www.millsandboon.co.uk

      AMY JO COUSINS

      loves words of all kinds, and her love of reading naturally led to a love of writing. Amy also has a passion for languages and there’s nothing she likes better than learning a new language and using it to explore the history of a foreign country, whether standing on the beaches of D-Day in Normandy or outside the Olympic Stadium in Munich.

      Her collection of books is slowly crowding her out of her home, although her cat seems more than willing to fall asleep upon the various piles. Other than that, Amy loves learning how to do anything that takes her outdoors and away from her computer including kayaking, sculling, rock climbing and landscape water painting.

      For the Albinack boys— Bruce Edward, Matthew McKinley and Finley Edward. You set the bar high, fellas.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      One

      “I admit I didn’t expect a professional appearance, but I thought at least you’d be clean.”

      The crisp voice crawled like ice down Addy’s spine, drawing her up straighter with each word. Pride and irritation kept her from turning around to respond to the man who’d walked into the law office behind her.

      She brushed a hand reflexively over her filthy blue jeans. No sense even trying to straighten her ratty curls. Running her fingers through her hair wouldn’t remove the caked mud, although, according to the mirror in her pickup truck, she was fairly sure she’d managed to pick out all of the twigs. The rest of her muck-covered body was definitely a lost cause.

      “I told your assistant this was a bad time for me, but she insisted this was the only appointment you had available.”

      Sharp footsteps on the worn linoleum floor allowed her to pull her body to the side, avoiding the man’s passing. As he moved to stand behind the scarred wood desk, she got her first glimpse of the man who’d been leaving increasingly irritated messages on her answering machine over the last month.

      She wondered if Mr. Spencer Reed ever cut himself on the sharp creases in his pants. Certainly the suit he wore as if it had been hand sewn for him by a London tailor was worth more than her entire wardrobe. Even his horn-rimmed glasses looked more stylish than anything she’d ever owned. Ignoring the demon in her mind that whispered of a blond Christopher Reeve in Clark Kent mode, she let her gaze roam casually over his face and body in a manner calculated to return insult.

      Dark blond hair waving in deliberately casual disarray indicated an excellent barber. His cheekbones screamed good breeding, and that firm mouth surely never uttered words unless it was to bend courts and clients to his will. The emotionless ice-blue gaze made it difficult to look away. She reminded herself that she’d always found her family’s uniformly dark eyes to be warm and welcoming. This man, she thought, was easily summed up by a few of her least favorite words.

      Slick. Cultured. Upper-class.

      Because she couldn’t stomach hypocrisy, even her own, she admitted that a couple more words could be added to that list. Compelling. Coolly handsome. The seduction of assurance. If he bothered to turn on the charm, she’d probably be a lost cause.

      The mismatch of his appearance with the ratty look of his office momentarily sparked her curiosity. Mr. Sharp-Dressed Man just didn’t fit in with these worn and tatty surroundings. She forced herself to ignore the temptation to speculate on his circumstances.

      The trust fund on legs was still speaking. She dragged her attention back, annoyed further that he seemed to take no notice of her rudeness.

      “I am very busy, and most people find ten o’clock to be a perfectly civilized hour for a business meeting.”

      “I’m not most people.”

      “Clearly.”

      Addy kept a throttling grip on her temper. She wished she possessed the same control over the flush she felt heating up her cheeks. Her awareness of being inappropriately dressed combined with his implication that his time was far more valuable than hers had kindled a fire of embarrassment and anger that she knew he read on her face.

      “Listen, Mr. Reed. You called. I came. What’s so important I had to interrupt my job for you?”

      “Your job. Would that be ladies’ mud wrestling?”

      Her vision blurred. Addy was dimly aware that