Sinful Truths. Anne Mather
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Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred
and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than
forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,
passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Sinful Truths
Anne Mather
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE apartment was in one of the more expensive parts of the city. Not a high-rise, despite the many luxury apartments that were available in that kind of real estate. No, the apartment Isobel had chosen was on the upper floor of a converted Victorian townhouse, and what it lacked in modern amenities it more than made up for in style and elegance.
It didn’t surprise Jake that she had preferred the older building. Isobel came from old money, and, however straitened her circumstances, she’d rather freeze in rooms that had never been intended to be warmed by central heating than live in comfort in contemporary uniformity.
Not that it hadn’t been expensive. Jake knew exactly how expensive it had been. He should do, he reflected ironically. He’d bought it for her when they separated, and he’d held the lease on it ever since.
Jake had to park his car on the adjoining street and walk the couple of hundred yards to Eaton Crescent. It was raining, typical May weather, and he scowled as the downpour soaked the shoulders of his leather jacket. Another jacket bites the dust, he thought resignedly, wondering when he’d got used to discarding clothes like unwanted parking tickets. He should have used an umbrella. There was a golfing one in the boot of his car, put there by a grateful salesman when he’d bought the expensive vehicle. Needless to say, it had never been used.
There was a panel beside the door with the names of the various occupants of the apartments beside individual bells. It was supposed to be for security purposes, but Jake knew that persistent callers simply rang all the bells until someone was foolish enough to let them in. There was no intercom, and although at the time he’d bought it he’d expressed his doubts to Isobel, she had been indifferent to his concerns.
‘Don’t pretend you care what happens to us,’ she’d declared coldly, on their way back to the estate agent’s office, and he’d refused to take the bait.
Now, pushing back the thoughts of that ugliness, Jake pressed Isobel’s bell and waited for the door to unlatch. She knew he was coming so she could hardly pretend to be out.
He didn’t have to wait long. Almost immediately the catch was released and he pushed open the door into the hall.
Despite its rather gloomy interior, the hall smelled pleasantly of pot-pourri and furniture polish. A cleaning service kept the public halls and stairways in excellent repair, and the immediate impression was of warmth and gentility.
The door closed automatically behind him, and after brushing a careless hand over his wet hair Jake mounted the carpeted stairs two at a time. He was breathing a little heavily when he reached the second landing, and he reminded himself that he hadn’t been to the gym in a while. Sitting in front of a computer might be easier than cutting rocks, so to speak, but it was a hell of a lot less healthy.
Isobel’s door wasn’t open. He’d thought it might have been as she’d obviously let him in, but it wasn’t. Restraining the impulse to try the handle, he lifted his hand and knocked, waiting a little impatiently for her to answer.
But Isobel didn’t answer the door. Emily did. And she stood glaring at him with all the rage and resentment he’d used to expect from her mother.
‘What do you want?’
Her question took him by surprise. He’d felt sure Isobel would have discussed his visit with her. But clearly she hadn’t, and he was left having to explain to a precocious ten-year-old that her mother was expecting him.
‘Well, she’s not here,’ Emily declared with evident satisfaction. ‘So you’ll just have to come back some other time.’
Jake blinked. ‘You’re not serious,’ he said, recalling the trouble he’d had keeping