Rescued by the Guarded Tycoon Read online

  So you noticed a hunky guy, her inner voice whispered nonchalantly in her ear. It means you’re normal. Nothing to get worked up about; it’s not like the Viking is out to conquer you...

  Ronnie shivered. She pulled up the covers around her face but couldn’t get warm. She considered getting out of bed to look for a blanket but another series of shivers kept her huddled under the sheets.

  And then she started at the sudden knock on her door.

  “Excuse me for bothering you,” came Red’s husky voice. “I just wanted to let you know that some power lines have collapsed from the weight of the ice. Electricity’s out. And you’re on the north side of the house.”

  Ronnie blinked.

  “Ronnie, did you hear me? Are you awake?”

  “Yes, I heard you,” she called out, sitting up. “Now what do we do?”

  “Well,” he drawled, “I can see only two options at this point—huddle together under some blankets, or make a roaring fire in the salon...”

  Ronnie knew he was joking, but the image of the two of them under a blanket made her pulse jump. She cleared her throat. “I... I’ll opt for the fire.”

  “Right. Okay, then. I’ll wait here until you’re ready to come down. My cell phone is charged. I can hand it to you now if you need a light...”

  “Sure, thanks.” Ronnie managed to find her way to the door without tripping or bumping into anything. She opened the door a few inches and in the bright light of his phone, Ronnie’s gaze flew over Red’s tousled hair and quirky smile. He had changed into a plaid shirt and a blue-gray cardigan, and in his other hand he held a green cardigan.

  “I thought you might appreciate this also,” he said. He held out both hands, and Ronnie realized that she’d have to open the door wider. She pulled back to ensure her robe was wrapped snugly around her before doing so. Somewhat subconsciously, she reached for both items. “Thanks,” she murmured again and closed the door. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  It was going to be a long night. No power, no heat, and instead of a good night’s sleep—which she had just been about to embark on—she would be sitting by the fireplace, trying to keep warm next to a guy she knew next to nothing about, other than the fact that he was a friend of her cousin’s and that he obviously made a good living, being able to afford a place like this.

  She quickly changed back into her clothes and then glanced at the cardigan. Why not? The chill had already settled into the room, and she imagined the roomy salon downstairs would be even colder until Red got the fire going.

  A few moments later, she headed toward the door; then, as an afterthought, she grabbed her bag of books. If the fire was bright enough, she might be able to read a bit, instead of being forced to make awkward conversation with Red.

  Ronnie handed the cell phone to him and he nodded, his gaze sweeping over her. She followed him down the winding staircase and into the spacious living area. She was relieved to see a healthy supply of wood stacked in an alcove next to the fireplace. “Oh, good, I won’t freeze to death tonight,” she said, hugging her arms.

  Red paused as he was arranging the logs in the grate to cock his head at her. “I wouldn’t let that happen, Miss Ver—Ronnie. Casson would have my head.” He gazed at her and looked like he was going to add something, but then he gave a rueful smile and concentrated on adding bits of kindling and newspaper to the pile. “Good thing I made sure it was in working order when I bought the place,” he said, lighting a long fireplace match.

  In minutes the fire was crackling and roaring. Red had turned off his cell phone light, and the illumination was bright enough to read by, but Ronnie sat in one of the high-back recliners flanking the fireplace and just stared at the flames, mesmerized. Her heart twinged at the thought of Andy, and like other times when he was away, she felt like a part of her was missing. A loud crack diverted her attention and she rose in alarm.

  Red strode to a nearby window to peer through the ice pellets hitting the pane. “Looks like some branches have snapped off the big oak. The weather’s gotten worse. And it’s windy as hell. It’ll be a nightmare tomorrow...” He returned to sit by the fire. “Well, I don’t know about you, Ronnie, but I’m not sleepy at all. How about a glass of wine and we can chat a bit?”

  * * *

  Red had to stifle a smile at the way Ronnie’s eyes had expanded at his suggestion. She blinked for a few seconds and then she shrugged. “Sure—why not?”

  “Red or white?”

  “I prefer white, thanks.”

  “I won’t take it personally.” He laughed, and after a couple of seconds, her frown disappeared and she smirked.

  “Okay, Ronnie, I’m leaving you to keep the home fire burning while I take care of your order.”

  “Um...okay.” She looked back at the crackling fire, and for a moment Red sensed a wistfulness in her profile, or maybe even sadness. Was she missing her son? She looked so petite, leaning forward to warm her hands. She had let her ponytail down, and her dark hair now fell to her shoulders. The glow of the flames danced across her features, and Red found himself holding his breath for a moment. Reluctant to let her turn and catch him staring, he turned on his cell phone light and strode to the wine cabinet in the kitchen.

  As he gathered a tray, glasses and wine, he thought about the details that had come back to him after Ronnie had gone to the guest room. He had taken a quick shower, changed into a robe and stretched out on his bed, not bothering to pull back the covers. He had returned to the conversation he had had briefly with Casson after Andy had left the room. Casson had expressed his displeasure with Ronnie’s husband, who had been unable to cope with the situation, and had gotten his own apartment.

  “The poor guy wasn’t getting enough attention,” Casson had muttered sarcastically. “Well, Ronnie doesn’t need a guy like that. She has enough on her plate, dealing with a very sick little boy.” He had gone on to say that he loved his cousin and godson and that when Andy had finished his treatment, he was going to suggest to Ronnie that she move to Parry Sound to be closer to him and Justine and the baby they were expecting.

  Ronnie had been manager of Casson’s hardware store in Gravenhurst, and he would offer her a position as Provincial Marketing Manager, which she could do from any location. She was more than qualified, having graduated with a master’s in Business Administration and Marketing, and the bonus was that their kids could grow up together. She needed family to be around her and Andy, Casson had said, emotion catching in his throat. And when Franklin’s Resort was built, they would be among the first to stay there for a week’s rest and relaxation.

  Red had been seeing Sofia at that time, and the news about Andy’s illness had made him sad, thinking about how devastated he would feel if Marco were undergoing treatment for a life-threatening illness. Red and Casson had moved on to other points of conversation, but after he had left to drive back to Toronto, Red hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Andy. And his mother. Casson had pointed to a picture of both of them from when Andy had turned two. The boy was standing up on a chair at the kitchen table. His little cheeks were puffed up, about to blow out the cake candles, and Ronnie was standing behind his chair, her hands around his waist to ensure he didn’t fall. She was beaming at Andy, and Red remembered thinking what a lovely woman she was.

  His memory sharpening, he recalled that in the photo her hair was styled in a pixie cut, which suited her heart-shaped face. Now she had let it grow out. Either way, she was a beauty. A wholesome, natural beauty...

  Red started as another branch clattered onto the roof. He forced himself to suspend his daydreaming and fixed a plate with a variety of cheeses and crackers. When he returned to the living room, he set down the tray on a small table between the recliners.

  He poured the wine and handed Ronnie a glass. “Cheers,” he said, grinning. “Might as well make the best of this adventure.”

  “Cheers,” Ronnie said, giving him a curious look as they clinked glasses. “Is your disposition always this cheerful in the midst of environmental adversity?”

  He burst out laughing. “Nobody’s ever asked me such a question. Hmm.” He stroked his jaw. “I generally like to stay positive in adverse environmental conditions and other trying situations,” he said. He twirled his glass and met her gaze, amused that she was still looking at him as if he were some incomprehensible species from another planet.

  “Are you following some kind of Eastern philosophy or something like that?” she said, genuine curiosity in her voice. “Surely you can’t stay positive all the time...”

  “Well, now, to answer your first question, I do occasionally meditate,” he said. “And as for the second, I have been known to slip into the dark world of negativity when my hockey team is losing zero to three.”

  “So you’re a hockey fanatic,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

  “You mean hockey fan,” he corrected. “Go, Leafs, go!”

  “A Toronto fan...” She smiled. “Just like my son.”

  “Since I was a kid. Forever a faithful fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast.

  Her lips quirked. “A fan with astounding alliteration ability.”

  He chuckled. “And you’re a lady with a lovely literary lexicon.”

  She laughed. “Okay, enough. I don’t think I can top that.” She took a sip of her wine and then set it down as the pelting against the windows intensified. “If this freezing rain keeps up, you’ll have your own skating rink in your driveway.”

  Red saw her brows knit together. “Are you worried about your son?” he said gently.

  Her gaze flew to his. “How do you...? Of co
urse. Casson told you about Andy...”

  She looked at him with narrowed eyes, almost as if she were speculating how much he knew about her personal life.

  “No, I’m not worried about him. At the moment, that is.” She glanced at her watch. “By now, he’s been fed, bathed, read to and tucked into bed.” She shifted her gaze to the fire for a few moments and then suddenly turned toward Red again. “Do you have any kids?”

  Red’s eyebrows went up. Ronnie was treading in sensitive waters. The relationship that he and Marco had shared had felt close to a father-son relationship. In fact, they had done what most dads seemed to do with their kids: play sports and games, go to the park, read, help with homework, go fishing... The thought that he wasn’t doing any of those activities anymore struck him hard. Again.

  A year may have passed since the breakup with Sofia, but his feelings about Marco hadn’t dulled or changed. He missed the lad. A lot. And he vowed to himself every night that he would never cause himself this kind of grief again... Realizing that Ronnie was waiting for him to respond, he shook his head. “No, I don’t have any children,” he said with feigned lightness. “Or a wife.”

  Something flickered in Ronnie’s eyes... Was she curious whether or not he was seeing anybody? “Or significant other,” he added with a twist of his lips. “You know the saying—once burned, twice shy. To be more accurate, I’ve been scorched...”

  Ronnie’s eyebrows tilted slightly. “Sorry to hear that,” she murmured, and turned to gaze into the fire.

  “And yourself?” He might as well ask, since she had delved into his personal life.

  She turned swiftly to face him again. “I went through a few flames myself,” she said, lifting her chin. “Things have cooled down though, and I intend to keep it that way...”

  “So does that mean you’re with somebody but are giving him the cold shoulder?” he said wryly. “Or are you freezing out any and all would-be suitors?”

  She frowned, then laughed curtly. “They’re not exactly knocking at my door.”

  “Their loss,” he heard himself say, and watched as a coral flush bloomed on Ronnie’s cheeks.

  “My gain.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Andy is my main focus, and his welfare and happiness are all that matter to me. I don’t want—or need—any distractions from people who look like men but who are really needy little boys that can’t cope when your attention strays from them...” She shifted and looked as if the cardigan she was wearing was making her itch. Ouch. He could almost envision the protective enclosure around Ronnie. With barbed wire on top...

  “Casson had mentioned something about you moving to Parry Sound...” he said casually while placing another log in the fire. “So you’re staying at Winter’s Haven?”

  “For now.” Ronnie nodded. “I want to take my time looking around before I buy a house. I’ll probably wait until spring. After all the snow is gone.” She fixed him with a curious stare. “So what made you buy this place? It’s rather large for just one person...”

  “It is, isn’t it? I’m looking forward to designing some new features and redesigning other areas. This is an art designated home, or ‘heritage home,’ so there are laws as to what can or can’t be done. I just moved in two weeks ago. And I plan to entertain eventually—that is, if I can manage to make any friends,” he said, chuckling. “I’d like to hold old-fashioned garden parties in the summer, skating parties on the pond in the winter—”

  “There’s a pond?” There was a note of awe in her voice.

  He nodded. “Like something out of Currier & Ives.”

  “So you bought this place because...?” She gestured around her.

  “First, because I have this thing about Victorian homes. When I was a kid, I always thought they looked enchanting, with their turrets and gables. I imagined all sorts of secret rooms and underground tunnels that led to caves in the hillside. I wanted to build a house like that when I grew up. And second, because I fell in love with the area when I first came to visit Casson after he got in touch with my firm in Toronto.”

  “Your firm?” Ronnie’s brow furrowed momentarily before her eyes widened. “Do—do you mean the firm that designed—” She broke off, emotion catching in her throat.

  “Franklin’s Resort,” he finished. “And I’m looking forward to the grand opening...”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RONNIE REALIZED HER mouth was gaping. She closed it promptly and tried to process what Red just told her. Discovering that her rescuer’s architectural firm had been the one chosen to fulfill Casson’s dream—and that he would be at the grand opening... It was all too much. “So you’re Red Brannigan...of Brannigan Architects International...” she said wonderingly.

  “The one and only,” he chuckled. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m named after my father, so I’m officially Redmond Brannigan II. But since everyone called him Redmond, I became Red. And to tell you the truth, I much prefer it. Redmond sounds kind of stuffy, don’t you think?”

  Ronnie just shrugged, at a loss for words.

  “Although ‘Red’ and my glorious mop of hair did leave me open to some childhood teasing,” he said, his mouth twitching. “I remember that during an art lesson in grade three, a new kid in my class called Ivan started teasing me about my hair when the teacher was distracted. He called me ‘Carrottop Four-Eyes’—not the most original of insults—and then crossed the line when he added, ‘Your mom and dad must be ugly carrottops too.’” Red’s eyes glinted with amusement. “He hurt my feelings, of course, and I did what my inner warrior instinctively told me to do: I dipped my paintbrush in my jar of orange paint and managed to give his blond hair some nice highlights.” He laughed, shaking his head.

  Ronnie couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “That must have landed you in hot water.”

  “Indeed.” He grinned, showing perfect teeth. “We were both sent to the principal’s office immediately. But seeing the look on everyone’s faces in the class—some of them had been insulted by Ivan the bully, as well—made it all worth it. In fact, I think I remember our teacher trying to hide a smile. I have a feeling that she and others might have been glad that he had gotten his just deserts.”

  “Did he plan his revenge?”

  “Actually, he left me alone after that. Which is what bullies often do when you stand up to them. Not that I condone what I did,” he added wryly.

  Ronnie pictured Red as an eight-year-old with his russet hair and glasses, and couldn’t help smiling. He must have been a cute kid...and an adorable baby, with a head of soft, reddish brown curls...

  “What are you smiling about?” He fixed her with a piercing gaze.

  Ronnie hesitated for a moment. “I was imagining you as an eight-year-old. And as a baby.” She let out a chuckle. “I’m sure you were cute back then.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Are you implying I’m no longer cute?”

  Ronnie felt her cheeks begin to ignite. “I—I didn’t mean... I mean, I wasn’t... I—”

  “Okay, sorry, Ronnie.” He leaned toward her, grinning. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I don’t expect you to comment on my current state of cuteness or lack thereof.”

  The heat in Ronnie’s cheeks intensified. The crackling of the fire seemed to synchronize with the sparks dancing along her nerve endings. With the darkness around them, with only the light of the flames illuminating them both, it felt as if she and Red were in the spotlight like two actors in a play, his body so close that his energy was palpable. He was looking at her squarely, his leprechaun eyes glinting mischievously from only about a foot away, the firelight flickering over the strong lines of his face. He was close enough for her to reach out and run her fingers through his—

  She blinked and cleared her throat. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call you Ugly Carrottop Four-Eyes,” she replied lightly. “I only see two eyes...”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smiled. “How about you? I mean, were you teased as a child? I can’t imagine that you had anything to be teased about...”

  His eyes swept over her so quickly that Ronnie wondered if she had imagined it...