The Tycoon's Hidden Heir. Yvonne Lindsay

and walked through to another door that led into a large champagne-coloured marble bathroom and snapped on the faucet in the shower. Steam slowly started to fill the room.

      “Don’t lock the door,” he said as he left her. “I’ll find something for you to wear and drop it inside.”

      Helena could barely respond. The lure of warm running water called to her from the shower stall. With cold, stiffened fingers she tried to undo the buttons on the front of her jacket but they just wouldn’t cooperate.

      “Here, let me.”

      Warm hands brushed her fingers aside. She shivered as Mason deftly undid the buttons and peeled the tailored jacket from her body. Underneath, her simple black silk camisole clung to her skin, shamelessly exposing the fact she wore no bra. Under his gaze her nipples hardened and pressed against the dark silk. A flush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks.

      “I’ll be all right from here,” she protested as he started to lift the hem of her camisole.

      “You’re so frozen you can barely move. Be sensible, Helena. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

      His fingers brushed against her belly as he took hold of the bottom edge of her cami. The shiver that rippled through her body had nothing to do with cold—his touch scorched like a brand.

      “Please, stop.” Helena pushed his hands away and stepped backward. “I’ll be fine from here. Truly.” Blindly, she reached for a towel and pulled it in front of her.

      “Whatever you say.” He took a step back. “Come through to the living room when you’re finished. I’ll get the fire going and warm up something for us to eat.”

      Helena nodded and watched as he left the bathroom. She let go of the breath she’d been holding and swiftly shimmied out of her skirt and peeled off her clinging wet pantyhose and undies. She released her hair from the army of clips that bound it then gratefully stepped beneath the cascade of warmth thundering in the shower. Sheer bliss. She quickly lathered herself up and rinsed off. The stinging needles of the spray invigorated her and although her fingers and toes still felt cold she felt much better. Hungry though. She towelled off her wet skin, and arranged her damp clothes on the heated towel rail to dry, then picked through the mixed assortment of clothing Mason had dumped just inside the door while she’d been luxuriating in the hot water.

      In amongst a couple of well-washed soft T-shirts and a pair of grey track pants her hand hesitated over a powder-blue merino wool sweater and a relatively new pair of woman’s jeans. Was he sending her a message by including some other woman’s forgotten clothing? Resolutely Helena selected a large faded sweatshirt and the track pants. There was no way she would wear another woman’s castoffs—years of hand-me-downs from her parents’ neighbours combined with the smart remarks from her classmates when she’d worn their old clothing to school had seen to that.

      The sudden lance of jealousy that shafted her sideways at the thought of Mason with another woman came as an unpleasant surprise. It’s not as if she had any say in his love life, she groaned inwardly, don’t even think about it. She’d been a happily married woman herself for twelve years, so why did it suddenly bother her so much to think of another woman’s clothing being left here?

      With a determined push she shoved the blue sweater under the pile of remaining clothes and dragged on the pants and sweatshirt. The pants were far too large, but they were warm, and she wasn’t beyond sacrificing a bit of dignity for warmth right now. She rolled over the waistband several times to try and pull them up a bit on her hips and turned up the legs. The sweatshirt hung almost to the top of her thighs. Well, she decided, looking in the large vanity mirror, she wouldn’t win any fashion parades but then she wasn’t here to impress anyone, was she. Lord, but her hair was a mess. She rummaged through the vanity drawers, searching for a comb or a brush. Her cheeks flamed as her hand brushed against an unopened twelve-pack of condoms.

      “You okay in there?” Mason’s voice at the door made her slam the drawer shut. Okay, she could go with the wild look for her hair for now.

      Helena opened the bathroom door. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for the clothes.”

      He looked at what she was wearing and then the pile of clothes she’d dumped onto the vanity. If she wasn’t mistaken the corners of his mouth lifted slightly for just a moment. She bit her teeth together to avoid verbalising the snaky comment that came unbidden from the jealousy that still twinged inside. He was letting her stay the night. There was no way she was going to do anything to jeopardise his reluctant goodwill.

      “Come and eat then.”

      She followed him back down the hall to the sitting room where the aroma of warmed bread made her mouth water. Fire licked hungrily over split logs in the large stone fireplace and Helena bent to warm her fingers.

      “Still cold?” Mason asked.

      “Just a bit.” Helena grimaced at the state of her fingernails and her hands. No sign now of the elegant manicure she’d had earlier in the week. But it was worth it to get this opportunity. If she hadn’t already lugged so much of the tree from one place to another she probably would’ve hugged it for falling as it did and giving her the chance to stay longer.

      “You’ll feel better when you’ve had something to eat. Sit down.”

      When she was settled in the chair nearest the fire, Mason brought a tray with a bowl of a soup, filled with chunks of vegetables and meat, and several slices of warm French bread. They consumed their meal in silence. It was only as Helena placed her spoon back down in her now-empty bowl that he spoke.