Kiernan McAllister’s wet hair, the colour of just-brewed coffee, was curling at the tips. The stubble on his face accentuated the hard, masculine lines of his features.
The out-of-the-storm look of his hair and his being unshaven gave him a distinctly roguish look, and despite his state of undress he might have been a pirate, relishing his next conquest, or a highwayman about to draw his sword.
His eyes were a shade of silver that added to her sense that he could be dangerous in the most tantalizing of ways. In the pictures she had seen of him his eyes had intrigued, with a faint light at the back of them that she had interpreted as faintly mischievous—as if all his incredible successes in the business world was nothing more than a big game and it was a game that he was winning.
But of course that was before the accident where his brother-in-law had been killed.
There was the difference. Now Kiernan McAllister’s eyes had something in them as shattered as glass, cool, a barrier that he did not want penetrated by someone looking for a story.
In that moment, Stacy knew he would turn her down flat if she requested an interview.
Interview with a Tycoon
Cara Colter
www.millsandboon.co.uk
CARA COLTER lives in British Columbia with her partner, Rob, and eleven horses. She has three grown children and a grandson. She is a recent recipient of an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award in the Love and Laughter category. Cara loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her or learn more about her on her Facebook page through her website: www.cara-colter.com.
To all those readers
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Contents
STACY MURPHY WALKER’S heart was beating way too fast. She wondered, gripping the steering wheel of her compact car tighter, how long a heart could beat this fast before it finally calmed itself out of pure exhaustion.
Or exploded, her mind, with its tendency to be overly imaginative, filled in helpfully.
But, still, she was entirely aware the slipping of her tires on the icy mountain roads was not solely responsible for the too-fast beating of her heart.
No, it was the sheer audacity of what she was doing.
Bearding the lion in his den.
A bronze name plaque, McAllister—in other words, the lion—set in a high stone fence, tasteful and easy to miss, told her she had arrived. Now what? She turned into the driveway but stopped before tackling the steep upward incline.