Swept Away by the Enigmatic Tycoon Read online

  It was all close to falling into place. This exhibition was the first step in making his resort a reality. Franklin’s Resort would be a non-profit venture, to honor the memory of its namesake and to provide a much-needed safe haven for families.

  At the exhibition Casson would outline his plan to create a luxury haven for children after cancer treatment—a place to restore their strength and their spirit with their families, who would all have experienced trauma. The families would enjoy a week’s stay at the resort at no cost.

  He had no doubt that the Carmichael/Casson exhibition would be successful in raising awareness and backing for his venture. And the pièce de résistance was a painting from his own personal collection. It was one of A. J. Casson’s early pieces, Storm on the Bay, and had been given to Casson’s grandfather when A.J. had been his neighbor. It was the prize in a silent auction, and Casson hoped it would attract a collector’s eye and boost the development of the resort.

  A lump formed in his throat. He had been only ten when Franklin had died, and although he had not been able to articulate his feelings at the time, he knew now that he had coped with his feeling of helplessness by overcompensating in other ways. Helping with chores; learning to make meals as a teen and excelling at school, in sport and at university. Subconsciously he had done everything he could not to add to his parents’ misery.

  After pursuing a Business and Commerce degree in Toronto, Casson had returned home to Huntsville—an hour away from Parry Sound—to purchase a struggling hardware store downtown. He had been grateful for the money his grandfather had left him in his will, which had enabled him to put a down payment on the business, and he’d vowed that he would make his grandpa proud.

  Within a couple of years the store had been thriving, and Casson had set his sights on developing a chain. Six more years and he’d had stores in Gravenhurst, Bracebridge, Port Carling and—his most recent acquisition—a hardware store in Parry Sound, just outside the Muskoka area.

  Casson had revived each store with innovative changes and promotions that would appeal both to the locals and the seasonal property-owners. The Forrest Hardware chain had made him a multi-millionaire by the time he was thirty-four.

  Losing his brother at such a young age had affected Casson deeply; he hadn’t been able to control what happened to Franklin, so he had learned to take control of his own life early. He was still in control now, steering his expanding hardware chain, and yet he had no control over Justine Winter. Not that he wanted to control her; he simply wanted control of Winter’s Haven. Her property was the last piece of the puzzle that he needed to fit into his plan.

  Earlier, the thought had flashed into his mind to invite Justine to go with him to the Stockey Centre the following day—to show her that his motive when it came to the Russell properties and Winter’s Haven was not one of financial gain, as she had immediately assumed. However, the fact that he’d even considered telling Justine the truth shocked him... He never talked about Franklin. He’d learned to keep those feelings hidden.

  Why had he nearly told her?

  It might have had something to do with those initial sparks between them...

  Anyway, he hadn’t wanted to show his vulnerability or how much this venture meant to him as a tribute to his brother. So instead he had thrust his offer upon Justine with the arrogant expectation that she would be so dazzled by the amount she’d agree to it, no questions asked.

  And if she had asked questions he wouldn’t have been prepared to open up his soul to her. Tell her that he was doing this not only for Franklin, but for himself. For all the lonely years he had spent after his brother’s death, unable to share his grief with his mother, whose pain at losing Franklin had created an emotional barrier that even Casson could not penetrate. His father had thrown himself into his work, and when he was at home had seemed to have only enough energy to provide a comforting shoulder for his wife.

  It was only in later years that Casson had contemplated going to a few sessions of grief counselling. It had been emotionally wrenching to relive the past, but Casson had eventually forgiven his parents. It had been during that time that his idea for a resort to help kids like Franklin had begun to take root. What he hadn’t been able to do for Franklin at ten years of age, he could now do for many kids like him—including his godson Andy, his cousin Veronica’s only child.

  Andy’s cancer diagnosis a year earlier had shocked Casson, and triggered memories and feelings of the past. Supporting Andy and Veronica during subsequent treatment had made him all the more determined to see his venture become a reality. Casson just wished his parents were still alive to witness it as well...

  Franklin & Casson on the Bay was only a few days away. His plan was on target. There was one key missing.

  And Justine had it.

  Casson took a gulp of his beer. Damn, it was hot. He loosened his tie. As he contemplated changing and going for a swim, a vision of Justine Winter standing with wet hair in her bathing suit flashed in his memory. That turquoise one-piece had molded to the heady curves of her body, and her tanned thighs and legs had been sugared with white beach sand that sparkled in the sun. Her hair, straight and dripping water over her cleavage... An enchanting sea creature...

  He had sensed her discomfort, knew how exposed she’d felt. If only she knew what the sight of her body had done to him.

  Casson unbuttoned his shirt and went inside to change. A dip in the refreshing waters of Georgian Bay would cool him down—inside and out...

  * * *

  Casson stretched out on the edge of the dock to let the sun heat his body. There was nothing like that first dive into the bay when your body was sizzling hot. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them, wondered if he had dozed off. Although he had slapped on some sunscreen earlier, his skin felt slightly more burnished.

  He scrambled to his feet and Luna shuffled excitedly around him. Casson heard a faint voice calling him, but when he turned there was nobody there. There was some rustling in the trees and a flash of blue, followed by the shrill call of a blue jay.

  Casson looked down at the water, anticipating the bracing pleasure awaiting him. A hint of a breeze tickled his nose, followed by the faint smell of fish. He blinked at his reflection, wiping at the sweat prickling his eyes. In the gently lapping bay he imagined Franklin beside him, wearing his faded Toronto Blue Jays cap, his skinny arms holding a fishing rod with its catch of pickerel and his toothy grin. And the sparkle in his eyes...

  And then the sparkle was lost in the sun’s glittering reflection and the image was swallowed up by the waves. Casson dropped down to sit at the edge of the dock, his original intention forgotten. He continued to peer intensely into the water, and it was only moments later, when Luna pressed against him to lick his face, that Casson realized she was licking the salty tears on his cheeks.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE RAIN DRUMMING on the roof woke Justine an hour before she’d intended. She didn’t mind at all, though. Rainy days were good for doing odd jobs, renovating an empty cottage, or just relaxing with a good book in the window seat in her room. It was one of her favorite reading spots, with its plush flowery cushions and magnificent view of the bay.

  Justine changed into jeans and a nautical-style T-shirt, brushed her hair back into a ponytail, and went downstairs. After having a quick coffee and one of the banana yogurt muffins she had made last night, she grabbed her umbrella and dashed to her car.

  Despite the fact that she had always liked this kind of weather, Justine couldn’t help but feel a twist in her stomach, remembering the rainy day she’d walked into Robert Morrell’s law office for an interview. She’d been twenty-four, and had graduated summa cum laude in Law and Justice from the University of Toronto. That and her business electives had impressed Robert and Clare, his senior administrative assistant, who would be retiring in six months, and Robert had offered her t
he job the following day.

  As time had progressed the initial rapport between them had developed into an easy friendship. Justine had sometimes stayed at the office during lunchtime, catching up on paperwork between bites of her sandwich or salad. And Robert, to her surprise, had often done the same, claiming he wanted to go home at a decent hour so his wife wouldn’t complain that he was “married to the job.”

  Shared conversations had begun to take on a more personal note during Justine’s second year at the office, and when Robert had started to hint at his marriage breakdown she had felt compelled to listen and comfort him as he’d revealed more and more.

  The underlying spark of attraction between them had not come to the forefront until after his divorce had almost become final. Then, with nothing and nobody to hold them back, Justine and Robert had begun dating...

  Justine forced Robert out of her thoughts as she turned the corner and drove into the parking lot of the hardware store, finding a spot near the front doors. Something looked vaguely different about the place, and then she realized the signage had changed. New ownership, she had heard.

  Without bothering to get her umbrella, she dashed into the store and toward the wood department.

  “May I help you?”

  Justine turned to find a middle-aged employee smiling at her.

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Blake,” she said, smiling back. “Glad to see you’re still here. I’d like to order some cedar paneling for one of the cottages.”

  “I thought it was you. Back from Toronto, I hear. Your dad told me you’d be taking over Winter’s Haven.”

  Justine nodded. “I’m glad to be back.”

  As she handed him a piece of paper with the measurements a feeling of contentedness came over her. She had made the right decision, coming back home.

  This was what she loved about living in a small town—knowing the names of local merchants, dealing with people who knew her parents.

  She had felt the call of the big city, and had enjoyed it for a time, but the breakup with Robert and the lonely month that had followed had made her realize how truly alone she was. With no job and no meaningful friendships—the people Robert had introduced her to didn’t qualify—she’d yearned for the small-town connections of Parry Sound. Home. The place she had always felt safe in, nurtured and supported by family, friends and community.

  “Are you thinking of running the business on a permanent basis?” Mr. Blake glanced at her curiously.

  “I sure am.” She beamed. “I can’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven again.”

  Mr. Blake glanced over her shoulder, as if he were looking for someone, and then gave her a hesitant smile. “Well, good luck to you. When your order is ready I’ll give you a call. You can let me know then when you want the job done.”

  “Sounds good!” Justine leafed through her bag and took out her car keys. “Thanks, Mr. Blake, and have a great day.”

  Justine strode toward the exit, wondering why the expression on his face had seemed to change after her saying she couldn’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven. She grimaced when she came to the door. The rain was coming down in torrents now, and she regretted leaving her umbrella in the car. She would get drenched despite the short distance.

  She made a run for it, giving a yelp as she stepped in a sizeable puddle.

  “Damn,” she muttered as she inserted the wrong key in the lock. She should have brought a rain jacket, she berated herself, slamming the door at last.

  Her top was plastered against her, and although she had planned to do some further shopping she was not about to go anywhere in this condition. Her jeans were soaked as well—front and back—and she couldn’t wait to get back home, strip everything off and take a shower.

  She backed out carefully and drove out of the parking lot. Although it was barely mid-morning the sky had darkened, and she could hear ominous rumbles of thunder. Her wipers were going at full-tilt, but the rain was pelting the windshield so hard that she could barely see through it.

  As Justine drove slowly out of the town limits and toward the long country road that would take her home she tried to ignore the clammy feeling of her wet clothes against her skin.

  A sudden beeping noise behind her startled her, and she glanced immediately in the rearview mirror. She could see a burgundy pickup truck, but it was impossible to see the driver.

  To Justine’s consternation the honking became more persistent. The truck didn’t have its indicators on, so the driver couldn’t be in any kind of trouble. And she didn’t imagine it was an admirer. She wasn’t unused to appreciative smiles from male drivers once in a while, along with the occasional whistle or honk of their horn, but she doubted that this was the case today.

  The rain was subsiding—thank goodness. And as she looked in the rearview mirror again she saw that the driver had his arm out the window, signaling for her to pull over. Now she felt alarmed. Was it a cop? No, not in a pickup truck. And it wouldn’t be for speeding...

  He honked again and she looked back, but a sudden rush of oncoming cars made her concentrate on the road. She cautiously pressed on the gas pedal. Too many weirdos on the road, she thought. She swerved around a bend, and a quick look reassured her that the creep was gone.

  She reached the turnoff to Winter’s Haven. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds. She clicked off her wipers, headed directly past the office building and turned into the road through a lengthy wooded stretch that led to her driveway. She sighed, but had barely turned off the ignition when she heard the crunch of an approaching vehicle.

  A moment later the burgundy pickup truck she’d thought she had seen the last of pulled up right next to her.

  She was more angry than worried now. How dare he? Without a thought to any potential danger, she flung the car door open and got out, her cheeks flaming. The man had gotten out of his truck and was leaning against it, casually silent, as he watched Justine march stormily up to him.

  “Why are you following me?” she demanded, stopping a few feet away from him. “It was bad enough trying to drive with you tailgating and honking incessantly. Can’t you find a more civilized way of pursuing a woman? Highway dramatics don’t do anything for me.”

  The man’s mouth twisted and he continued to stare at her through dark sunglasses. A few seconds passed. Why wasn’t he answering her? Maybe she should have stayed in the car. He might have a knife. She could scream, but nobody was close enough to hear her.

  She looked at him closely. She might need to file a report if she managed to get away from him. His faded jeans and jacket seemed ordinary enough, but his bearded face, dark glasses and baseball cap might very well be concealing the face of an escaped criminal. Would she be able to run back to her car? No, she’d never make it if he intended to pursue her.

  She shivered and said shakily, “What do you want?”

  Another twist of his lips. “Your hubcap flew off a few miles back,” he drawled. “So you can relax. I’m not about to attack you.”

  Justine let out an audible sigh. And then she felt her cheeks start to burn. She had accused him of pursuing her.

  “I’m usually more civilized when it comes to pursuing women,” he said, and laughed, as if he had read her thoughts. “And ‘highway dramatics,’ as I believe you put it, are not my style.”

  Justine’s discomfiture grew. “I apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusion, but you can hardly blame me, can you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Your voice sounds familiar...”

  For some reason, the realization bothered her.

  A suspicion suddenly struck her in a way that made her knees want to buckle.

  “Haven’t figured it out yet?” he said, removing his sunglasses.

  Tiger eyes. Damn!

  With the cap, sunglasses, casual clothes and truck, and two weeks’ growth of beard, she hadn’t even
suspected.

  “It’s...you!” she sputtered, wide-eyed.

  “Nice to see you again, too,” Casson Forrester murmured, with the slightest hint of sarcasm. “Actually, I spotted you in the hardware store, but you left before I could reach you. There are a few things I want to discuss with you.”

  “You didn’t have to follow me.”

  “I didn’t think you’d accept my call.” His eyes narrowed. “Among other things, I was going to suggest you don’t bother paneling or doing any other kind of work if you’re going to end up selling the place...”

  Justine’s eyes flashed their annoyance. “That’s your mistaken presumption,” she retorted. “And were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”

  “I didn’t have to. Mr. Blake happened to mention it when I called a staff meeting.”

  “You own Forrest Hardware?” she said slowly. “And Forrest Construction....”

  Of course. Forrest was simply an abbreviated form of his name, and an appropriate choice for his chain of stores in the Muskoka area—including the latest one in Parry Sound. She had briefly noticed the new sign, but the name hadn’t registered in her consciousness—least of all the connection with its owner.

  She gave a curt laugh. “No wonder you can buy practically anything—or anybody—you want.”

  “Not always,” his tiger eyes glinted. “Although it’s not for lack of trying.”

  She shivered. And at the sudden clap of thunder they both looked up to the sky. The clouds had blocked out the sun again, and a few errant raindrops had started coming down. Realizing she had been standing there in her wet T-shirt and jeans, her hair flattened against her head except for the few strands that were now curling with the humidity, she crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Excuse me,” she said icily, “I’m going to have to leave.” She turned away, then glanced back. “I’ll look for the hubcap later.”