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
âMARRY you?â Luc echoed, his brilliant dark gaze rampant with incredulity as he abruptly cast aside the financial report he had been studying. âWhy would I want to marry you?â
Catherineâs slender hand was shaking. Hurriedly she set down her coffee-cup, her courage sinking fast. âI just wondered if you had ever thought of it.â Her restless fingers made a minute adjustment to the siting of the sugar bowl. She was afraid to meet his eyes. âIt was just an idea.â
âWhose idea?â he prompted softly. âYou are perfectly content as you are.â
She didnât want to think about what Luc had made of her. But certainly contentment had rarely featured in her responses. From the beginning she had loved him wildly, recklessly, and with that edge of desperation which prevented her from ever standing as his equal.
Over the past two years, she had swung between ecstasy and despair more times than he would ever have believed. Or cared to believe. This beautiful, luxurious apartment was her prison. Not his. She was a pretty songbird in a gilded cage for Lucâs exclusive enjoyment. But it wasnât bars that kept her imprisoned, it was love.
She stole a nervous glance at him. His light intonation had been deceptive. Luc was silently seething. But not at her. His ire was directed at some imaginary scapegoat, who had dared to contaminate her with ideas, quite embarrassing ideas above her station.
âCatherine,â he pressed impatiently.
Under the table the fingernails of her other hand grooved sharp crescents into her damp palm. Skating on thin ice wasnât a habit of hers with Luc. âIt was my own idea andâ¦Iâd appreciate an answer,â she dared in an ironic lie, for she didnât really want that answer; she didnât want to hear it.
Had the Santini electronics empire crashed overnight, Luc could not have looked more grim than he did now, pierced by a thorn from a normally very well-trained source. âYou have neither the background nor the education that I would require in my wife. There, it is said,â he delivered with the decisive speed and the ruthlessness which had made his name as much feared as respected in the business world. âNow you need wonder no longer.â
Every scrap of colour slowly drained from her cheeks. She recoiled from the brutal candour she had invited, ashamed to discover that she had, after all, nurtured a tiny, fragile hope that deep down inside he might feel differently. Her soft blue eyes flinched from his, her head bowing. âNo, I wonât need to wonder,â she managed half under her breath.
Having devastated her, he relented infinitesimally. âThis isnât what I would term breakfast conversation,â he murmured with a teasing harshness that she easily translated into a rebuke for her presumption in daring to raise the subject. âWhy should you aspire to a relationship within which you would not be at easeâ¦hmm? As a lover, I imagine, I am far less demanding than I would be as a husband.â
In the midst of what she deemed to be the most agonising d;aaenouement of her life, an hysterical giggle feathered dangerously in her convulsed throat. A blunt, sun-browned finger languorously played over the knuckles showing white beneath the skin of her clenched hand. Even though she was conscious that Luc was using his customary methods of distraction, the electricity of a powerful sexual chemistry tautened her every sinew and the fleeting desire to laugh away the ashes of painful disillusionment vanished.
With a faint sigh, he shrugged back a pristine silk shirt cuff to consult the rapier-thin Cartier watch on his wrist and frowned.
âYouâll be late for your meeting.â She said it for him as she stood up, for the very first time fiercely glad to see the approach of the departure which usually tore her apart.
Luc rose fluidly upright to regard her narrowly. âYouâre jumpy this morning. Is there something wrong?â
The other matter, she registered in disbelief, was already forgotten, written off as some impulsive and foolishly feminine piece of nonsense. It wouldnât occur to Luc that she had deliberately saved that question until he was about to leave. She hadnât wanted to spoil the last few hours they would ever spend together.