Santiago had never wanted a woman this much in his life, and damn her she knew it. He wanted her so badly that he could taste it. He wanted to taste her so badly that … He embraced his anger just to stay in control.

      Lucy sucked in a deep, wrathful breath and blurted, ‘You manipulative—’

      He moved so fast it seemed that one moment he was standing several feet away and the next he was beside her, with his finger poised a whisper away from her parted lips. She felt the pressure building inside and was totally helpless to do anything about it.

      ‘Think very carefully before you continue, Lucy. I am not my brother and I am not in the habit of turning the other cheek.’

      ‘You’re—’ He lunged without warning and grabbed her by the waist. The other hand went to the nape of her neck, his fingers pushing into her hair as he pulled her into him.

       About the Author

      KIM LAWRENCE lives on a farm in rural Anglesey. She runs two miles daily, and finds this an excellent opportunity to unwind and seek inspiration for her writing! It also helps her keep up with her husband, two active sons, and the various stray animals which have adopted them. Always a fanatical consumer of fiction, she is now equally enthusiastic about writing. She loves a happy ending!

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘LUCY Fitzgerald …?’

      Santiago, who had been half listening to his brother’s enthusiastic description of the latest woman who was ‘the one’, lifted his head, the indent above his narrowed eyes deepening as he tried to place the name that seemed for some reason strangely familiar.

      ‘Do I know her?’

      At the question his half-brother, who had gone to stand in front of the large gilded mirror above the room’s impressive fireplace, laughed. He took one last complacent look at his reflection, ran a hand over the dark hair he wore collar length and turned back to his brother with a white grin. ‘Oh, if you’d met Lucy you wouldn’t have forgotten,’ he promised confidently. ‘You’ll love her, Santiago.’

      ‘Not as much as you love you, little brother.’

      Ramon, who, unable to resist the lure of his reflection, had swivelled his gaze to cast a critical look at his profile, dragged a hand over his carefully groomed stubble before responding to the jibe with a joking retort: ‘You can always improve upon perfection.’

      In reality, Ramon was philosophical that, effort or not, perfect profile or not, he was never going to have what his charismatic brother had and wasted. If not criminal, it was at the very least bad manners to Ramon’s way of thinking to not even appear to notice the women who seemed more than willing to overlook his brother’s imperfect profile—the slight bump in his nose was a permanent reminder of Santiago’s rugby-playing days—as they sought to attract his attention by any, some not exactly subtle, means.

      He angled his speculative gaze at