Tycoon's Terms of Engagement. Natalie Anderson

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      What he didn’t want was an afternoon of traipsing around while she fed him bubbly tips, trying to close the sale. He wanted to cut to the chase and understand the reality.

      ‘What if I took you somewhere?’ he asked.

      ‘As you’ve insisted on driving, I’d assumed that was happening already. By the way, I’m loving being parked illegally for so long.’

      Suddenly Jack knew exactly what he was going to do. A long drive in a vintage convertible with a beautiful woman beside him was every man’s fantasy, right?

      It wouldn’t be the first time for Jack, but he had the feeling it was going to be the most fun.

      ‘We’re going to be little longer than we scheduled,’ he said unapologetically. ‘But it’ll be worth it.’

      Her polite façade tilted. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer than we initially scheduled.’

      ‘Why not? Is there some place you’ve got to be? Some new restaurant opening?’ He wondered if she’d answer honestly.

      Her smile remained fixed. ‘No, but—’

      ‘There’s no problem, then.’ He didn’t give her time to argue. ‘We can escape.’

      ‘I’ve already told you I don’t need to escape anything in my life.’

      ‘Everyone needs to escape some time.’

      She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. But she didn’t answer. Didn’t lie. She did want to run away—and not really from him. There were things in her life she wanted to escape.

      ‘You want me to buy your blog?’ he asked.

      Her lips parted. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’

      He wasn’t, actually, but it was interesting that she’d leapt to that conclusion. She definitely had thoughts on the darker side.

      ‘All I meant was that we might talk at length about the deal on our drive. I find driving helps me think. And make decisions.’

      She still hesitated.

      He was used to people saying yes. Spoilt, perhaps, but there it was. He was used to asking and receiving. In terms of business and in terms of women. But it was only because of what they could get from him in return. And that wasn’t emotion. It was cash. Or connections. Or both.

      ‘There’s a retreat I have to take a look at.’ He was booked to stay there after his day in the city. He’d bring his stay forward a night.

      ‘A retreat?’ she queried.

      He nodded. ‘It would be a good source of inspiration for your blog. You can take a look around and show me how you’d put it all together online.’

      Truth was the Green Veranda wasn’t right for her blog. Nor was it going into one of the Wolfe travel guides. It was too expensive, and already too exclusive to need it. It catered to a celebrity clientele, or the über-wealthy who didn’t want attention from the general public or any intrusion. Solitude and privacy guaranteed.

      Jack didn’t want that level of isolation and introspection now—not with these two days stretching before him like purgatory. No, he needed distraction.

      And he had it sitting right beside him.

      ‘A retreat as in… like a health spa?’ she asked.

      ‘Sort of. A very expensive private hotel. You can stay the night, yes?’ The idea was growing on him with every second.

      ‘Stay the night?’ she echoed.

      He laughed at the hint of horror in her voice. He’d let her off that hook a little later—for now it was too much fun taking in her reaction. Wickedly amused, he watched her internal war—whether to breathe yes or snap no?

      Her blush deepened as she gazed back at him, her eyes as huge and as brilliant as the sky above them. Spark, heat, defiance, indecision. He swore he could almost hear her pulse racing. His own heart quickened in response.

      In the end he decided to take the burden from her.

      ‘Sure.’ He smiled as he put the car in gear and pulled back into the line of traffic. ‘Because I’m kidnapping you.’

CHAPTER THREE

      JACK WOLFE DIDN’T need either chloroform or charm to get what he wanted—he had cash.

      Because of the possibilities he represented, Stephanie couldn’t refuse him. And now she knew he wasn’t afraid to take advantage of the fact. She also knew he had a wicked streak—an impulsiveness she’d never have expected from the grim-looking man she’d first laid eyes on.

      Stay the night? Never.

      The car sped along the road, taking the quickest route out of the city. The sun beat down on her, addling her brain. Or maybe the sizzling heat was emanating from him. With his tie removed and his shirtsleeves rolled, some of his body was exposed. The muscles in his forearms flexed and she could see the strength in his large hands as he handled the delicate, sometimes temperamental vintage car assuredly.

      He made it look easy, when she knew for a fact that it wasn’t.

      But to indulge in the utter fantasy of being in this dress, in this car, next to him, for an hour or so of illicit escape…

      ‘No choice,’ she muttered.

      A small, wicked smile played on his lips. It seemed he’d taken the brakes off both the car and himself, leaving him relaxed and carefree and so strikingly attractive it was a wonder she could breathe.

      ‘Stephanie…’ he drawled softly. ‘There should always be a choice.’ He glanced her way, a half-question in the back of his blue eyes.

      Stephanie licked her dried lips. She could say no. Could demand that he turn around and take her back to the hotel immediately. If she insisted he’d acquiesce. He wasn’t about to abduct her for real. Not for a whole night.

      But what a choice it was—stay and play along with his whim, or go and kiss goodbye to any chance of the deal happening?

      As she looked at him time stopped. There was that unspoken communication—that intensity that she wanted to run from yet couldn’t break. Fascination. She wanted to be near him for longer. Was this what it was like for her mother when she went headlong into her latest affair?

      Stephanie shivered, almost repulsed by her intense reaction to him.

      When her oxygen-deprived brain decided to reinstate the use of her vocal cords she answered his question with one of her own. ‘Do you know where you’re going?’

      ‘I have a rough idea.’ His wicked smile went on full wattage. He looked outrageously pleased with himself. And devastatingly attractive.

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