is one of Mills & Boonâs most popular and
bestselling novelists. Her writing was an instant success with readers worldwide. Since her first book, Bittersweet Passion, was published in 1987, she has gone from strength to strength and now has over ninety titles, which have sold more than thirty-five million copies, to her name.
In this special collection, we offer readers a
chance to revisit favourite books or enjoy that rare treasureâa book by a favourite writerâthey may have missed. In every case, seduction and passion with a gorgeous, irresistible man are guaranteed!
CHAPTER ONE
HEADS turned when Bella walked down the street. Her rippling mane of Titian curls, her incredibly long legs and her outrageous hotchpotch of colourful clothes caught the eye. But it was her prowling, graceful stride and the light of vibrant energy in her face which made the attention linger. Bella always looked as if she knew exactly where she was going.
She lifted the public phone off the hook and punched in the number. âGriff?â
âBella, Iâm so sorry... somethingâs come up,â he groaned. âI have to go back into the office.â
âButââ Her clear eyes froze as she heard a woman giggling somewhere in the background. Griff went on talking, although there was a similar catch of amusement in his voice. Apologising, he assured her that he would be in touch.
Five minutes later Bella was back in the wine bar with her friends.
âWhere have you been?â Liz hissed, under cover of the animated conversation.
âCalling Griff...â
âYou mean heâs not on his way yet?â
Bella gave a careless shrug.
âHeâs let you down, hasnât he?â her friend said bluntly.
Bella didnât trust herself to speak. And the very last thing she needed right now was a lecture on the subject of Griff Atherton, who was everything Gramps had ever told her to look out for in a man but who was inexplicably as unreliable as they came, in spite of his good education, steady job and stable family background.
âYou really know how to pick them,â Liz lamented. âWhy do you always latch on to the creeps?â
âHeâs not a creep.â
âItâs your birthday. Where is he?â
Bella shed her battered cerise suede fringed jacket and crossed her legs below the feathered hem of her minuscule new chiffon skirt, covertly attempting to stretch it to a more reasonable length. Liz had bought the skirt for her birthday. It was far too short but she had to be seen to wear it at least this once.
âSo what was Griff the Glibâs excuse this time?â
âWow, look at those wheels!â Bella exclaimed hurriedly, keen for a change of subject. She craned her neck to gaze out at the gleaming silver sports car drawing up outside the five-star hotel on the other side of the street. âThatâs a Bugatti Supersport.â
âA what?â Obediently distracted, Liz peered without a lot of interest and then gasped. âLook whoâs getting out of it! Now that is what I callââ
âFabulous engineering.â Bella was eyeing the sleek lines of the powerful car, not the driver with his smouldering, dark good looks. Bella preferred blonds.
âI havenât heard Rico da Silva described in quite those terms before.â
âWho?â
âIf you ever put your nose inside a serious newspaper, youâd recognise him too. Heâs absolutely gorgeous, isnât he?â Liz looked rapt. âHeâs also single and loaded!â
âHe has a beautiful set of wheels. Is he into motors?â
âHeâs an international financier. The local paper did a profile on him,â Liz told her. âHe owns a fabulous country estate just outside town. He spent millions renovating it.â
Bella grimaced. Finance...money...banks. She never went into a bank if she could help it, didnât even own a cheque book. People who wheeled and dealed in money and profit made her skin crawl. A faceless smoothie from a bank had pushed Grampsâ business to the wall and put him into a premature grave.
âThatâs his current lady,â Liz murmured as a beautiful blonde woman swathed in fur emerged from the hotel.
Tall, dark and handsome with the little woman. Bella wasnât in the mood to be generous. They looked like some impossibly perfect couple from a glossy magazine. His and hers matching glamour. They had that aura of untouchability which only the seriously rich exuded. It was there like a glass wall between them and the rest of the human race. A clump of pedestrians stopped to let them pass in a direct path to the Bugatti. They took it as their due.