Reunion with the Brooding Millionaire, page 1
The Kinley Legacy
From business to forever!
The Kinley company has been the prestige brand in British fashion for more than a century, but a series of bad investments has left the coffers nearly bare and the company in need of a miracle.
Now, to right the wrongs of their parents and save the Kinley name and legacy, the estranged Kinley siblings—Jonathan, Olivia and Caleb—will have to set aside their differences to come together and show the world what “family” really means.
Escape to the Cotswolds in Jonathan’s story:
Reunion with the Brooding Millionaire
Available now!
And prepare to embark on an adventure in London and a holiday in Lake Como in Olivia’s and Caleb’s stories
Coming soon from Harlequin Romance!
Dear Reader,
Welcome to The Kinley Legacy! I hope you enjoy getting to know this family as much as I have.
They were inspired by my own sprawling, messy bunch of siblings and our habit of camping out in any house big enough to accommodate us as often as we can. We don’t encounter quite as much drama and heartache as the Kinleys, and our parents have yet to slip away to South America (because they know we would follow them and demand a spare room), but being a part of a big family is such a huge part of who I am that I couldn’t resist exploring it here.
As I was writing this story, we decamped to the Cotswolds in real life—a trip delayed by COVID for a year—and this story is suffused with the magic of that beautiful part of the world, and the love, squabbles and silliness of being stuck with your grown-up siblings for a week.
Lots of love,
Ellie
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Reunion with the Brooding Millionaire
Ellie Darkins
Ellie Darkins spent her formative years devouring romance novels and, after completing her English degree, decided to make a living from her love of books. As a writer and editor, she finds her work now entails dreaming up romantic proposals, hot dates with alpha males and trips to the past with dashing heroes. When she’s not working, she can usually be found running around after her toddler, volunteering at her local library or escaping all the above with a good book and a vanilla latte.
Books by Ellie Darkins
Harlequin Romance
Newborn on Her Doorstep
Holiday with the Mystery Italian
Falling for the Rebel Princess
Conveniently Engaged to the Boss
Surprise Baby for the Heir
Falling Again for Her Island Fling
Reunited by the Tycoon’s Twins
Snowbound at the Manor
From Best Friend to Fiancée
Prince’s Christmas Baby Surprise
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
For Charlie, Loobie, Rosie and Harry
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EXCERPT FROM ESCAPE WITH HER GREEK TYCOON BY MICHELLE DOUGLAS
CHAPTER ONE
‘WHAT ARE YOU doing here?’ Jonathan asked, his heart stuttering as he realised who had just walked into his house. He couldn’t be the only one who could hear his voice was so strained that it was starting to crack, but how else was he meant to sound when he was faced with the woman he’d been thinking about but hadn’t seen for the last seven years.
Rowan stared at him, looking as shocked to see him as he was to see her. He’d had barely more than glimpses of her since then—anything more direct than a sideways glance would have risked a flood of emotions he’d never trusted himself to examine, for fear of what he might learn.
A few minutes ago, his sister, Liv, had walked into the house—a small manor in the Cotswolds that he’d inherited from his grandparents a few years back, and was getting ready to sell—without a word of explanation as to why her best friend was there. Then she’d walked straight up the stairs, leaving him and Rowan in the hallway, staring at each other.
‘Livia invited me,’ Rowan said, falteringly, and Jonathan would have given every penny in his bank account to know what she was thinking at that moment. ‘I had no idea you’d be here, or I wouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, I think I can still make the last train back to London if I hurry.’
He couldn’t take his eyes off Rowan, who was staring him down in equal shock. He was distracted by a flashback of the last time that he had seen her and—No. He couldn’t. He’d forced himself not to think about that night. It was the only thing that had stopped him from doing something stupid. He wasn’t about to change that now.
He checked his watch. ‘No, you’ll have missed it,’ he said with a sigh. ‘God forbid Liv would check with me before inviting you.’
That made her look directly at him at last. ‘Is it really so terrible that I’m here?’
Jonathan sighed, because of course it wasn’t, and it was. It was torture, and it was wonderful. But he couldn’t tell Rowan any of that. He couldn’t let himself think that. He had to shut down his thoughts before they could lead him in a direction he couldn’t afford to follow.
‘The roof’s leaking,’ he blurted, and Rowan widened her eyes. ‘None of the rooms on the second floor are habitable. I cleared a room each for Liv and Caleb but there isn’t a spare.’
Rowan fixed him with a look. ‘I’ll share with Liv.’
Jonathan nodded. ‘Yes. Right. Of course.’ Why had he had to bring up sleeping arrangements? He should never, never be allowed to think of Rowan and beds together. He’d drive himself insane.
Livia called from the top of the stairs, and Rowan shouted up that she’d be there in a minute. ‘Well, Jonathan,’ Rowan said in an impressively cool voice that made him hope that she’d forgotten what had happened between them, and that perhaps he could just pretend that he had too.
‘It’s been such a long time,’ he blurted out, and nearly slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself making it worse. Why had he said that? When he could have turned on his heel, retreated to the library and avoided her until she left. Bringing up the last time he had seen her was the very last thing he should be doing.
‘Seven years,’ Rowan said, with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow that told him that his luck was out and she remembered exactly the things that he had said back then. ‘I have a race at the weekend and Liv is going to be my support crew,’ she went on, putting him out of his misery. He could only be thankful for her mercy, because she’d somehow dissolved every defence mechanism that he’d honed over the years just by appearing in front of him. ‘She promised me a few days of R&R here first. If I’d known that this was a family thing...’
‘Right. Of course,’ he replied. ‘It is. Caleb’s here too. I asked them to come and see if there was anything they wanted to keep before the estate agent comes next week. I...er...’ He hesitated, not sure why he was explaining all this. Not entirely sure why she was staying to listen to him. ‘I have a lot of work to do,’ he added, hating how stuffy that sounded. As if he were a professor of hers, or a grandparent, rather than a man a scant few years older than her who once considered himself her friend. And had... Well, the less he thought about that the better.
‘Far be it from me to keep you,’ Rowan retorted, and he supposed that he deserved that. He knew that he sounded like a prig, but around Rowan, more than anyone, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. She would be so easy to love. Perhaps if he wasn’t quite so aware of that, he could let himself...like her a little more? Could enjoy her being in his life in a peripheral sort of way. But he knew how dangerous that would be. Knew that spending time with her led to wanting her, led to...
He couldn’t afford to love her. To love anyone else.
He already loved his family. He loved his job—as head of the business his grandparents and parents had left to him. And the responsibilities that came with them ate up every last shred of energy and reserves that he possessed. There simply wasn’t space in his life for him to love anyone or anything else.
When it came to Rowan, he knew that he had to be careful. Because he hadn’t guarded himself as well as he should have when they were friends, and it had led exactly where he knew that he couldn’t go. Was it lonely, knowing that he was never going to have the thing that he knew he would want, if he allowed himself to be selfish? Of course it was. Some days, it had been so lonely that he hadn’t been able to bear it.
But that was a small price to pay. Because he knew that the alternative was hurting the people he loved. He simply couldn’t picture a life where he had the time and commitment he would want to give a loving, committed relationship. And so he had decided that that simply couldn’t happen for him. He had kept his distance from Rowan and tried to forget her.
His entire adult life had been one caref
No, they had left it to him to try and dig their family company—Kinley, a prestige brand in British fashion for more than a century—out of the financial and legal hole that they had created, not to mention the welfare of his siblings, then at university and boarding school. He’d kept the business afloat, just about. And his siblings? That had fared about as well. Not a great flaming tragedy—yet. But not something that he could look upon with any sense of pride or finality.
It seemed that he had failed, miserably, at the one thing that gave him any chance of protecting his heart. Rowan had been impossible to forget, and that was even before she had turned up on his doorstep. Just like that, all those years of effort had been washed away.
‘I guess I’ll see you, then,’ Rowan said, turning and walking up the stairs without a backward glance.
Jonathan stared after her, praying that she wouldn’t turn back and catch him. He shouldn’t watch her. Had no right to look at her, and yet he couldn’t help himself.
He was going to kill Livia.
CHAPTER TWO
HOW WAS JONATHAN in the hallway again? Rowan asked herself as she came downstairs later that evening.
‘Liv’s having a shower so I’m going for a walk before dinner,’ she threw out there, pointedly not inviting him just so that he would know that she wasn’t seeking him out. That was the last thing that she wanted. She would never admit it, but she had been hiding in their room since she had arrived, and the claustrophobia was making it hard to breathe. She just wanted some fresh air, and this far out into the Cotswolds, that basically meant walking or running. She was meant to be resting her legs this week—with a hundred miles to run on Saturday she had to think carefully about every step that she took—but there was no way that she could be cooped up inside the house until then. Maybe she should have followed her first instinct and booked herself on the first train back to London in the morning. She could make her own way back and find an Airbnb for the night before the race.
She walked through to the boot room to find the walking boots that Liv had promised should be in there and tried not to notice Jonathan’s footsteps following her. It took every shred of resolve she had not to turn to him. She felt his presence all over her skin, a flush of shame and embarrassment. The worst part of it all was the fact that he still had this effect on her. That seven years after she had last seen him she could still feel his lips against her skin. Feel the way that she had showed him exactly how she felt about him and he couldn’t have pushed her away harder if he’d been actively trying to break her heart.
‘Rowan, can I have a word?’ he said quietly.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Liv and Caleb weren’t about to sneak up on them. The only thing that could make his rejection of her worse would be if other people found out about it, and she could no longer pretend to herself and the whole world that it had never happened. ‘It’s ancient history,’ she added, hoping that she could at least make him believe that she felt that way. She didn’t need to pick the scab over that memory any more than she already had.
That was fine. Perfect. There had been a time that she would have teased him about being stuffy and tried to ease some of the atmosphere between him and Livia. When a half-smile from him would sustain her heart for days. She’d always thought that she’d had a way of reading Jonathan, a way of seeing him, that was different from his family. When he’d been pitched into the position of de facto parent to Liv, her best friend had seemed to see it as a challenge to relive her rebellious teenage years. Without complicated family dynamics, her relationship with Jonathan had been simpler. She’d always been able to tease a good mood from him, even when the pressure of his new responsibilities had weighed heavy in the crease of Jonathan’s forehead and the new curve of his shoulders as he sat at his desk in the London family home.
She had thought of it as a kindness, at first, to try and cheer him up when Liv was always giving him a hard time. But the reward of each smile grew larger, and she challenged herself to win a grin, a chuckle, a laugh. And by the time she had done all that, she couldn’t pretend to herself that she wasn’t doing it for herself too. That she didn’t get a flush of satisfaction knowing that she could reach him when everyone else received a scowl just for darkening his door. Livia never tired of complaining about what a bear he was with her.
Rowan had thought that what they had was a friendship. That those chats they’d had, over the kettle, or from his office doorway while Liv had cued up a movie or taken a shower, were some of the most genuine, authentic conversations that she’d ever had. And she’d grown to look forward to them. To anticipate the nights that Livia suggested they hang out at her place with a movie rather than go out to a bar or a club. She never told her friend about her conversations with her brother, though. She knew that Livia would laugh at her. Jonathan was someone to ridicule, in her friend’s eyes. Not someone to fancy. But God did she fancy him.
He was tall, lithe, sandy-haired. His beard was always as neat as his carefully ironed shirts. She never failed to wonder at that. His whole world had fallen apart, he’d been landed with responsibility for his family and the family business. And instead of drinking overly sweet cocktails and angry-kissing strangers in nightclubs—Livia’s chosen coping mechanisms in times of distress—Jonathan had exerted exceptional levels of control over his business, his family and his appearance. Livia hadn’t exactly thanked him for it, and in their younger years Rowan had had to bite her tongue and hide her true feelings about Jonathan.
Which meant that she’d never spoken to her best friend about the night when Rowan had decided to lean in to what had felt like a ‘moment.’
She and Jonathan had found themselves alone of an evening, while Liv was stuck on a delayed train home, instead of at the movie and pizza night that they’d planned. So Rowan had ended up sharing a pizza and a bottle of wine with Jonathan instead. But they hadn’t got round to the movie. Instead, they’d found themselves talking on the sofa. For hours. The windows had grown dark while they chatted, and they’d moved closer and closer, at one point pulling a blanket across both of them when a chill had reached them. Looking back, she hadn’t been able to work out how they had moved so close together. She knew that she hadn’t done it on purpose. But at some point, her feet had found their way into Jonathan’s lap. His arm had fallen over the back of the sofa and started playing with her hair. An hour later that same arm was around her shoulders, and she wasn’t sure who leaned in first but their lips were brushing together, first gently and then with an urgency that she had never felt before.
Hands had wandered and Jonathan’s mouth had explored her jaw, her throat, her collarbones. Somehow, she had found herself lying back, Jonathan between her thighs, her legs around his waist pulling him closer.
She hadn’t had the brain function to properly think about where it had been going, all she’d known was that she’d had no intention of stopping. It was everything that she wanted, everything that she had been waiting for. Jonathan was everything that she’d wanted, she’d realised, as she pushed one hand into his hair and the other under his shirt.
But then he’d pulled away, panting, and where she’d expected to see her own desire reflected in his face there was only shock. Something that was terribly close to horror.
He’d apologised and pulled his clothes back into place and turned his back on her, while she’d sat up on the sofa, asking herself what had gone wrong, what she’d done wrong to put that expression on his face.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...’ he’d stammered. And then looked at the bottle of wine they’d been sharing and blanched. ‘You’ve been drinking. You don’t even know what you’re doing. Oh, my God, you’re barely more than a kid. I’m sorry, Rowan.’
