The Deserving Mistress
Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites - and find new ones! - in this fabulous collection…What the tycoon wants…May Calendar has spent most of her life looking after her sisters and running the family business—and she's determined not to let anyone take her home and livelihood! Especially not arrogant property tycoon Jude Marshall!However, sexy, charming Jude always gets what he wants and now is out to wine and dine May! With a devastating secret to keep, May has never let anyone get too close. Besides, Jude is more the mistress type and May one day hopes to be a wife!
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They’ve got a date—at the altar!
International bestselling author Carole Mortimer has written more than 115 books, and now Mills & Boon>® is proud to conclude her popular CALENDAR BRIDES trilogy.
Meet the Calendar sisters:
January—is she too proud to become a wife?
March—can any man tame this free spirit?
May—will she meet her match?
These women are beautiful, proud and spirited—and now they have three rich, powerful and incredibly sexy tycoons ready to claim them as their brides!
For Matthew—I’m so proud of you.
Table of Contents
‘ARE you having a heart attack or just resting?’
May had heard the approach of the car into the farmyard, had even managed to slightly raise one eyelid in order to register the fact that it wasn’t a vehicle she recognised. Which meant her visitor was either lost, or a seed or fertilizer salesman, neither of which raised enough enthusiasm to rouse her from her sitting position on the convenient bale of hay outside the milking shed.
She managed a grunt of acknowledgement. ‘Which do you think?’
‘In all honesty—I’m not sure!’ The man sounded slightly surprised by his own uncertainty, as if it weren’t an emotion that came naturally to him.
May managed to pry that single eyelid slightly open a second time, just enough to be able to have a look at her unexpected visitor.
Probably aged in his mid to late thirties, the man was tall, very much so, with thick dark hair that looked inclined to curl, dark brows frowning over piercing grey eyes, an arrogant slash of a nose, his mouth grimly set over a squarely determined chin.
Uncertainty about anything certainly wouldn’t sit easily on those broad shoulders, either!
‘Well, let me know when you’ve made up your mind.’ May sighed wearily, closing her eyelid again.
‘Hmm,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never actually seen anyone have a heart attack, but I’m sure they should be in more pain than you appear to be in. On the other hand, falling asleep sitting outside on a bale of hay, in a temperature that can’t be much above freezing, doesn’t seem too comfortable, either!’ he concluded dryly.
May gave a dismissive movement of her shoulders. ‘Anywhere is comfortable to fall asleep when you’ve been up all night.’
‘Ah,’ the man murmured knowingly.
She opened her eyes just wide enough to glare at him. ‘With the vet,’ she defended impatiently before closing her eyes again.
‘I see,’ the man drawled wryly.
May gave a groan as she roused herself to sit up on the bale of hay, every muscle in her body seeming to ache as she rubbed sleep-drowsed eyes before frowning up at her visitor.
When she viewed him more closely, it was possible to see the arrogant lift of his square-cut chin, the complete self-confidence in the way that he stood and the hardness of his handsome features. Just the type of man she felt like dealing with after a sleepless night!
‘Can I help you?’ she prompted irritably.
‘That depends,’ the man murmured ruefully.
‘On what?’ She sighed at this procrastination, really in no mood to deal with a lost out-of-season tourist or indeed a pushy salesman.
He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘On whether or not your name happens to be Calendar.’
Not a lost out-of-season tourist. A seed or fertilizer salesman, then.
‘It could be.’ She pushed herself up onto her feet with effort, looking up to find the man was still seven or eight inches taller than her own five feet eight in height.
The man gave her a considering look, laughter glinting in those piercing grey eyes now.
Which wasn’t so surprising, May acknowledged, easily able to visualise the scarecrow figure she must represent. Her wellington boots were muddy, her jeans likewise; worse, she was still wearing the same clothes she had put on yesterday morning, not having been to bed yet or indeed managed to get inside for a refreshing shower. Her face was probably smeared with dirt from lying on the barn floor most of the night, a woollen hat pulled down low over her ears, mainly to keep out the bitingly cold wind but also to keep her long dark hair from the same muddy fate as the rest of her.
Yes, she had no doubts she did look rather funny. But at the moment, exhausted as she was, she wasn’t in the mood to laugh, at herself or anyone else.
‘You don’t sound too sure,’ the man drawled derisively.
‘I’m not.’ She shrugged, sighing heavily. ‘Look, I have no idea what you’re selling, and I probably don’t want any anyway, but if you could come back tomorrow I might at least be willing to talk about it—’
‘Selling?’ he repeated frowningly. ‘But I’m not the one—I have a better idea,’ he stated briskly as May gave a weary yawn, at the same time swaying slightly on her feet. ‘Let’s go into the farmhouse.’ He took a firm hold of her arm. ‘I’ll make you some coffee. Strong and black,’ he decided after another glance at her face, her eyes appearing a deeper green against her paleness. ‘And maybe then we can introduce ourselves properly.’
