The Tycoon's Delicious Distraction. Maggie Cox

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      Hal was having an early-morning cup of coffee with his sister when, true to her word, Kit Blessington arrived at the agreed time. Sam had dropped in on her way to work, determined to meet Hal’s new hired help as soon as possible, so she’d told him, her cat-like green eyes formidably serious. He knew it mattered to her a great deal that the woman passed muster because she adored her ‘little’ brother. He might resent her acting like his mother from time to time, but he didn’t deny it felt good to have her unstinting regard and concern. Especially when the only communication he’d had from his father since the accident was a curt e-mail that had included the line, ‘Didn’t I always tell you that pride comes before a fall?’

      Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you? Hal had thought bitterly.

      Tall and slender, with a gamine short hairstyle, his sister Sam looked as chic and sophisticated as always that morning in an elegant trouser suit. When Kit arrived the younger woman’s bohemian, far more relaxed mode of dress couldn’t have been more of a contrast. When he opened the door to let her in he saw that today her glorious red hair was precariously arranged up in a loose topknot that suggested it might easily topple at any moment, such must be the weight of the waving strands. Wearing a mint-green baggy knitted sweater beneath a man’s battered tan flying jacket, along with a pair of slim-fitting caramel cords, she was transporting what looked to be a fairly hefty brown suitcase.

      Hal immediately told her to put it down before she dislocated her shoulder, adding, ‘What have you got in there? The kitchen sink?’

      Flushing, she retorted, ‘You did say that this was a live-in position? All I’ve brought with me are the strictest essentials, Mr Treverne.’

      ‘Well, clearly they must indeed be essential if you’re trying to lug that beast around,’ he commented dryly.

      Sam stepped up beside him and once Kit had sensibly lowered her suitcase down onto the parquet floor she leaned towards the younger woman to shake her hand.

      ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms Blessington. You’ve arrived just in the nick of time. Henry’s got to get to grips with using his crutches today, so your presence will undoubtedly be appreciated. I’m Samantha Whyte, by the way—Henry’s sister.’

      ‘Hello. It’s nice to meet you too, Ms Whyte. It’s good to know that your brother has a close relative living nearby. It must be very reassuring for him in light of what he’s coping with.’

      ‘I don’t live that near, but I’m close enough to call in whenever I can to check that he’s okay. I have to warn you—Hal doesn’t take to being confined very easily. Hal is what family and friends call him, by the way. He’s apt to be like a bear with a sore head most days.’

      ‘Do you two mind not talking about me as if I wasn’t here?’ Biting back an angry expletive, Hal violently reversed his wheelchair and headed back towards the kitchen.

      ‘Don’t mind him,’ he heard Sam say soothingly behind him to Kit. ‘As I said, he’s a bit more irritable than usual since he broke his leg, but—’

      ‘Don’t you dare tell her that underneath my tetchy, disagreeable exterior I’m a veritable pussycat!’ he yelled. ‘Because I’m certainly not!’

      His heart thumping hard inside his chest, Hal steered the wheelchair into the kitchen and straight away moved across to the oblong glass dining table to retrieve his rapidly cooling mug of coffee. He knew he was behaving like the worst bore in the world but he couldn’t seem to help it. Tonight, before bed, he might just have to succumb to taking those sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed. Right now he’d probably take the strongest ones he could lay his hands on if they would help him get at least an hour of unbroken sleep. ‘A bear with a sore head’ didn’t come anywhere near to describing the infuriated way he felt.

      ‘...and you’ll need to consult with Hal’s doctor today, when you take him to the hospital for his check-up, to get some advice on how best to help him.’ Sam’s voice carried clearly as she and Kit came down the hallway towards the kitchen. ‘His knee joint and muscles were damaged when he broke his femur, and there’s a certain process you have to know. Don’t worry—it’s not difficult. I think it’s called the RICE technique, which stands for—’

      ‘Rest, ice, compression and elevation,’ Kit cut in quietly. ‘I’ve been studying quite a comprehensive first-aid book since I was told that Mr Treverne had a broken femur. I’ve also spoken to one of my trainers at the centre where I took my first-aid courses.’

      She’d been studying a first-aid book? Even though he was irritated at being discussed as though he were a recalcitrant schoolboy who’d complained about having to miss his school’s sports day because he’d contracted chicken pox, Hal owned to feeling mildly surprised that his temporary employee would go to such lengths even before she knew if she had the job or not.

      ‘I’m impressed.’ Sam’s voice contained the suggestion of a smile.

      ‘Please don’t be. My intention is simply to do a good job. It’s no more than I would normally do when the person I’ve been hired to help is either recovering from an illness or an injury, Ms Whyte.’

      ‘Please—call me Sam. At any rate, I’ve spoken to Hal’s consultant about talking to you, so he’s expecting you to ask.’ They came into the kitchen. ‘You can also check with the nurse who comes in once a week to visit him. Oh, and one more thing—there’s also a cleaner who comes in twice a week to give the place a good going over. Mrs Baker is her name. So you won’t have to spend too much time doing housework. My brother’s welfare is your main priority. If he wants you to spend the entire day watching films or listening to music with him, then please don’t hesitate.’

      ‘Are you quite finished? Only I’m beginning to feel like some expendable extra in a hospital soap opera!’ Scowling, Hal returned his mug of coffee to the table with a heavy slam, so that the now tepid beverage slopped over the lip and splashed onto his arm.

      Without preamble, Kit moved across to the sink at lightning speed and grabbed the kitchen cloth that was folded over the tap. Then she hurried over to him, expertly dabbing the cloth on his exposed forearm and drying the spill. It was fortunate that he’d rolled up the sleeves of his cashmere sweater earlier, he thought wryly, because the blue was a favourite of his. But he guessed that, if required, his efficient new helper would no doubt have a handy solution for removing coffee stains from delicate fabrics too.

      ‘Thanks,’ he murmured when she had finished the clean-up.

      ‘You’re welcome.’

      Her blue-eyed smile was fleeting, but with a jolt of surprise Hal straight away intuited that when she smiled properly—for instance when and if something pleased her—the gesture would light up her face and render her almost bewitching...

      ‘Can I make you a fresh cup of coffee, Mr Treverne?’ she asked.

      Briefly catching his sister’s amused glance over her shoulder, Hal shrugged. ‘Yes—why not? I guess I’ll be even more like a bear with a sore head if I don’t have my usual quota of caffeine.’

      ‘How do you take it?’

      ‘Black with one sugar. You should make one for yourself too.’

      ‘Thanks—I will. By the way, what time do you need to get to the hospital for your appointment?’

      ‘Ten o’clock.’

      ‘Of course. I remember that now.’ The redhead gave him another fleeting smile. ‘That gives us some time to have a general chat about things. For instance, you’ll need to tell me what car I’m driving. Is it big enough to accommodate your wheelchair? Because if you’re not used to using your crutches yet you’re going to need it.’

      Not wanting to contemplate the possibility of not being immediately expert at using crutches, Hal was terse. ‘If it should transpire that I need the wheelchair—and I very much doubt it—then no doubt