Czytaj książkę: «Captivated By The Millionaire»

CHAPTER ONE
Six months later

JESSALYN RAFFI WAS completely engrossed in the mural she was painting on the wall. It was good. Really good, if she did say so herself. She’d spent most of the day painstakingly drawing and creating a detailed image of a majestic, ancient castle sitting atop a grand mountain. Fat, fluffy clouds floated above its towers. She’d even thrown in a few knights on steeds along its base.

Jess had no doubt the child about to occupy this room as a new resident of this house was going to love it. What child wouldn’t? To be able to walk into your bedroom and feel like you could be transported through time and space into an entirely different reality would seem magical to any youngster. She was certain of it.

As engrossed as she was, she didn’t even hear the front door open and close downstairs; nor did she hear the steady sound of footsteps as someone came up the stairs and approached the open door. It took her a moment to realize that someone now stood right outside in the hallway. So it was no wonder she shrieked as loud as she did when she finally understood she was no longer alone. A strange man stood staring at her. Out of sheer reflex, she threw the wet paintbrush she held directly at his chest like some sort of futile weapon, her aim finding its target straight and center.

“What the hell?” a deep masculine voice responded with outrage.

She realized her mistake almost immediately. But it was too late. An angry splotch of red paint spread and splattered across the newcomer’s shirt.

His clearly expensive, well-tailored silk shirt.

He was no intruder. In fact, if she had to hedge a bet, Jess would guess he was the new homeowner. And she’d attacked him with a messy wet paintbrush.

She rushed over immediately, grabbing her damp rag off the floor along the way. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. It’s just that you startled me.” But her attempts to try and wipe the paint off his chest only served to make matters worse. The splotchy stain simply spread across the fabric of his shirt into one big blob of bright red. The more she tried to mop it up, the messier things got.

“Please stop,” he commanded through gritted teeth, his hands clenched at his sides. No doubt he was willing himself to keep from forcefully grabbing her hands and pushing her away. To his credit, he didn’t.

Jess wanted to sink into the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “What in the world are you doing here?”

He blinked at her, anger clouding his eyes. “This is my house. I should be the one asking you that question.”

Through her mortification, Jess finally allowed herself to look at the man’s face. Lordy, he was so utterly striking. Sandy-blond hair just dark enough that he couldn’t be described as fair. Just enough facial hair that added a rugged masculinity to his face. Piercing grayish-green eyes. He stood about a head taller than she did. Even in his annoyed state, it was impossible not to notice just how handsome he was.

“But I had no idea you were due to arrive,” she stammered through her embarrassment. “Marie told me you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow morning. She owns the contracting company you hired. Just so happens she’s a friend of mine. Throws me odd jobs here and there.” Now she was just blabbering. Get a grip. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I was just finishing up.” She pointed to the massive painting on the wall behind her.

He didn’t even glance at it. “None of that explains why you’re here at this hour. Nor why my front door was unlocked.”

She shrugged, tried to smile. It didn’t quite manifest. “I guess I lost track of time. Like I said, I was working on the mural.”

A momentary pause of silence ensued in which he simply stood and studied her. Jess turned away when she couldn’t stand the scrutiny any longer. “It’s a castle,” she unnecessarily informed him.

“Why?”

She turned back to face him as the single word hung in the air. “Why? Why what?”

He let out a long, clearly frustrated breath. “Why are you painting a mural in the first place? I asked my assistant to hire contractors simply to apply fresh paint through the house. They were given very specific instructions regarding color scheme. Instructions that I was told were relayed to the painters.”

Jess cleared her throat, trying not to get flustered. She had to keep her cool here. “Yes, I know. Eggshell white. Throughout the whole house.” How did he not see how utterly bland and boring that was? Eggshell white could hardly be considered a color scheme for heaven’s sake. She kept that thought to herself.

He gave one sharp nod. “Correct. Very simple. At no point was there any request for a medieval castle complete with towers and banners to be drawn on the wall.”

A lump had formed in her throat. “I realize that. But I was told this was to be the child’s room and I thought any little boy or girl would appreciate—”

He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Regardless of what you thought, you took it upon yourself to do something that resulted in a delay to my schedule.”

She tried not to cringe. He sort of had a point about that. “I apologize. But it will only take me a few more minutes to finish up.”

He squinted at her, eyebrows drawn over tight, dark, piercing eyes. “The little girl who is to occupy this room is due to arrive in just a few minutes with her little pink pony air mattress ready to inflate. Thanks to you, she won’t be able to spend the first night in her new home in her new room.”

Okay. Another good point. But it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of rooms in the house. The place was a downright mansion for heaven’s sake. Another point she wasn’t going to bring up. “Again, I apologize,” she simply repeated. “I’ll just finish up really quickly.”

But he wasn’t listening. In fact, he had stepped aside and was motioning toward the stairs. “Please just leave.”

Jess swallowed past the lump that had now grown to brick size. Damn it. She wasn’t going to tear up and cry. Not in front of this cranky, rude stranger. She’d only been trying to do something nice for a small child. Without a word, she swiftly began to gather her things.

Like the saying went, no good deed and all that.

* * *

Jordan watched the young lady descend the stairs and make a beeline to the door. He thought for sure she’d slam it behind her but surprisingly, she didn’t. Just shut it slowly with a soft click of the handle. But there was no doubt she was in a hurry to get out of the house. Well, who could blame her? After the way he’d behaved just now, it was no wonder she wanted out. He’d almost called her back to apologize as she rushed down the stairs. Perhaps he should have. But it had been such a long day and all he’d wanted to do was check out the new house then take a long shower. Only to find a strange woman hovering about. He rubbed a hand down his face and grabbed his hastily packed overnight bag from the hallway where he’d thrown it. He’d just driven four straight hours, some of it through pouring rain, on the speakerphone for most of the time, dealing with a major proposal with an important investor. He could hardly be blamed for being a little short after finding an unexpected woman in his home upon arrival. Not to mention she’d ruined one of his good shirts. No, he couldn’t really be faulted for the way he’d reacted.

Could he?

Jordan gave a shake of his head. What was done was done. He couldn’t take it back now. There was nothing for it. What was he supposed to do? Find out exactly who she was from the contracting company then try to contact her to apologize? He didn’t have that kind of spare time. And trying to catch up to her now was just downright silly. So why was he entertaining the notion of doing just that? He had to shake off the useless thoughts.

And anyway, Elise was due to arrive with little Sonya in a few minutes and he’d be too busy getting everyone set up for the night in the new place. He barely had time for a shower at this point.

Despite the press of time, Jordan turned to the painted wall of the mural she’d been working on. Now that he was truly looking at it, he had to admit what a work of art it was. Walking over, he studied the painting further, for that was what it truly was—an artistic painting. Full of detail and color, down to the tiny knights on horseback climbing the side of the mountain. She’d done all this freehand. The level of detail was breathtaking. And he’d chastised her for it.

Perhaps an attempt to find her and apologize wasn’t such a far-fetched idea after all.

Despite the overwhelming paint smell, he’d gotten a small whiff of her subtle lilac scent when she’d brushed by him as she left the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d noticed a woman’s scent. He recalled the uncomfortable silence and tension in the air as she’d gathered her things, biting her bottom lip no doubt to try and hide the trembling. That thought had his shame growing.

There was no denying he’d behaved like a complete bastard. No excuse would change that fact. Yet more proof that he didn’t have the temperament or the patience to be the sole guardian of a little girl. But he’d had no choice, had he?

His father’s words echoed through his mind. You have to take her, Jordan. Her mother doesn’t want her. I know how much I’m asking of you.

Well, Martha’s Vineyard was a small island, the major reason they were moving here. The sort of place where everyone frequented the same establishments. Chances were probably quite high that he’d run into the artist again at some point. When he did, he’d be sure to make a genuine and heartfelt apology.

No use beating himself up about it right now.

* * *

By the time he dried off, Jordan had convinced himself even further that he’d be able to make amends. He was bound to run into the young lady one way or another. Not only would he apologize, he would also make sure to compliment her on her clear artistic talent. Maybe he’d even get a chance to explain that he dealt with curt, cutthroat business people every day in his professional life. Sometimes, that curtness spilled over into his own behavior, particularly on days like the one today had been.

The notion of being able to explain himself served to bolster his mood. And it absolutely had nothing to do with the prospect of running into the artistic painter at some point in the future.

He heard the front door open downstairs followed by Elise’s feminine voice announcing their arrival. After throwing on a pair of sweats and soft cotton T-shirt, he made his way downstairs.

“You found the place okay, then?” he asked the nanny, who was in the process of helping Sonya out of her bright pink hoodie.

“Yep.”

“Hey, sport,” he said as he tousled the little girl’s hair. She responded with a simple wave and a small, shy smile. Not that he’d expected it, but a part of him still reeled at the lack of a verbal response. Since slowly and gradually losing her ability to hear, the child had become less and less willing to speak. It was tearing him up inside, despite what all the experts said about such a response being common and expected.

He leaned down to her height and signed that he was happy to see her. That earned him a toothless grin. They were both just recently starting to get the hang of using sign language. Though barely six, Sonya was a quick and motivated learner. In fact, she was picking up on the skill faster than he was.

“She looks tired.” He stood, addressing Elise.

“And hungry. It was a long ride. Though Sonya did enjoy the ferry from the Cape.”

“I saw a pizza place not too far away on my ride over. Hope they deliver.”

“If they don’t, I call ‘not it’ on driving to pick it up. I’ve had enough traveling.”

“Fine,” he relented. “Then after that we’ll get her settled and into bed,” he said out loud but made a cupped hand sleeping motion to Sonya. She nodded in response.

“She’s excited to see her new room,” Elise said. “Can I take her up for a quick look before dinner?”

“There’s a surprise waiting for her there.”

Elise raised an eyebrow with curiosity. Jordan held his hand out to Sonya. “Let’s go see,” he told her, not sure how much she would hear him but knowing she’d understand.

Once they got there, Sonya’s eyes grew wide. She clapped in pure joy when she saw the castle painted on the wall. Another pang of guilt slammed through Jordan’s chest. The beautiful painter had been right all along. Sonya was delighted with the image. She ran over to the wall to take a closer look. Elise had started recording the little girl’s reaction with her mobile phone. Sonya paced along the wall, taking in every detail, smiling in delight.

“That’s amazing,” Elise said behind him. “How thoughtful of you to commission someone to do such a thing, Jordan. Someone obviously very talented.”

If she only knew. An image suddenly flashed in his mind—of a dark-haired beauty in paint-splattered overalls trying desperately to control her trembling bottom lip. Sonya ran back to him and hugged his leg in delight. He could only rub the top of her small head.

“Ank oo,” she said in a tiny, strained voice.

Jordan cursed under his breath as he bit back the sudden choking feeling at the base of his throat. Sonya’s attempt at speaking was such a rare occurrence these days.

Yeah, he owed someone a heck of an apology.

* * *

The little girl was ignoring her. Or she was playing a little game of sorts. One thing was for certain; Jess wasn’t familiar with the child at all, had never seen her before here at the Vineyard Vine’s Children’s Center. Or anywhere else on the island, for that matter. The center provided a central location for all sorts of activities and classes, including child care and creative arts for young children, as well as athletic pursuits such as gymnastics and swim lessons in the regulation-size pool behind the building. Jess had been teaching painting there part-time for the better part of three years. And she loved every minute of it. Perhaps she had a new pupil. The girl’s mother was probably in the office right behind them signing her up for classes.

Jess realized her mistake as soon as she approached the child. She hadn’t been ignoring her at all. The clearly startled expression on her face when Jess reached her side told her she hadn’t heard when Jess had said hello from behind her.

She had a hearing impairment.

Jess had enough experience working with small children that she had a rudimentary knowledge of sign language. Crouching down to eye level with her, she signed hello.

The child’s response was a wide smile and a small wave.

My name is Jess.

The little girl spelled out her name in ASL. Sonya.

Hello, Sonya. I’m so happy to meet you.

That earned her another smile.

Jess pointed to the bulletin board the girl had been staring at when she’d come upon her. Specifically, her gaze seemed to be focused on a flyer announcing the summer play. Jess and a couple of other teachers had volunteered to help the children put together an elementary performance of Mother Goose.

If the girl was new in town, the play might be a perfect way to get her acclimated to her new community. Jess pointed to the caption on the flyer that read Parts Still Available. Then she pointed to Sonya’s chest.

“Would you like to be in the play? There are still spots open, and we’ve only just begun rehearsals. I’m one of the teachers in charge. And we’d love to have you.”

Sonya seemed to understand at least the gist of what Jess was asking her. She tapped her finger on the flyer once more. The little girl’s eyes widened as she pondered the question.

Her impairment wouldn’t be a problem at all, Jess figured. They could certainly adapt a part that would work for her easily enough. At this age, the children were so young, none of them were actually saying many lines anyway.

“What do you think?” Jess asked. “Would you like to be in the play?”

The glass door of the office opened just then and a harsh male voice suddenly boomed behind her. A somewhat familiar voice, at that.

“What in devil’s name?”

She turned to find the last person in the world she’d been expecting here. The cranky grouch from the other night. The one who’d yelled at her about her castle.

Hard to believe, but he seemed even more upset with her now than he’d been then.

* * *

Jordan’s surprise at seeing the young artist again quickly turned to ire when he realized what she was up to. Had she really just asked Sonya to be in some sort of preschool performance? What could she possibly be thinking? To think for a split second, when he’d first seen her out here in this hallway, he’d actually felt grateful at the prospect of being able to apologize for his behavior the other night. As if.

She straightened at his question. “What are you doing here?” she demanded to know, her eyes shooting daggers his way.

Not that it was any of her business, but he responded to her question, the one she’d asked with scorn and derision clear in her voice. As if she should be the one to be outraged in the current scenario. “I’m signing her up for swimming classes.” Jordan wanted to get the errand out of the way first thing after they’d settled in. The L-shaped pool in his new backyard was deep enough to be concerning. Not to mention the Atlantic Ocean a stone’s throw away.

He didn’t really have time to stand here and answer her questions. The woman was a repetitive thorn in his side and he didn’t even know who she was.

It was his turn to demand some answers. “What exactly were you asking her?”

Sonya stood staring at them from one to another. She appeared to be smiling at the exchange.

“First of all, please check your tone. Secondly, I was merely asking Sonya if she wanted to participate in the preschool play. Hardly an unforgivable offense.”

“She doesn’t. She’s not interested.”

Her eyes narrowed on him and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Shouldn’t she have any kind of say in the matter?”

“She’s barely six. Why would you even ask her to make such a decision?”

“Because I teach a class here and also volunteer to put together the annual summer play.” She extended her hand. “I’m Jess. Jessalyn Raffi.”

Jordan shook the hand she offered and introduced himself, reflexively and out of sheer common courtesy, despite his impatience.

The introductions seemed to somehow only further increase the awkwardness.

She cleared her throat before continuing. “Your daughter seemed interested in the flyer and—”

He cut her off. “Sister.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s not my daughter. She’s my sister. And she won’t be acting in some play.”

“She’s your sister?” She sounded incredulous.

“Half sister to be totally accurate.” Jordan rammed a hand through his hair in frustration. Again, none of this was any of her business.

“I see,” Jess responded. “Why?”

Was she serious? “Why is she my sister?”

She gave a small shake of her head. “No. Why don’t you want her to be in the play? I think it would give her a chance to get to know other children. I know you’re new to Martha’s Vineyard.”

If she couldn’t guess why, he wasn’t going to explain it to her.

Between Sonya’s difficulties with her hearing and her reluctance to speak, being involved in a play could open her to all sorts of taunts from the other children.

Damned if he would put Sonya through such exposure and embarrassment.

Not after all that she’d already been through.