Melting The Icy Tycoon. Jan Colley

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СКАЧАТЬ anchor walked out of the studio a few weeks ago had permeated even his awareness. And now that hue and cry had landed virtually in his backyard.

      Conn Bannerman had more reason than most to despise the media. Journalists, reporters, radio jocks—he wasn’t picky when it came to labeling all of New Zealand’s small media circle “scum.” Before he met her, Eve Summers was the only one he might have given the time of day to. Her nightly current-affairs show was about the only time his wide-screen TV flickered into life, unless there was a rugby game on.

      With a quick glance around, he opened the magazine and looked for the contents page and found the article.

      “Burnout…a recent divorce—” He shook his head in disgust. That celebrities felt they must inflict their sad little problems onto anyone who would listen was bad enough. Why must the media also target people who desired nothing more than to keep their private lives private?

      He sensed the customer in front moving and shoved the magazine forward a few inches.

      “The usual, Mr. B.?”

      He nodded at the Business Review beside the till and held out his money. “Born Evangeline”—pretty name, suited her. “Her father dying…no other TV shows in the pipeline…single…” Conn’s eyes skimmed the article, picking out key words. The newsagent took the bill from his outstretched hand.

      With a reluctant last look at the article, Conn closed the magazine, then inexplicably picked it up and laid it on a stack of papers by the till.

      Two minutes later he was boarding the ferry with the magazine folded tightly into his Business Review.

      What just happened here?

      It was his custom to spend the thirty-five-minute ferry ride from the city reading the business newspapers or working, but today the Business Review stayed firmly folded, concealing its shameful secret. Conn had watched the newsagent pick up the magazine and fold it into his paper, incredulous that the man would even think he would buy a women’s magazine. So incredulous that when handed his purchases and change, he could only glare then walk away, feeling ridiculous.

      His embarrassment had faded into the occasional rueful shake of the head by the time the ferry docked and he got into his car and drove home. But it returned full force when the object of his discomfort stood outside his door with her hand on the doorbell. Con turned the engine off and shoved the magazine into his briefcase before stepping out of the car.

      Annoyance mingled with intrigue. He did not like surprises and considered he had wasted enough time thinking about Ms. A-List Summers tonight. But there was no doubt she interested him. Was that because she was famous? Would he be as interested if she was a nobody?

      A quick scan of her body confirmed that he would be. More slender than she appeared on the television screen, but still, she had curves that would turn any man’s head. And she walked as though she knew it. Denim-clad hips swayed as her long legs started toward him and she raised an elegant hand in greeting.

      She looked a hundred percent better than their first meeting. It was nearly dark, and his security light lit up the driveway and picked out the shine of her hair. It was several different shades, one of which clashed spectacularly with her very pink sweater. And she must have found her makeup crew, because the face was just like it was in the cover photo. Flawless skin. Practiced smile.

      A warning flashed through his mind. Just remember, to a newshound, there is no such thing as “off the record.”

      Then she stood in front of him, and his misgivings were obliterated by a most pleasurable and searing rush of desire. It hit him low and hard and snatched away his breath.

      Okay, it had been a while since his last sexual encounter, but he should be able to control his libido better than that. A fourteen-year-old should be able to control his libido better than that.

      Conn thanked heaven for heavy cashmere overcoats.

      “Howdy, neighbor,” she said, with a bright but hesitant smile. She’d dropped her arm to her side, and her palm rubbed her hip, and it occurred to him she was a little nervous. Charming, he thought. Dangerous. Why would a woman who made a living out of meeting people and setting them at ease be nervous?

      “Ms. Summers.”

      “Eve,” she told him, rubbing her hip harder. “I thought we’d give this neighbor thing another try, without the medication this time.”

      

      Eve had felt fully recovered and excited about exploring her new surroundings, and so she’d decided to pay her neighbor a visit, partly to apologize for her lack of manners but also to see if he lived up to the intrigue. Not just his looks, though she’d had several tempting flashbacks featuring his face, but his reasons for wanting to buy her house.

      His house was little more than five minutes’ walk up a gentle incline. It had felt wonderful to stretch her legs after being laid low with flu for weeks.

      His name may have escaped her but, standing in front of him now, she knew her memory hadn’t done justice to such impressive shoulders. He was big. Eve was almost overwhelmed, not only by his size but a physical presence that seemed to invade her space, making her want to step back. Puzzled, she searched his inscrutable expression for a sign of welcome. “Um, it was kind of you to be concerned the other night.”

      He tilted his head to the side, watchful and silent.

      Eve chewed her lip. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t as friendly as I could have been.”

      “You weren’t friendly at all,” he murmured.

      She picked at a seam on her jeans, not sure how to respond. People were generally happy to see her, to converse. She was not one to put any store on celebrity, but this level of detachment toward her was not customary. “O-kay. I apologize for the other night. Can we start again?”

      He rubbed his jaw with large, well-tended fingers.

      “I’m afraid I lost your card. I don’t even know what to call you.”

      “Conn.” He did not extend his hand. “Bannerman.”

      Once again, Eve thought she’d heard that name before.

      “Great place you have here.” She flicked her eyes over the house she had been admiring before he arrived. It was built on the edge of a cliff, far above the ferry terminal. One-storied, a long, low expanse of wood, concrete and glass in a sleek half-moon design. Glass dominated, as it should in this setting. She bet the views would be exceptional from every room.

      “Would you like to come in?”

      She turned back to him, remembering her manners. “I wouldn’t like to impose.”

      He led her into the house through the garage. Eve felt eclipsed by the breadth and length of the hallway, and the way his head made it through the doorway with mere inches to spare. Big man, big house. They walked into a huge kitchen/dining/living area with wall-to-wall windows. The floor was polished timber, magnifying the feeling of space. Neutral colors and the clever use of partitioning walls and differing ceiling heights made it seem as if the areas were separated, but it was, in effect, one massive room. There were no lights on and did not appear to be any drapes or blinds.

      Far СКАЧАТЬ