Playboy Under the Mistletoe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

When JOANNA NEIL discovered Mills & Boon®, her lifelong addiction to reading crystallised into an exciting new career writing Medical™ Romance. Her characters are probably the outcome of her varied lifestyle, which includes working as a clerk, typist, nurse and infant teacher. She enjoys dressmaking and cooking at her Leicestershire home. Her family includes a husband, son and daughter, an exuberant yellow Labrador and two slightly crazed cockatiels. She currently works with a team of tutors at her local education centre, to provide creative writing workshops for people interested in exploring their own writing ambitions.

WHY on earth had she agreed to do this? Jasmine risked a glance down from the lofty platform of the metal fire tower and immediately regretted it. Just looking out from that height made her feel dizzy, and it didn’t help that the eager crowd watching from below were way too far away for their faces to be seen clearly. At this rate, with nausea and vertigo both coming into play, she’d very soon be a patient for real, instead of simply acting the part.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Mike had said, in cheerful mood after he had persuaded her to take part. ‘You’re used to walking the fells in the Lake District, aren’t you? And I recall you said you had attempted to climb Scafell Pike and Helvellyn, so this should be no problem at all. We’re demonstrating a crag rescue here, and you know how that goes. Forget that this looks like a scaffolding structure. Just imagine that you’re stranded on Scafell Pike, and everything will drop into place.’

Jasmine winced at his choice of words. Right now, the notion of anything dropping anywhere was enough to make her stomach plunge all over again. Not that Mike had any qualms about this venture. He was a coordinator for the various mountain rescue teams in this part of the country, and of course he would have very few concerns about the exercise.

‘It’s not at all the same,’ she had protested. ‘I had time to prepare for those and they didn’t present me with a sheer, vertical face…not the bits I attempted, anyway.’ She had shuddered. ‘I can’t think why I let you talk me into it.’

Mike had chuckled. Determinedly optimistic, he had urged her towards the base of the tower and coaxed her up the ladder to begin the ascent, following close behind her.

Which was why she was stuck here now, alone on the topmost platform, pretending to be someone who was lying injured on a crag. Lying injured…The words struck a chord of memory, and she recalled what Mike had said. ‘Flail your arms around a bit and cry out for help. The crowd will love that. Then sink to your knees and pretend to topple over. After that, all you have to do is lie still and let the rescue team do the rest.’

So that’s what she would do…anything to get this over and done with. She would perform her heart out for the crowd of people who were watching the rescue demonstration from the safety of the fire station’s courtyard.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm. It was not the best of times to be carrying out this operation—a freezing cold December day, with a smattering of snow in the air and the wind buffeting her from all angles.

It was also the final day of her course, marking the end of her week-long stay at the luxurious nearby hotel, and maybe if she lay down and thought about the comforting lounge waiting back there, with its logburning fire, and the delicious cocktails or the aromatic pot of hot coffee that the waitress would bring, it would take away some of the stress of her present situation.

With that in mind, she went into her act with a bit more enthusiasm. ‘Help,’ she shouted, waving her arms and pretending to stumble. ‘Help me, someone, please, help me. My leg’s broken.’

Then she sank to the floor of the platform and waited for her rescuer to arrive.

It wasn’t long before she heard sounds of activity coming from the ground below, along with the clink of chains and pulleys, and then, finally, she felt the thud of movement as someone began climbing the tower.

The whole edifice seemed to judder as her rescuer approached, but perhaps it was her overwrought imagination playing tricks on her. The tower was solidly based, wasn’t it? It would not topple.

Even so, a faint film of perspiration broke out on her brow. The nausea began to return in full force and she muttered a few curses that should have had Mike squirming in his boots if he’d been anywhere near.

‘Whatever did Mike do to deserve all that vitriol?’ a deep, male voice enquired, the tone threaded with a hint of amusement. ‘Letting loose a plague on him is kind of overkill, don’t you think?’

‘You wouldn’t say so if you were in my shoes,’ she retorted, sucking in a sharp breath. ‘I could have been watching all this from a safe distance if it weren’t for him. I could even have slipped away out of the cold and gone back to the hotel to enjoy a glass of something laced with a warming dash of brandy.’