Tycoon's Forbidden Cinderella Read online

  Audrey rubbed at the creepy-crawly sensation running along her arms. ‘It’ll be good for me. Exposure therapy.’

  ‘Ri-i-ight.’ Lucien shrugged and approached the spider with the glass and the card.

  Audrey covered her face with her hands but then peeped through the gaps in her splayed fingers. There was only so much exposure she would deal with at any one time.

  Lucien slipped the card beneath the spider and then placed the glass over it. ‘Voila. One captured spider. Alive.’ He walked to the front door of the cottage and then, dashing through the pelting rain, placed the spider under the shelter of the garden shed a small distance away.

  He came back, sidestepping puddles and keeping his head down against the driving rain. Audrey grabbed a towel from the downstairs bathroom and handed it to him. He rubbed it roughly over his hair.

  She was insanely jealous of the towel. She had towel envy. Who knew such a thing existed? She wanted to run her fingers through that thick, dark, damp hair. She wanted to run her hands across his scalp and pull his head down so his mouth could cover hers. She wanted to see if his firm mouth would soften against hers or grow hard and insistent with passion.

  She wanted. Wanted. Wanted the one thing she wasn’t supposed to want.

  Lucien scrunched up the towel in one hand and pushed back his hair with the other. ‘This storm looks like it’s not going to end anytime soon.’

  Just like the storm of need in her body.

  What was it about Lucien that made her feel so turned on? No other man triggered this crazy out-of-character reaction in her. She didn’t fantasise about other men. She didn’t stare at them and wonder what it would be like to kiss them. She didn’t ache to feel their hands on her body. But Lucien Fox had always made her feel this way. It was the bane of her life that he was the only man she was attracted to. She couldn’t walk past him without wanting to touch him. She couldn’t be in the same room—the same country—without wanting him.

  What was wrong with her?

  She didn’t even like him as a person. He was too formal and stiff. He rarely smiled. He thought she was silly and irresponsible like her mother. Not that her two tipsy episodes had helped in that regard, but still. She had always hated her mother’s weddings ever since she’d gone to the first one as a four-year-old.

  By the time Sibella married Lucien’s father for the first time, Audrey was eighteen. A couple of glasses of champagne—well, it might have been three or four, but she couldn’t remember—had helped her cope reasonably well with the torture of watching her mother marry yet another unsuitable man. Audrey would be the one to pick up the pieces when it all came to a messy and excruciatingly public end.

  Why couldn’t she get through a simple wedding reception or two or three without lusting over Lucien?

  Another boom of thunder sounded so close by it made the whole cottage shudder. Audrey winced. ‘Gosh. That was close.’

  Lucien looked down at her. ‘You’re not scared of storms?’

  ‘No. I love them. I particularly love watching them down here, coming across the fields.’

  He twitched one of the curtains aside. ‘Where did you park your car? I didn’t see it when I drove in.’

  ‘Under the biggest oak tree,’ Audrey said. ‘I didn’t want it to be easy to see in case the press followed me.’

  ‘Did you see anyone following you?’

  ‘No, but there were recent tyre tracks on the driveway—I thought they were Mum and Harlan’s.’

  ‘The caretaker’s, perhaps?’

  Audrey lifted her eyebrows. ‘Does this place look like it’s been taken care of recently?’

  ‘Good point.’

  Another flash of lightning split the sky, closely followed by a boom of thunder and then the unmistakable sound of a tree crashing down and limbs and branches splintering on metal.

  ‘Which tree did you say you parked under?’ Lucien asked.

  Audrey’s stomach lurched like a limousine on loose gravel. ‘No. No. No. Noooooo!’

  CHAPTER TWO

  LUCIEN HAD TO stop Audrey from dashing outside to check out the state of her car by restraining her with a firm hand on her forearm. ‘No. Don’t go out there. It’s too dangerous. There are still limbs and branches coming down.’

  ‘But I have to see how much damage there is,’ she said, wide-eyed.

  ‘Wait until the storm passes. There could be power lines down or anything out there.’

  She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth, her expression so woebegone it made something in his chest shift. He suddenly realised he was still holding her by the arm and removed his hand, surreptitiously opening and closing his fingers to stop the tingling sensation.

  He usually avoided touching her.

  He avoided her—period.

  From the moment he’d met her at his father’s first wedding to her mother he’d been keen to keep his distance. Audrey had only been eighteen and a young eighteen at that. Her crush on him had been mildly flattering but unwelcome. He’d shut her down with a stern lecture and hoped she would ignore him on the rare occasions their paths crossed.

  He’d felt enormous relief when his father had divorced her mother because he hadn’t cared for Sibella’s influence on his father. But then three years later they’d remarried and his path intersected with Audrey’s again. Then twenty-one and not looking much less like the innocent schoolgirl she’d been three years before, she’d made another advance on him at their parents’ second wedding. He’d cut her down with a look and hoped she’d finally get the message...even though a small part of him had been tempted to indulge in a little flirtation with her. He had wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to hold her luscious body against his and let nature do the rest. Sure he had. He had been damn close to doing it too. Way too close. Dangerously close.

  But he’d ruthlessly shut down that part of himself because the last thing he wanted was to get involved with Audrey Merrington. Not just because of who her mother was but because Audrey was the cutesy homespun type who wanted the husband, the house, the hearth, the hound and the happy-ever-after.

  He wasn’t against marriage but he had in mind a certain type of marriage to a certain type of woman some time in the future. In the distant future. He would never marry for passion the way his father did. He would never marry for any other reason than convenience and companionship. And he would always be in control of his emotions.

  Audrey rubbed at her arm as if she too was removing the sensation of his touch. ‘I suppose you’re going to give me a lecture about the stupidity of parking my car under an old tree. But the storm had barely started when I arrived.’

  ‘It’s an easy mistake to make,’ Lucien said.

  ‘Not for someone as perfect as you.’ She followed up the comment with a scowl.

  He was the last person who would describe himself as perfect. If he was so damn perfect then what the hell was he doing glancing at her mouth all the time? But something about Audrey’s mouth had always tempted his gaze. It was soft and full and shaped in a perfect Cupid’s bow.

  He wondered how many men had enjoyed those soft, ripe lips. He wondered how many lovers she’d shared her body with and if that innocent Bambi-eyed thing she had going on was just a front. She wasn’t traffic-stoppingly beautiful like her mother but she was pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way. Her figure was curvy rather than slim and she had an old-fashioned air about her that was in stark contrast to her mother’s out-there-and-up-for-anything personality.

  ‘Once the storm has passed I’ll check the damage to your car,’ Lucien said. ‘But for now I think we’d better formulate a plan. When was the last time you spoke to your mother?’

  ‘Not for a week or more.’ Her tone had a wounded quality—disappointment wrapped around each word as if her relationship with her mother wasn’t all that it could be. ‘She left the inv
itation and a note at my flat. I found them when I got home from work yesterday. I got the feeling she was coming here with your dad from her note when she mentioned the daffodils. I’m not sure why she didn’t text me instead. I’ve texted her since but I’ve heard nothing back and it looks like my messages haven’t been read.’

  Frustration snapped at his nerves, taut with tension. What if his father had already married Sibella? What if there was a repeat of the last two divorces with the salacious scandal played out in the press for weeks on end? He had to put a stop to it. He had to. ‘They could be anywhere by now.’

  ‘When did you last speak to your father?’

  ‘About two months ago.’

  Audrey’s smooth brow wrinkled. ‘You don’t keep in more regular contact?’

  Lucien’s top lip curled before he could stop it. ‘He’s never quite got used to the idea of having a son.’

  A look of empathy passed over her features. ‘He had you when he was very young, didn’t he?’

  ‘Eighteen,’ Lucien said. ‘I didn’t meet him until I was ten years old. My mother thought it was safer to keep me away from him given his hard-partying lifestyle.’

  Not as if that had changed much over the years, which was another good reason to keep his father from remarrying Audrey’s mother. They encouraged each other’s bad habits. His dad would never beat the battle of the booze with Sibella by his side. The battle became a binge with a drinking buddy when Sibella was around. She had no idea of the notion of drinking in moderation. Nothing Sibella Merrington did was in moderation.

  ‘At least you finally met him,’ Audrey said, looking away.

  ‘You haven’t met yours?’

  ‘No. Even my mum doesn’t know who it is.’

  Why did that not surprise him? ‘Does it bother you?’

  She gave a little shrug, still not meeting his gaze. ‘Not particularly.’

  He could tell it bothered her much more than she let on. He suddenly realised how difficult it must have been for her with only one parent and an incompetent one at that. At least he’d had his mother up until he was seventeen, when she’d died of an aneurysm. How had Audrey navigated all the potholes of childhood and adolescence without a reliable and responsible parent by her side? Sibella was still a relatively young woman, which meant she must have been not much older than Lucien’s father when she’d had Audrey.

  Why hadn’t he asked her how it had been for her before now?

  ‘How old was your mother when she had you?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ Her mouth became a little downturned. ‘She hates me telling anyone that. I think she’d prefer it if I told everyone I was her younger sister. She won’t allow me to call her Mum when anyone else is around. But I guess you’ve already noticed that.’

  ‘I have, but then, I don’t call my father Dad, either.’

  ‘Because he prefers you not to?’

  ‘Because I prefer not to.’

  She considered him for a long moment, her chocolate-brown gaze slightly puzzled. ‘If you’re not close to him then why do you care if he remarries my mother or not?’

  Good question. ‘He’s not much of a father but he’s the only one I’ve got,’ Lucien said. ‘And I can’t bear to see him go through another financially crippling divorce.’

  Resentment shone in her gaze. ‘Are you implying my mother asked for more than she deserved?’

  ‘I’m now his accountant as well as his son,’ Lucien said. ‘Another divorce would ruin him. I’ve been propping him up financially for years. It won’t just be his money he’ll be losing—it will be mine.’

  Her eyebrows rose as if the notion of his generosity towards his father surprised her. ‘Oh... I didn’t realise.’ She chewed at her lip a couple of times. ‘In spite of my mother’s success as a soap star, she never seems to have enough money for bills. She blames her manager and he blames her.’

  ‘Do you help her out?’

  ‘No...not often.’

  ‘How often?’

  Her left eye twitched and then she suddenly cocked her head like a little bird. ‘Listen. The storm’s stopped.’

  Lucien pulled back the lace curtain and checked the weather. The storm had moved further down the valley and the rain had all but ceased. ‘I’ll go and check out the damage. Wait here.’

  ‘Stop ordering me about like I’m a child.’ Her voice had a sharp edge that reminded him of a Sunday School teacher he’d had once. ‘I’m coming with you. After all, it’s my car.’

  ‘Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s still a car and not a mangled piece of useless metal.’

  * * *

  Audrey looked at the mangled piece of useless metal that used to be her car. There was no way she would be driving anywhere in that anytime soon, if ever. Half the tree had come down on top of it and crushed it like a piece of paper. At least her insurance was up to date...or was it? Her chest seized in panic. Had she paid the bill or left it until she sorted out her mother’s more pressing final notice bills?

  Lucien whistled through his teeth, his gaze trained on the wreckage. ‘Just as well you weren’t sitting in there when that limb came down.’ He glanced at her. ‘Is your insurance up to date?’

  Audrey disguised a swallow. ‘Yes...’

  His gaze narrowed. ‘Your left eye is twitching again.’

  She blinked. ‘No, it’s not.’

  He came up close and brushed a fingertip below her eye. ‘There. You did it again.’

  ‘That’s because you’re touching me.’

  His finger moved down the slope of her cheek to settle beneath her chin, elevating it so her gaze had to meet his. ‘There was a time—two times—when you begged me to touch you.’

  Audrey’s cheeks felt hot enough to dry up all the puddles on the ground. ‘I’m not begging you to touch me now.’

  His eyes searched between each of hers in a back and forth motion that made her heart pick up its pace. ‘Are you not?’ His voice was low and deep and caused a shiver to ripple down her spine like a ribbon running away from its spool.

  His eyes were so dark a blue she could barely make out the inkblot of his pupils. She could feel his body heat emanating from his fingertip beneath her chin right throughout her body as if he were transferring sexual energy from his body to hers. Pulses of lust contracted deep in her female flesh, making her aware of her body in a way she had never felt before. She moistened her mouth, not because her lips were dry but because they were tingling as if they could already feel the hot press of his mouth.

  The need to feel his mouth on hers was so intense it was like an ache spreading to every cell of her body. She could feel a distant throbbing between her legs as if that part of her was waking up from a long slumber, like Sleeping Beauty.

  Lucien watched the pathway of her tongue with his midnight-blue gaze and she could sense the battle going on inside him even though he had dropped his hand from her face. The tense jaw, the up and down movement of his Adam’s apple, the opening and closing of his hands as if he didn’t trust them to reach for her again.

  Was he thinking about kissing her? Maybe she hadn’t been mistaken at their parents’ last wedding. Maybe he’d been tempted then but had stopped himself. It was a shock to know he wanted her. A thrilling shock. Six years ago he hadn’t. Three years ago he had but he’d tried to disguise it.

  Would he act on it this time?

  ‘Were you thinking about kissing me?’ The words were out of her mouth before she could think it was wise or not to say them, her voice husky as if she had been snacking on emery boards.

  His gaze became shuttered, his body so still, so composed, as if the slightest movement would sabotage his self-control. ‘You’re mistaken.’

  And you’re lying. Audrey relished the feminine power she was feeling. Power she had never experienced in her entire adult life. When had anyone ever wan
ted to kiss her? Never, that was when.

  But Lucien did.

  His jaw worked as if he was giving his resolve a firm talking-to and his eyes were almost fixedly trained on hers as if he was worried if they would disobey orders and glance at her mouth again.

  ‘I bet if I put my lips to yours right now you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.’ Argh. Why did you say that? One part of Audrey mentally cringed but another part was secretly impressed. Impressed she had the confidence to stand up to him. To challenge him. To flirt with him.

  His eyes became hard as if he was steeling himself from the inside out. ‘Try it. I dare you.’

  A trickle of something hot and liquid spilled over in her belly. His gravelly delivered dare made the blood rush through her veins and set her heart to pounding as if she had run up a flight of stairs carrying a set of dumb-bells. Two sets. And a weight bench. Before she could stop the impulse, she lifted her hand to his face and outlined his firm mouth with her index finger, the rasp of his stubble catching against her skin like silk on tiny thorns. Even the scratchy sound of it was spine-tinglingly sexy. He held himself as still as a marble statue but she could still sense the war going on in his body as if every drop of his blood was thundering through his veins like rocket fuel. His nostrils flared like a stallion taking in the scent of a potential mate, his eyes still glittering with resolve, but there was something else lurking in the dark blue density of his gaze.

  The same something she could feel thrumming deep in her core like an echo: desire.

  But Audrey wasn’t going to betray herself by kissing him. He had rejected her twice already. She wasn’t signing up for a third. And if the gossip surrounding Lucien and Viviana was true, she was not the type of woman to kiss another woman’s lover. She didn’t want him to think she was so desperate for his attention she couldn’t control herself. With or without champagne. She lowered her hand from his face and gave him an on-off smile. ‘Lucky for you, I don’t respond to dares.’