TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

       AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

       STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

       PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

      All about the author…

       Sarah Morgan

      SARAH MORGAN was born in Wiltshire, U.K., and started writing at the age of eight when she produced an autobiography of her hamster.

      At the age of eighteen she traveled to London to train as a nurse in one of London’s top teaching hospitals, and she describes those years as extremely happy and definitely censored!

      She worked in a number of areas after she qualified, but her favorite was the accident and emergency department, where she found the work stimulating and fun. Nowhere else in the hospital environment did she encounter such good teamwork between doctors and nurses.

      By then her interests had moved on from hamsters to men, and she started writing romance fiction.

      Her first completed manuscript, written after the birth of her first child, was rejected by Harlequin, but the comments were encouraging, so she tried again, and on the third attempt her manuscript Worth the Risk was accepted unchanged. She describes receiving the acceptance letter as one of the best moments of her life, after meeting her husband and having her two children.

      Sarah still works parttime in a health-related industry, and spends the rest of the time with her family, trying to squeeze in writing whenever she can. She is an enthusiastic skier and walker, and loves outdoor life.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘I’VE FOUND HER, Angelos. And she’s a goddess.’

      Hearing the sound of his father’s voice, Angelos Zouvelekis interrupted his conversation with the Greek ambassador to France and turned. ‘Found who?’ The fact that his father had made an effort to come tonight was a good sign. A few months ago he had been a broken man, unwilling to leave his isolated villa after his second painful divorce in six years.

      ‘The perfect woman for you.’ His father shook his head in disbelief, but the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. ‘Sometimes I wonder if you’re really my son. This place is full of gorgeous, beautiful women and what do you do? You talk to boring men in suits. Where did I go wrong with you?’

      Seeing the surprise in the ambassador’s eyes, Angelos smoothly excused himself and drew his father to one side. ‘For me, tonight is about business. I hold this ball every year. The purpose is to part the rich and famous from their money.’

      ‘Business, business, business.’ Visibly exasperated, his father raised his hands in despair. ‘Does business keep you warm at night? Does it cook you dinner? Does it raise your children? Always with you it is business, Angelos, and already you are a billionaire! You have enough money! You don’t need any more money! What you need is a good woman!’

      Several heads turned in their direction, but Angelos simply laughed. ‘Tonight I’m not making money. I’m giving it away. And you’re shocking everyone. Behave yourself,’ he said mildly, ‘or I’ll tell Security to remove you from the building.’ But it had been such a long time since his father had summoned sufficient energy to nag him about marriage that he felt nothing but relief. ‘And I don’t need you to find me a woman.’

      ‘Why? Do you find one on your own? No, you don’t. Not a proper one. You spend your time with women who would not make suitable wives.’

      ‘That’s why I pick them,’ Angelos murmured, but his father frowned his disapproval, dismissing his comment with another wave of his hand.

      ‘I know who you pick! The whole world knows who you pick, Angelos, because the stories are in every newspaper. One week it is a Savannah, the next it is a Gisella—never the same woman for more than a few weeks, and always they are thin, thin, thin.’ His Greek accent thickening his words, Costas Zouvelekis made a disparaging noise. ‘How can you be happy with a woman who doesn’t enjoy her food? Does a woman like that cook for you? No. Does she enjoy life? No, of course not. How can a woman enjoy life when she is starving hungry? The women you pick have the legs and the hair, and they are like athletes in the bedroom, but would they care for your children? No. Would they—?’

      ‘I don’t need a woman to cook. I have staff for that purpose.’ Angelos wondered briefly whether inviting his father to this particular function might have been a mistake after all. ‘And I don’t have any children for a woman to care for.’

      His father gave a snort of exasperation. ‘I know you don’t, and I want you to have children. That is the point I am making! You are thirty-four years old and how many times have you been married? None. I am sixty-three and how many times have I been married? Three. It is time you started catching up, Angelos. Make me a grandfather!’

      ‘Ariadne has already made you a grandfather twice.’

      ‘That’s different. She’s my daughter and you are my son. I want to hold the sons of my son