Taming the Tycoon by Amy Andrews Page A

slowed at a roundabout and he finally looked up from his laptop. He peered out the window then glanced at his watch. “We should be there in fifteen minutes.”
    Addie felt butterflies dance in her stomach, even though she wasn’t entirely sure the comment had been directed at her. But she took the first opportunity at conversation she’d been presented since she’d told him her life story a couple of hours ago.
    “What are they like? Your mother and grandmother?”
    She was curious to know about the women in Nathaniel’s life. From what she’d heard on the phone at the hospital, his mother sounded very West Country. She’d come across as warm and loving, concerned for her son, a bit indulgent, even.
    Certainly not the type of woman she envisioned could have raised a cold-hearted businessman. No Cruella De Vil or Mommy Dearest.
    Maybe that had been his father’s influence?
    He looked at her. “They live on an alpaca farm. What do you think they’re like?”
    Addie blinked at the way he said “alpaca.” As if the matriarchs of his family were rearing unicorns.
    “Well, I’m not quite sure what alpaca farmers really look like—sweet little old ladies who spend their days bottle-feeding baby alpacas, I suppose? I’m guessing not quite as insane as the tone of your voice implies. Probably not as quick to judge, either. Probably appreciate rose gardens a lot more than some.”
    She shot him a sweet smile and weathered his exasperated look.
    “There is nothing remotely sweet or little-old-ladyish about either of them. They’re loud because my grandmother is a bit on the deaf side and refuses to wear her hearing aid, so they have to yell at each other all the time. They’re opinionated. They’re rabid conservationists. My grandmother thinks she’s a white witch and my mother indulges her. Trust me—they’re quite, quite mad.”
    Addie grinned because even through his exasperation, she could hear a grudging affection. “Oh goody, I’ve never met a white witch.”
    Nathaniel eyeballed her. “Please do not encourage her.”
    Addie bit back the urge to laugh at his stern look. “Okay fine. I’m just saying, they sound like my kind of people.” Rose-garden kind of people.
    She felt his gaze sweep from the purple sunglasses perched atop her blond hair to her flip-flops. He sighed. “Yes.”
    The car slowed down and Addie looked out the window as the limo turned into a long driveway. She noticed the crooked carved wooden sign proclaiming Hill Top and in the distance on a slight rise, a large stone house.
    Nathaniel reached for his jacket and put it on. His grim, “Here we go,” turned the butterflies to elephants.

    Nathaniel maneuvered his leg and the crutches out of the car. He could still feel the imprint of her palm on his leg from a couple of hours ago and was trying to fathom how such a fleeting touch could have such a lingering effect. Watching her step out of the limo had compounded his confusion further when her butt swaying at eye level had resulted in a very unwanted occurrence.
    The last time he’d gotten an instantaneous erection he’d been thirteen and Miss Ryan, his math teacher, had patted his hand when he’d gotten a particularly difficult equation correct. Of course, the fact that she was also blond and pretty and leaning on his desk in such a way he could just see the lacy edge of her bra probably had more to do with it than her touch. But it was as embarrassing now as it had been then.
    He wasn’t used to feeling so out of control. He had a reputation as a very cool customer and he ran his company like a military operation. He did not appreciate deviations or distractions.
    And Addie was most definitely a distraction.
    In three days, she’d had him regressing to his turbulent teens, which were the usual hormonal nightmare with a side of parental divorce and split loyalties.
    Not to mention how she’d already pricked his conscience over the garden with her leukemia