The Irresistible Tycoon by Helen Brooks

suggested he was comparing chalk to cheese.
    He was suddenly uncomfortable with his thoughts and, reaching for another sandwich, having finished the first, he turned his mind to the Clarkson file sitting in front of him, dismissing all further thoughts of Kim with the single-minded ruthlessness that had made Kane Electrical so successful in the last decade.
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    It took Kim a good deal longer to get her unregenerate thoughts under lock and key, but once she had succeededshe determined they wouldn’t escape again. Lucas Kane could prance around naked if he so desired and she wouldn’t turn a hair, she told herself on the drive home that evening.
    She had to admit he had a certain something, a darkly seductive something—in fact it was a relief to acknowledge it and bring it out into the open, she assured herself firmly. He was a compellingly attractive man—most powerful, wealthy men had an aura that set them apart from the crowd—but it didn’t make them easy to live with or likeable.
    And she didn’t have to like him; as long as she could respect his business acumen and flair and enjoy her work, that was all she wanted. His lifestyle and the way he conducted his personal relationships was absolutely no concern of hers; the fact that he embodied everything she most disliked in a man in that area didn’t mean she couldn’t work with him. He saw her as part of the office machinery, not a woman, and that made all the difference.
    She was well satisfied with her reasoning by the time she drew up outside the school gates and parked the car, walking down the concrete drive and standing to one side of the big wooden doors as the first desultory snowflakes began to fall out of a laden sky.
    By the time Melody emerged with one or two other children—the teacher standing just behind them and checking each child had its respective escort—the snow was coming down in thick fat white flakes that sent the children into transports of delight.
    â€˜Mummy, it’s really snowing!’ Melody danced up to her, her small face alight. ‘Can we build a snowman in the garden?’
    â€˜Maybe tomorrow, if it snows enough,’ Kim agreed warmly. The cottage had a delightful garden with a large lawn surrounded by mature trees and shrubs, and Melodyhad already commandeered a small corner of it, announcing she was going to plant her own herb garden in the spring.
    She would, too, Kim thought fondly as they walked to the car. Anything she set her mind to, Melody did; her small daughter was bubbling over with confidence and vitality and thankfully had no memory of the last terrible months Graham had put them through before he had died.
    She refused to dwell on thoughts of her late husband, concentrating on Melody and asking her small daughter about her day, but once Melody was in bed and the cottage was quiet she found the memories flooding in in spite of all her efforts to shut them out.
    She had thought she loved Graham—she had been sure she loved him—but the old adage that said you never knew someone until you lived with them had certainly been true in her husband’s case, she reflected bitterly.
    The handsome, bright, only son of aged doting parents, Graham had been spoilt outrageously from the cradle. In spite of their fairly limited means, Graham’s parents had endeavoured to give their charismatic offspring everything he wanted, even financing the one-man business he had set up after finishing university, although it had taken every last penny they had.
    She hadn’t been aware of that at the time; she hadn’t been aware of many things which had come to light after Graham’s death.
    She hadn’t known he had a drink problem at university—everyone drank, it was part of the culture, and Graham had been adept at hiding his addiction from her. And by the time it became apparent he was an alcoholic she had been pregnant with Melody and desperate to make her