Rescued by the Guarded Tycoon Page 3

  Her lips twitched. “Sorry. I’ve got some books I’d like to delve into.” She took a couple of steps toward the doorway and then stopped to look back at him. “You’ll have to twiddle all by yourself.”

  Red laughed. “That’s no fun. But I will graciously accept your decision, Ronnie. Now let me lead you to a guest room.”

  A couple of minutes later they were in the hall on the second level, with its original narrow-slat oak flooring and elegant gold-embossed wallpaper. They passed several open doors, revealing fully furnished rooms. He had been lucky to purchase the house with all the antiques and furniture. The elderly previous owner, whose great-grandparents had built the house, had decided to sell when he was told that his condition was terminal. It would make him happy, he had explained to the Realtor, to find someone who would genuinely love and preserve the Victorian home that had been passed down to relatives over the years, since there were no longer any heirs.

  Red had been in the right place at the right time. His old university friend, Casson Forrester, had gotten in touch and had hired Red’s architectural firm to design Franklin’s Resort, a getaway for children who had finished their chemotherapy treatment. They and their parent or parents would be treated to a week at the luxury resort. Red had visited Parry Sound himself, fallen in love with the area, and had decided to invest in a property in the little town known as the “jewel of Georgian Bay’s Thirty Thousand Islands” and located inside the UNESCO-designated Georgian Bay Biosphere Reserve.

  When he discovered that a Victorian mansion had been listed, Red had immediately made plans to check it out. He would be interested in renovating it, and perhaps designing some unique architectural features for the property. Although his flagship firm was located in Toronto’s Harbourfront, with offices in major cities around the world, Red had been charmed by the idea of spending time in picturesque Parry Sound when he needed a break from big-city living. And when he had gone through the house and surveyed the property, complete with a picturesque pond and a stunning view of the channel that fed into Georgian Bay, Red had been hooked.

  He had taken possession of it a month earlier, but had only moved in two weeks ago, in plenty of time to settle in and attend the grand opening of Franklin’s Resort. He had hired a company to give the interior a fresh cleaning, and the only rooms he had made any changes to were his bedroom and the two guest rooms, with the purchase of new beds and linens, and the washrooms on both levels. He had plenty of time to consider any other modifications. For the next couple of weeks, all he wanted to do was enjoy his new estate and let some design ideas germinate...

  “We’re almost there,” he said, slowing suddenly and turning. Ronnie, whose gaze had been drawn to the open door—and his room—across the hall, collided squarely with him. She stumbled backward, dropping her bag of books, and his arms instinctively flew out to grasp her firmly. As her head skimmed his chest, he felt a spike in his pulse. And then she pulled away and his arms dropped to his sides.

  “Sorry about that,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. She picked up her bag.

  “No worries,” he said lightly. “But I think we need to practice a little more if we want to perfect our tango for that dancing show on TV...”

  Red saw Ronnie begin to frown and then her brow relaxed and she laughed. He was glad she was taking his comment as a joke, and as nothing more suggestive. He stopped farther on in front of a closed door. “This is one of the guest rooms,” he said.

  He turned on the light switch just inside the door, and gestured for her to enter the room. He felt a tug of satisfaction at the look of wonder and surprise on her face. “I wanted to maintain the Victorian features in most of the place,” he said. “This room has just been refreshed—new wallpaper, draperies, linens. In fact, you’re the first guest to sleep in the new bed...”

  “Wow, I guess I’ll know what Queen Victoria felt like,” she murmured.

  “Enjoy the experience,” he said with a half smile. “And make sure to turn on the gas fireplace if you find it cool during the night.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m always hot at night.” She averted her gaze immediately, and Red suspected she was regretting the phrase.

  “Okay, then, good night.”

  She glanced back at him. “Good night,” she said, before shutting the door firmly.

  Red stood for a few moments, staring at the door, and then went downstairs to the grand salon. He ambled to the window seat that looked out of the huge bay window onto the channel. The freezing rain hadn’t abated; in fact, it had intensified, and Red’s view was obscured by the accumulation of ice on the pane.

  Even with the limited view, Red felt himself relaxing. He would enjoy visiting this place regularly and experiencing a taste of all the seasons, he thought, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Mr. Cameron Doyle—the previous owner—had wanted to personally meet whomever was interested in buying his mansion, and after chatting an hour with Red over afternoon tea, he had accepted Red’s offer, expressing his delight that “a young man of the same Irish heritage” would be purchasing it, with the intention of maintaining it as his family had done for a hundred years.

  “And maybe you can find yourself a bonnie lass to marry and have a half-dozen children to liven up the place again.” He had slapped Red heartily on the back, and Red and the Realtor had laughed before taking their leave.

  Red’s smile faded as another memory popped up. The image of his ex-girlfriend, Sofia, whom he had dated for over a year. Red had met her when her family had contacted his firm to redesign an estate and winery they had recently purchased in Italy’s Tuscany region. Sofia helped run her Italian Canadian parents’ wine business, which encompassed vineyards in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, and in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia.

  After focusing exclusively on his graduate studies and then his family business, Red had allowed himself to reconsider dating...

  It hadn’t taken him long to be captivated by Sofia and her little boy, Marco. Red had spent many hours with Marco while Sofia dealt with business calls and regular trips to the family’s various wineries. They had agreed to maintain their separate condos, especially since Sofia had a five-year-old son. After she had returned from the ribbon-cutting ceremony at the official reopening of the Tuscany winery, she had dropped a bombshell: she had been seeing the Italian lawyer handling the sale, and she was sorry, but she and Red had been drifting apart in the last little while, and the best thing was to accept it and get on with their lives.

  Red remembered blinking at her and thinking: Drifting apart? Yes, she had been spending more time at work, but he had continued to spend time with Marco...

  As the weeks went by, Red’s initial shock and surprise—even sadness and occasional anger at Sofia’s betrayal—had eventually begun to subside. The hardest part was missing Marco. He soon realized that the only genuine love that had existed in the relationship had been that between him and the boy. His sadness over Marco had lingered, but he had realized that he had no choice but to accept the situation and get on with his life.

  And he had vowed he would never again get involved with a woman with a child or children.

  Not that he didn’t want kids one day. And he wanted to experience a close bond with them, something he hadn’t had with his own parents.

  They had been affectionate and loving when they were home, but as a couple whose award-winning architectural firm had been commissioned to do projects around the world, they had enjoyed extensive traveling and had often left Red in the care of his full-time nanny. They had missed special occasions and milestones in his life, and although his nanny had to be credited with trying to make the events memorable for him, Red had felt the absence of his parents. As he grew older, he became better at masking his hurt and disappointment by pretending to be cheerful and happy-go-lucky.

  Red had been popular with the girls in high school—they had liked his easygoing pe
rsonality and humor—but that facade had threatened to crumble when a date eventually invited him over for dinner. Meeting her parents and witnessing the interactions of a “normal” family would make him a little edgy and he would shift uncomfortably at their probing questions about his family. Despite the impressive meal and their congenial banter, Red would leave with an unsettled feeling in his stomach...and not long afterward, he’d break up with the girl.

  Red hadn’t realized the true source of his discontent at first. As he continued to date, he’d experience similar feelings of discomfort, followed by a lingering malaise, followed a short time later by him breaking up with the girl. He had always been the one to initiate the breakup. By the end of his final year of high school, the girl who had been his prom date hadn’t accepted his excuse for breaking up—the fact that he was studying architecture out of town and it would be too hard for him to keep up with a relationship. “You just want to keep stringing girls along.” Sherry had hurled the accusation at him. “You’re obviously not the kind to want a serious relationship with anyone, from the look of your track record. Well, go, then!” She had leaped out of his Mustang convertible and slammed the door. “Have a happy life. Alone!”

  Red had watched her for a moment, a burning feeling of frustration and anger rising into his throat. He stepped hard on the gas and screeched away.

  As he drove back to his parents’ house—he couldn’t call it a home—he had forced himself to take deep breaths in and out. He had parked, strode through the empty house—his parents were in the South of France—and stretched out on his bed to think about what Sherry had said about his track record. There had been a pattern. A string of dates...that hadn’t lasted.

  And it had finally hit him. He had broken off with every date before he could become entrenched in her domestic life. Red had wanted to be a part of his own family, not anyone else’s.

  Spending time with them had emphasized the emptiness in his own familial situation even more.

  And he hadn’t liked the feeling in his gut...

  Red had immersed himself in his studies at the University of Toronto. Despite the invitations and hints from female classmates, he had stayed clear of relationships. Other than group get-togethers on a Friday night, he had focused on his academic goals.

  When he had graduated summa cum laude, his parents had been on the opposite side of the world. Red had paused on the stage during the convocation ceremony, putting on a smile for the commissioned photographer, but his happiness at his achievement had been diminished by their absence. As families had rejoined afterward to take photos and enjoy the reception after the ceremony, Red had instead made his way past his friends and colleagues who were hugging their relatives and quickly returned his robe before driving in his midnight-blue Porsche back to his penthouse condo, both graduation gifts from his parents.

  Red had placed his diploma in his desk drawer, opened the sliding doors to his spacious patio and stared at the city lights. Despite all the material comforts he had enjoyed in his youth and the luxury grad gifts, he had felt there was something missing in his life emotionally. He had gone to bed shortly after, telling himself that the position he would be assuming in a couple of weeks’ time in his parents’ firm would keep him busy, with little time to think about anything else.

  Red had focused entirely on the business these past eight years, and his parents had bestowed upon him the role of president when they retired. He had proven his competency, they had told him, and they had every confidence in his ability to continue the Brannigan legacy.

  And he had. He was on top of all his firm’s ventures. It was just so ironic that when he had finally thought he could seriously commit to a relationship, Sofia had been the one to break it off.

  Now, a year since the breakup, Red was excited about his new investment in Parry Sound and the possibilities for the future. He was intent on focusing on his job and leisure time. Alone.

  Red left the window seat and headed to his bedroom. He was pleased with the changes he had made to it. A sturdy king-size bed with a slate headboard, extra long, with more of a cottage vibe than a Victorian one. A huge horizontal dresser had been custom-made by a local craftsman, and Red admired its rich grain and live-edge feature every time he entered the room. A sitting area by the bay window featured a pomegranate recliner with a pine-green throw and a coffee table that matched the dresser. The original wood floor gleamed under a Muskoka-themed area rug displaying loons on a lake edged with pine trees.

  Under his warm duvet, Red thought about his unexpected guest. The last thing he had expected today was to spend the evening with a lady...and one related to a friend of his. Gazing at his ice-encrusted window, he thought back to what Casson might have told him about Ronnie. He had met with Casson a couple of times during the contractual stages of the project. Red’s Toronto team was handling the venture, but Red had taken a few days off to drive to Parry Sound to catch up with his friend from university.

  He stretched out his arms and linked his hands behind his neck. He thought back to when he had met up with Casson and his wife and their new baby at Winter’s Haven after taking possession of his new house. His brow furrowed as he remembered another person who was there, a little boy Casson had introduced as his nephew... Adam? No, Andy.

  After Andy had left the room, Casson had told Red about Andy finishing his treatment, and that he’d be one of the first kids to stay at Franklin’s Resort when it opened in the New Year. With his mom, Casson’s cousin Veronica.

  Ronnie.

  Red’s heart began to pound. And he didn’t exactly know why...

  CHAPTER THREE

  RONNIE LISTENED TO the freezing rain striking her window as she changed into the guest robe she had found hanging in the luxurious en suite bathroom. As soon as she had stepped into the room earlier, she had felt that she was stepping into another century. Her gaze had immediately flown to the elaborate four-poster with its ivory lace-edged canopy panels and plush bedspread with gathered ruffle. A rich Aubusson carpet with floral accents and cream, coral, and light green hues covered much of the polished wood floor. An elegant coral wingback chair and matching ottoman were positioned in one corner by an ornate porcelain fireplace, along with a gleaming coffee table and vintage lamp. On the ceiling, an intricate rose-gold chandelier shimmered with dozens of lights.

  After Red had left, Ronnie had checked out the spacious en suite bathroom, a mix of modern and vintage, with its elegant marble and glass features, claw-foot tub and mosaic-tiled shower.

  Tightening the belt of the robe around her waist, she padded to the window, shivered at the sight of the freezing rain, and was glad they hadn’t ventured any farther. Hopefully, the temperature would rise in the morning, melt the accumulated ice on the roads and Red could drive her back to Winter’s Haven...

  Red. The name suited him. He was tall and strong. And damn good-looking. An image of the way his broad chest and shoulders had filled out his plaid shirt, and his long legs in jeans, popped into her mind... It reminded Ronnie of a drawing of Paul Bunyan in one of her childhood books. She wondered if anybody called him Big Red...

  What silly musings, she thought, shaking her head. Why was she even conjuring up such images? She turned off the chandelier and switched on the bedside lamp before shifting the pillows and slipping under the covers. She sighed. The bed was heavenly, and she did feel like a queen. She’d have to recount her adventure to Andy when he returned from visiting his father in a few days.

  Ronnie’s smile faded as she recalled the shock of Andy’s diagnosis, their lives instantly changing, the harrowing trips back and forth to the Hospital for Sick Children, Toronto’s SickKids, from their home in Gravenhurst, the building tension between her and her husband and the final blow: her husband, Peter, “needing a break” and moving out, leaving Ronnie with the bulk of the responsibility.

  He announced months later that he had been seeing a
nurse called Meredith, and that she had accepted his proposal to become Mrs. Walsh after his divorce. What had surprised Ronnie the most during this time was that Meredith, to her credit, had encouraged Peter to devote more time to his paternal responsibilities. As a result, Andy was now spending alternating weeks and every second weekend with his dad. And new stepmother.

  Ronnie turned off the lamp and listened to the tinkle of ice pellets against the bay window. She felt safe and cocooned under the bedspread. Protected, just like she’d been when Red had carried her to his truck...

  Her pulse quickened at the memory of her head pressing against his chest as she tried to shield herself from the slanting freezing rain. A coil of heat spiraled through her, and she brought her palms up to her cheeks. What on earth was happening to her? Surely she wasn’t allowing herself to be physically affected by a virtual stranger who had swept her up in his arms for no other reason than to bring her to safety?

  Her body was betraying her. Responding to a man’s touch—no, to the memory of his touch, as if she were starved for a man’s caress...

  Stop! The last thing she wanted—or needed—was a man’s touch. She had come out of a broken marriage. She had continued handling her parental responsibilities independently. Why would she get herself entangled again? And what if—and she prayed it would never happen—Andy got sick again? She couldn’t take the chance that whoever she was with would not be capable of sticking it out through the tough—and scary—process of treatment. She wouldn’t do that to Andy. Or herself. They had been abandoned once. She would not allow it to happen again.

  Ronnie inhaled and exhaled slowly a few times. Her mind knew what it wanted. And didn’t want. It was her body that was waffling. Reacting to a tall, strong, dashingly handsome Viking type with Irish eyes and red-gold hair that curled this way and that, and scruff the same color.