Illegitimate Tycoon

 
          
For
as long as
JANETTE KENNY
can
remember, plots and characters have taken up residence in her head. Her
parents, both voracious readers, read her the classics when she was a child.
That gave birth to a deep love for literature, and allowed her to travel to
exotic locales—those found between the covers of books. Janette’s artist mother
encouraged her yen to write. As an adolescent she began creating cartoons
featuring her dad as the hero, with plots that focused on the misadventures on
their family farm, and she stuffed them in the nightly newspaper for him to
find. To her frustration, her sketches paled in comparison with her captions.

 
          
Her
first real writing began with fan fiction, taking favourite TV shows and
writing episodes and endings she loved—happily ever after, of course. In her
junior year of high school she told her literature teacher she intended to
write for a living one day. His advice? Pursue the dream, but don’t quit the
day job.

 
          
Though
she dabbled with articles, she didn’t fully embrace her dream to write novels
until years later, when she was a busy cosmetologist making a name for herself
in her own salon. That was when she decided to write the type of stories she’d
been reading—romances.

 
          
Once
the writing bug bit, an incurable passion consumed her to create stories and
people them. Still, it was seven more years and that many novels before she saw
her first historical romance published. Now that she’s also writing
contemporary romances for Mills & Boon, she finally knows that a full-time
career in writing is closer to reality.

 
          
Janette
shares her home and free time with a chow/shepherd-mix pup she rescued from the
pound, who aspires to be a lap dog. She invites you to visit her website at
www.jankenny.com. She loves to hear from readers—e-mail her at
[email protected]

 
          
THE
crush of beautiful people in this small town on the French Riviera was a treat
for the senses, but only one beauty captured Rafael da Souza’s attention. She
always had from the first moment he had met her in London.

 
          
His
desire for her had never waned during the five years they’d been married.
Nothing would ever change that.

 
          
He
knew the exact moment strikingly beautiful supermodel Leila Santiago walked
into a room, even if he was already prepared. And he was certainly ready for
this reunion, body and soul!

 
          
Even
before they had married, they’d mutually agreed to wait before starting their
family. It had been important to both of them that they focus on their careers
first. That they enjoyed life and especially each other.

 
          
And
they had.

 
          
Well,
almost …

 
          
Rafael’s
brow pulled as he looked back on what was now the fifth year of their marriage.
He could count the times he’d been with Leila over this past year on one hand.
Her career and his had taken quantum leaps, bigger than either of them could
have imagined, but such success came at a terrible price for it had pulled them
both in different directions.

 
          
Leila
had been involved on two whirlwind global tours, her beautiful face splashed on
glossy magazine covers around the world. Rafael’s time had volleyed between
being technical adviser on one film and developing a cutting-edge mobile phone
device that was light-years ahead of the competition.

 
          
He
and Leila had only managed to find one fleeting weekend to spend together in
Aruba following a photo shoot there. Moments alone, undisturbed by their busy
careers, had always been precious between them, and although Rafael had tried
to talk to Leila about his desire to start a family, the time had gone by too
quickly.

 
          
“We’ll
talk about it at the film festival in France,” she’d promised in Aruba as she’d
planted hot kisses across the taut planes of his belly. And then she’d taken
his mind off family and his dream with bold caresses and long leisurely kisses
that he’d been starving for.

 
          
They’d
ended up in bed, arms and legs entwined. Tongues dueling in carnal love. Bodies
thrusting together in the most passionate sex he’d ever had with her.

 
          
When
he was buried deep in her, clutching her to his heart, he felt whole, and they’d
both gotten lost in loving the night away. And then their idyll had been over.
Rafael had left with the rising sun after Leila had dropped the bombshell that
she wouldn’t reschedule an upcoming shoot in order to accompany him to his
brother Nathaniel’s wedding. He’d been too angry and hurt to do more than offer
a clipped, “Fine, I’ll see you in France.”

 
          
Now,
he certainly intended to do more than
talk
about starting a family. They would have an entire week together in France.
While their days would be busy with promotions and such, their nights would be
devoted to each other.

 
          
His
heart warmed at the thought of having children with Leila, of having a home
with her that wasn’t empty or flat.

 
          
He’d
never had that in his entire life. His mother had loved him, yes, but she had
always held at least two jobs at a time to support them, and she had worked
incredibly long hours. He had hardly seen her as a child.

 
          
As
for a home, their small flat in Wolfestone might have been the place Rafael had
been raised, but the memories there were painful, suffocating. Rafael had felt
only freedom when he had left its cloying grasp. He had moved to a modern
apartment in London and then, when he had married Leila, they had bought a
luxurious penthouse in Rio, far away from the darkness of Rafael’s past.

 
          
But
though this was his and Leila’s residence, it still lacked that life and energy
of a loving family that he had felt missing for so long.

 
          
Rafael
wanted a real
casa
with land where
his children could play and make good memories to last a lifetime. A place they
could call home, a place they’d feel safe.
Loved
.
Everything his aristocratic father had denied him.

 
          
Leila
knew how much this meant to him and she had shared his dream of having a
family.

 
          
And,
if they were very lucky, they’d realize that dream soon.

 
          
Now,
as he saw Leila approach and close the distance separating them, his gaze
hungrily licked over her like flames on dry tinder, consuming, scorching. It
was always like this, the gripping desire that engulfed him whenever they were
reunited.

 
          
As
for his heart.

 
          
His
heart warmed with emotions that seemed too huge to imagine. He was afraid to
look away, to blink, for fear he’d awaken to discover that what he had with her
had just been a fantasy.

 
          
She
was absolutely gorgeous.

 
          
And
she was his wife.
His
.

 
          
Under
the rapid-fire flash of cameras, she strode down La Croisette with her
million-dollar smile in place. He knew she wasn’t focused on any one person or
thing, that her stunning smile was for her legion of adoring fans.

 
          
She
knew how to make love to the camera, and the lens loved her. And why wouldn’t
it?

 
          
She
was a fantasy brought to life. The woman every man dreamed of making love to,
the woman every woman wished she could emulate.

 
          
Perfection.
Seductive
perfection.

 
          
Her
mass of golden hair was caught up in a tumble of messy curls that framed a face
that had graced every major magazine since she was thirteen. But that gamine
child that had launched her career was gone, replaced by a sensual woman who’d
worked hard to make a perfectly toned body seem more desirable than voluptuous
curves.

 
          
Her
crimson dress caressed her upthrust breasts and gentle bow of her hips in the
warm salt-tinged breeze. He knew every move she made was carefully
orchestrated, right down to the metered strides of her long lithe legs
supported by killer stilettos. Strong flawless legs that would wrap around his
naked flanks in the throes of passion.

 
          
Their
March rendezvous had reminded him just how much he’d missed her this past
hectic year. How he’d taken for granted the exact feel of her silken skin
against his fingers and mouth, her erotic scent that clung to him and held
tight, her sultry passion that drove him wild in bed and out.

 
          
He
caught the slight hesitancy in her eyes before she stopped before him, her
palms firm on his chest in a familiar way that had been captured on film a
thousand times. A touch that left him trembling inside, remembering all that
was good between them. All the passion, the pure joy, the bliss of shutting out
the world and lying wrapped in each other’s arms.

 
          
Her
gaze made a slow sweep up to his face, and he felt his own lips pulling into a
smile. His hands settled on her trim waist, firm and clearly possessive. Her
soft lips beckoned him and he met her halfway for their customary kiss of
greeting, but the moment was gone before he could savor it.

 
          
Her
scent stayed with him though, a provocative perfume that teased the senses.
That promised much more. This would be the new fragrance she was here to
promote in conjunction with the release of the film of the same name,
Bare Souls
.

 
          
That
certainly did not describe them!

 
          
For
as close as they were with each other’s bodies, they had both kept their own
demons securely locked away since the day they’d met. He’d never told her how
being William Wolfe’s unwanted bastard had scarred him. She’d never divulged
everything pertaining to the near disastrous bout of anorexia she’d suffered at
a young age. But he suspected she was still haunted by that episode in her
life, and he wondered now if she’d truly fully recovered from the disease.

 
          
Those
big hazel eyes that had captured the heart of the world at thirteen locked on
his and his concerns fled. For a heartbeat it was difficult to breathe.
Impossible to think.

 
          
Then
in a blink the look was gone, replaced with the seductive glint of a woman. The
look that had men around the globe drooling after her.