âWill you marry me, Ava?â
She goggled. âWeâve only known each other a week!â
Flynnâs brows rose. âWeâve known each other for years.â
But how well? Seven years older than her, heâd usually been helping his father on the estate grounds. âIâm still stunned. We donât even know if weâre physically compatible,â she said.
His expression altered. Focused. Igniting wildfire in her veins. âI think last night proves weâve got no problems there. Weâre combustible together.â
âBut marriage is more than physical attraction. Itâs only been a week,â she protested again.
âHow long do you need to be sure? A month? A year? I knew the moment I saw you again in Paris,â he said.
Avaâs breath caught. âYou care for me that much?â
âYouâre perfect in every way.â
Seven Sexy Sins
The true taste of temptation!
From greed to gluttony, lust to envy, these fabulous stories explore what seven sexy sins mean in the twenty-first century!
Whether pride goes before a fall, or wrath leads to a passion that consumes entirely, one thing is certain: the road to true love has never been more enticing!
So you decide:
How can it be a sin when it feels so good?
SlothâCathy Williams
LustâDani Collins
PrideâKim Lawrence
GluttonyâMaggie Cox
GreedâSara Craven
WrathâMaya Blake
EnvyâAnnie West
Seven titles by some of Mills & Boon® Modern⢠Romanceâs most treasured and exciting authors!
PROLOGUE
THE CARâS ACCELERATION was loud in the still night, breaking the silence Flynn had so enjoyed after the bustle of London.
As he stretched his legs on a midnight walk across Michael Cavendishâs country estate, the only sound should have been the swoop of an owl or the rustle of small creatures foraging. Flynn was too far from the big house for the sounds of the Cavendishesâ annual winter bash to intrude.
The car roared closer, towards the tight bend in the long drive. Flynn quickened his pace, suddenly alert. It wasnât braking soon enough to make the turn.
By the time the sickening screech and thud of a collision shattered the night, Flynn was sprinting.
The drift of cloud across the moon parted as he scudded around the thicket on a surge of frantic adrenaline. There it was: an open convertible at an ungainly angle, nose deep in the dark foliage. Moonlight sparkled on shattered glass that crunched under his feet.
But Flynnâs eyes were on the driverâs seat. On the figure struggling with the door. Moon-silvered hair spilled over pale, bare shoulders and arms flecked with what he suspected was blood. His heart hammered even as relief kicked in. At least she was conscious.
âDonât move.â He had to see how badly she was injured, and quickly.
âWhoâs there?â Instantly the woman shrank back from the door.
Her head snapped up and shock slammed into him. Ava? It couldnât be little Ava Cavendish. Not in that tight, low-cut white evening gown. Not with those lush breasts.
âWho is it?â
This time Flynn registered the sharp fear in her tone. Already she was trying to climb out the opposite side of the car, her long dress catching.
âAva? Itâs okay. Itâs me, Flynn Marshall.â He reached the driverâs door but couldnât wrench it open. The metal was buckled. Frustration surged.
âFlynn? Mrs Marshallâs son?â
Her voice was slurred and anxiety stabbed him. Wasnât slurred speech a danger sign?
âYes, Flynn.â He made his voice soothing as he tried to recall hazy first aid knowledge. âYou know me.â
A gusty sigh met the revelation. She mumbled something under her breath. He caught the word safe.
Flynn frowned. âOf course youâre safe with me.â
Theyâd grown up on the estate. Ava in the big house and he in a cramped workersâ cottage with his parents.
âHere. This way.â He had to get her away from the car. He couldnât smell petrol but heâd take no chances.
Whatever her injuries, she could move her arms and legs. No spinal damage, hopefully. Sheâd already clambered up to kneel on the seat.
She twisted and a bottle dropped to the floor.
Since when had Ava been drinking champagne? She must be onlyâhe did a quick mental calculationâseventeen. More to the point, the Ava he knew was far too responsible to drink and drive, even in a fit of teen rebellion.