Page 27 of The Tycoon's Ultimate Conquest
Art knew that this was a weakness. In fact, sleeping with her at all had been a weakness. Since when hadanywoman taken precedence over common sense and, more importantly, work?
And what happened now?
Art knew whatshouldhappen. He should walk away. He should walk away and keep on walking until he hit London and the reality of his life there. He should put an immediate end to this charade and conduct whatever business needed conducting through his lawyers and accountants. The land belonged to him and tiptoeing around that stark fact was a matter of choice rather than necessity.
Okay, so maybe if she got stuck in and took a stand, the community would view his development as a blot on their landscape and react accordingly to the newcomers buying properties, but that wouldn’t last. Within six months everything would settle down and life would carry on as normal.
His presence here and his willingness to do his best to ease the process would bear testimony to his capacity for goodwill.
It would also be useful because, in due course, he would be putting in another planning application and a hostile community would make that more difficult.
But in the end he would get what he wanted because he always did.
And, in the meantime, this...was a complication.
‘What are you thinking?’ Rose asked drowsily, opening her eyes to look directly at him. ‘No,’ she continued, ‘I know what you’re thinking.’
‘Mind reader, are you?’ Art smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. He cupped her naked breast with his hand and marvelled at how nicely it fitted. Not too big, not too small.
‘You’re thinking that it’s time you went back to your bedroom and you’d be right because it’s late and I want to go to sleep.’
‘Is that the sound of you kicking me out of your bedroom?’ he murmured, moving in to nibble her ear and then licking the side of her neck so that she squirmed and giggled softly.
‘It’s the sound of a woman who needs her beauty sleep.’ She wriggled away from him so that she could head for the bathroom.
‘But what,’ Art heard himself ask, ‘does a red-blooded man do if he wakes in the early hours of the morning and needs his woman by his side?’
Rose stilled but when she answered her voice was still light and teasing. ‘He goes downstairs for a glass of milk?’
‘Wrong answer.’ Art heaved himself into a sitting position and pulled her towards him. ‘I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but let’s spend the night together...and, by the way... I’d like it if you called me Art. Not Arthur...not Arturo. Art.’
CHAPTER SIX
ARTGAZEDATthe vast swathes of empty land around him. Open fields. The very same open fields that had confronted him on day one when he had arrived with a plan and a deadline.
Slight difference now. The plan and the deadline had both taken a battering. He’d slept with Rose over a week and a half ago and even as his head had urged him to turn his back and walk away, his body had argued against that course of action and had won.
They’d shared a bed every night since then. He couldn’t see her without wanting her. It was insane but whatever attraction kept pulling him towards her, it was bigger than all the reserves of willpower at his disposal.
And the land...
Art strolled to the very spot where the protesters had set up camp. There were some stragglers but most had left. He’d been busy arguing his corner whilst making sure not to stand on any soapboxes bellowing his opinions. He’d listened to everything that had been said and had quickly sussed that, however fervent they were about the abstract notion of the land being developed, when it came down to basics, the offer of those very same heartless developers doing some good for their community had won the day.
Financial assistance for the primary school; a fund towards the local library, which also served as a meeting place for most of the senior citizens; playing fields to be included on some of his land which, as it happened, suited Art very well indeed, bearing in mind his future plans for the site.
Art had advised them to contact the team of lawyers working for DC Logistics.
‘There’s always a solution when it comes to sorting problems,’ he had asserted, safe in the knowledge that they would find no hindrance to their requests. Not only was he happy to ease the situation but he was positively pleased to be able to do so because he had grown fond of all of them, had seen for himself, first-hand, how strongly they felt about the land.
In London, community spirit of that kind was noticeably absent and he’d been impressed by what he’d seen.
And, crucially, Rose had more or less conceded that it was the best solution because, like it or not, those tractors and cranes would move in sooner or later.
His job here was done and satisfactorily so.
He could be pleased with himself. He could start thinking about step two. He knew in his gut that there would be no obstacles in his way and step two had always been top of the agenda. Art might have been cynical when it came to the romantic notion of love, but familial love, discovered in the most unexpected of places, had settled in his heart and filled the space there.
He’d thought outside the box and it had paid off. Now, as he looked at his land, he realised that thinking outside the box and getting what he’d wanted had come at an unexpected cost.
