from his mesmerising gaze, she felt her breath hitch. ‘No...I won’t...’

But even as she refused a look of heated longing drifted across his irises and she sensed her resistance indisputably melting. Underneath their polite words, somehow a much more sensual conversation was taking place. Rose couldn’t deny it. That impossibly irresistible look of Gene Bonnaire’s was captivating her, stirring her own longing into life, and right then all she wanted to do was to fulfil it...

Gene moved to stand in front of her, his mesmerising blue eyes smouldering like simmering fires... In the next instant the businessman had firmly caught hold of her arm and pulled her against his chest.

Rose’s blood pumped hard. All she could do was helplessly stare back at him. It was undeniable that he excited her, but his sheer physical presence disturbed her too. It only took a glance to see how supremely fit and strong he was.

Low-voiced, he murmured, ‘God forgive me, but...’

The time that elapsed between his words and his next action was brief...too brief for her to stop him.

His urgent, initially demanding kiss stole her breath and made her sink against the hard wall of his chest. Her senses were utterly besieged by him. And as his hot silken mouth moved over hers and became more and more seductive Rose didn’t have the faintest inclination to end the passionate caress.

Then somehow it filtered through to her fogged brain just how dangerous her compliant actions were and she came hurtling back to her senses. Shocked and shaken, she freed herself from the Frenchman’s embrace and wiped her hand over her already aching lips.

Staring back at him, she declared, ‘Your arrogance, Mr Bonnaire, has to be seen to be believed! I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but I think you’d better just leave.’

Her heart pumped even harder. The heat from his body and his velvet mouth had seared her indelibly, and she already knew she wasn’t easily going to forget it.

‘I didn’t intend to kiss you, Rose, but somehow the desire overwhelmed me. I am as disturbed by it as you are. I apologise. If you really won’t come to dinner with me then I can do no more than tell you about the amended deal I have come up with.’

He paused, as if to take a moment to straighten his thoughts. There was a slight crimson tint beneath his tan that bore out his declaration that desire had overwhelmed him. Rose didn’t know what to make of it herself. She was just an ordinary girl, and he was—he was a living, breathing Adonis...

‘I already know how much getting the best deal for your boss means to you, and I have spent quite some time thinking about how I can make that a reality for you both. This is my new offer.’

His hand dived into the inside pocket of his jacket and he drew out a slim sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he handed it to Rose.

Her jaw all but hit the floor when she saw how much he was prepared to pay for the privilege of owning the building. His initial offer had practically doubled. For dizzying moments she was literally lost for words.

‘This amount of money can be a real life-changer for Philip, Rose. That being the case, why on earth would you turn down the opportunity to help make things better for him? If you were to persuade him to see the sense in selling to me, then I’m sure he would be nothing but relieved. If he accepted my offer then he would have the worry of the business off his hands and earn himself a more than healthy profit. No doubt you would be happy too, Rose, because his ill health would undoubtedly be restored and, last but not least, I don’t deny I would be pleased, because I’d get the property I’ve long desired.’

‘And the name of the game is always that you get what you want, isn’t it, Mr Bonnaire? There’s nothing altruistic about this scenario, is there? You don’t give a fig about my employer’s health, or whether I’m happy or not happy. Why should you? You know nothing about us! You’ve seen something you want and you’ll do anything...pay any price...to get it. Isn’t that how people like you operate?’

To Rose’s consternation, he chuckled. It was a rich, gravelly sound that sent shivers running up and down her spine.

‘Touché...you’ve got it in one. You’re a bright woman...’

‘Don’t patronise me!’

Sighing, he folded his arms over his chest and studied her. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I’d much rather have you on my side than make you my enemy, Rose. By the way, your eyes are an incredible colour... I don’t doubt you’ve been told that many times before. What’s the shade? I’d say they were violet...’

Rose was hardly prepared for his remarks suddenly to become personal, even though he’d so passionately kissed her, and for several disturbing seconds it threw her. She could hardly think, let alone come back with a retort to put him in his place.

‘The colour of my eyes is neither here nor there. This conversation is completely futile. Now, I really need to close the shop and you have to go.’

‘Not yet. You haven’t told me what you intend to do.’

‘What do you mean?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you going to talk to your boss about accepting my new offer?’

Rose was still holding the piece of paper he’d given her and she carefully folded it and slipped it into her skirt pocket.

Returning her gaze to his, she said, ‘I’ll show him what you’re offering—of course I will—but if you’re asking if I’ll try and persuade him to take it, then, no...I won’t. Philip makes his own decisions—always has and always will. I neither have nor want any influence over him.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Dropping his hands to his hips, Gene smiled. ‘I can sense that you’re a sensitive woman, Rose. I’m sure that Philip must appreciate that. If he knows that you care about his feelings then I’m sure he must respect any opinions you have about the matter and know that you have his best interests at heart.’

‘Even so, it would feel wrong for me to persuade him to just sell the building, and some of the antiques, when he dearly wants to sell the business as a going concern.’

‘But surely he must know by now that his beloved business clearly isn’t viable any more?’

‘Do you think I want to tell him that? When I know it’s been his life’s work and he’s lying ill in hospital?’

‘You would find a way to put it compassionately, I’m sure. You obviously care about him very much.’

‘I do...’

‘Then he is a lucky man.’

‘I’m the lucky one. If he hadn’t taken me on and taught me the trade I’d never have found the work that I’ve grown to love.’

‘I’m sure he must have found it a pleasure to teach you, Rose. What sentient man wouldn’t? Not only does he get a beautiful woman with captivating violet eyes and patrician cheekbones to work for him, but she becomes quite devoted to him too.’

Rose sensed her cheeks flush red. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Philip isn’t attracted to me, if that’s what you’re implying, and neither am I to him. For goodness’ sake—he’s an elderly man, past retirement age!’

Gene was instantly apologetic. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve caused offence. I thought he must be middle-aged, but I didn’t realise he was elderly. I’m afraid I confess I was a little jealous when I heard you talk about him in such glowing terms.’

Dry-mouthed, Rose hardly knew what to say. The way he’d complimented her looks just now was unbearably seductive, and saying that he’d been jealous of her admiration for Philip was crazy. Coming from a man who could have any woman he wanted, it was plainly ridiculous.

Realising that for a dangerous moment she’d been more flattered than she should, Rose gritted her teeth. Gene Bonnaire was even more of a threat than she’d thought...

‘Look...I think you’d better just go. I mean it. I’ll be in touch if I get any news from Mr Houghton for you.’

For a surreal moment Gene honestly forgot what he was about—because he suddenly found himself even more mesmerised by the brunette. Those violet eyes of hers were strangely bewitching, and he’d fallen into a bit of dream staring back at them.

He’d known when he kissed her that he wanted to seduce her...it was just a matter of when...but his sudden fierce attraction was honestly a revelation—because Rose Heathcote certainly wasn’t the usual type of woman he was attracted to. She was not blonde, statuesque or shapely. She was small and slender, with black hair cut boyishly short. Yet the passionate spark in her eyes that he’d just witnessed, along with her feisty nature and her determination to protect her boss at all costs, made her surprisingly alluring.

It was another first, because Gene usually liked his women to be more compliant. He liked to be the one in control.

Quickly returning to his senses, he realised he was just going to have to bide his time and wait for Rose to speak to her boss.

Moving across to the door, he glanced out at the now teeming rain and then back at the diminutive brunette. ‘All right, then. I won’t press you any further. But tell me... Is there anything I can do for you, Rose? Does someone as generous as you are, with your regard for others, ever have her kindness reciprocated? For instance I’d be very interested to know if you have a personal heartfelt desire. If you do, then all you have to do is say the word and I’ll do my utmost to help you get it.’

‘Why would you want to do that? I suspect it’s because you have some devious ulterior motive...’

Gene laid his hand over his heart and grinned. ‘You wound me deeply.’

‘If you could give me my “heartfelt desire” then you’d be much more than a mere man. Has it never occurred to you that not all heartfelt desires are material ones?’ Rose challenged him.

He shrugged. ‘I can’t say I spend much time thinking about it. I prefer to deal with the tangible, not the abstract.’

‘So in your world feelings are abstract, are they?’

‘Why don’t you have dinner with me and we can talk about it?’

She grimaced. ‘I’d rather have dinner with a boa constrictor! At least I’d know for sure what I’d be dealing with.’

In spite of his disappointment that Rose didn’t seem to believe he might just want to give her something that pleased her, and at not immediately strengthening his chances to buy the property, Gene found her answer undeniably amusing. To his surprise, he also found it indisputably seductive...

‘I can’t say I’m flattered, Rose, but that’s funny!’

‘You should stop calling me Rose. It’s Miss Heathcote to you.’

Gene smiled. ‘I can see that I’ve really got to you, haven’t I? All right, then—I’ll go. But you haven’t heard the last of me...not by a long chalk...Rose...’

He opened the door and, with a resigned grimace, walked out into the rain.

* * *

The phone rang in the early hours of the morning and a brisk-sounding nurse from the hospital informed Rose that Philip had taken a turn for the worse and asked if she could she please come in. Feeling numb with fear, she dragged on her jeans, T-shirt and Mackintosh and practically flew out the door.

When she got to the hospital and was directed to a ward she drew in a deep breath as she saw him. White-faced and fragile, he was lying in bed breathing through an oxygen mask and wired up to the kind of medical paraphernalia that told her this was serious.

All her worst fears crashed in on her at the same time. It hadn’t escaped her notice that her boss had been transferred to the same ward that her father had been in when he died. He’d had a fatal coronary whilst in hospital for investigation into something relatively minor, so it had come as the most terrible shock. Was this how Philip was destined to leave her as well? Rose could hardly bear the thought.

The doctor on call had diagnosed pneumonia and he told her that it was crucial they stabilised the condition and that he got plenty of rest. To that end they would be keeping him in longer than they’d first envisaged, and would be treating him with antibiotics and extra oxygen.

As she sat by his bedside holding his hand, Philip opened his eyes just once, to acknowledge that he knew she was there, and she gently assured him that everything was going to be all right, that he wasn’t to worry. But even as she said the words Rose didn’t entirely believe them. Suddenly the man who had been such a firm friend to her and her father looked worryingly old and haggard...and very, very ill.

Having tried so hard to hold back the tears during her visit, as soon as she got home she threw herself onto the couch and the floodgates opened.

* * *

They weren’t the last tears she cried over the testing week that followed. One day Philip was rallying encouragingly, looking a little better, and the next it seemed he was worse. Managing the shop as well as talking to an array of healthcare professionals about his aftercare, Rose was on a rollercoaster of emotion that one moment had her feeling hopeful for his full recovery and the next fearing the unthinkable...

She had all but forgotten her recent encounter with Gene Bonnaire. But one evening after work when she visited the hospital Philip told her he wanted to discuss something important. She had an uneasy feeling that the billionaire’s offer to buy the antiques shop was on his mind. A couple of days earlier she had shown him Gene’s offer. She wasright. He clearly hadn’t felt ready to discuss it then, but he did now.

‘Rose...I want you to contact Mr Bonnaire and tell him that I’m going to agree to the sale.’

There was a flash of what looked to be deep regret in his pale blue eyes, and his expression was apologetic.

‘I’m disappointed that he doesn’t want to buy the business and that it won’t continue as I’d hoped, but in my present situation beggars can’t be choosers. Seeing as I haven’t had any other offers, and I’m advised I’m going to be housebound for quite some time after this, I’ll need to pay for private care. As you know, I don’t have any family, but at least I have some material assets that I can realise to help me—the main one being the antiques shop. The man’s offer for the building coupled with the antiques is more generous than I could have hoped for. He left me his card, didn’t he? Can you contact him and arrange a meeting?’

Fighting to regain her composure at the idea that she was going to have to talk to the Frenchman again, Rose replied ‘I’ll do whatever you want me to do to help, Philip, but surely you can’t meet with him to discuss things until you get out of hospital?’

Once more he was apologetic. ‘I’m afraid I can’t risk waiting that long. I need to sell the place as quickly as I can to free up some money for my care. I’m asking you to handle the sale for me, Rose. I’ve contacted my solicitor and he’ll draw up the necessary papers. This is his name and number.’

He opened the bedside drawer, took out a single sheet of vellum that he’d written on and handed it to her.

‘Anything you need to know, he’ll explain.’

‘It seems that you’ve made up your mind, then.’ Frowning, Rose felt her muscles clench tight at the idea of once again coming face to face with Gene Bonnaire and knowing that this time he would be the one who had the advantage and would undoubtedly use it for all he was worth...

‘Yes, my dear...I have.’

‘Then I’ll see to things right away. In the meantime you should try and rest as much as possible. The last thing you need is to be stressed about anything.’

Smiling fondly, Philip patted her hand as it lay on the counterpane. ‘I should have told you this before, Rose... I don’t know how I would have managed these past ten years without you. Without question, your loyalty, friendship and hard work have been invaluable and if I had been a much younger man I don’t doubt I would have fallen a little bit in love with you.’

Feeling her cheeks glow warmly, Rose smiled back—even as she remembered Gene Bonnaire’s ridiculous implication that her relationship with her boss might not be just a working one. What she’d give to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his handsome face when next she saw him! Only she couldn’t. She had to be nice to him because Philip urgently needed this sale. The last thing she would do was jeopardise things just because the man had rattled her.

But then, as she recalled that he’d asked her if other people ever reciprocated her kindness to them, she knew that the man had much more sensitivity than his very public persona suggested and thought that it would be intriguing to discover more...

‘It’s sweet of you to say so,’ she answered Philip, ‘but to be frank I think I’m destined to stay single. I’ve only been in love once in my life and it wasn’t the happiest of experiences. I’m not eager to do it again.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Don’t you believe that it might be different the next time? Not so painful, I mean?’

‘No, I don’t. I don’t because—present company not included—I don’t trust men. I think I’d be better off on my own.’ She shrugged. ‘Besides, I’m far too independent, and men sense that. It would take someone pretty exceptional to get me to change my mind and I haven’t yet met anyone who fits that particular bill.’

‘Not yet, you haven’t, Rose, but you will...you will.’

With a knowing smile, the man in the hospital bed closed his eyes and, leaving him to doze, she folded the sheet of notepaper he’d given her, slipped it into her bag and discreetly left...




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