Treacherous Longings. 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.
Treacherous Longings
Anne Mather
CONTENTS
‘YOU knew her, didn’t you?’
Quinn barely hesitated. ‘My mother did,’ he amended swiftly, conscious of the weakness of that distinction. Of course he’d known her. Rather better then he wanted to remember, he thought sardonically. But that wasn’t Hector Pickard’s concern. Nor ever would be, if he had anything to do with it.
‘How long ago was that?’
Hector was persistent, and Quinn got up from his chair and wandered with assumed indolence over to the window. But the tall buildings of Canary Wharf, visible beyond the floor-length panes of this executively placed office, were not what he was seeing as he gazed beyond the glass.
‘Oh—years,’ he replied at last, dismissively. ‘Ten years at least. Long before she had that—row—with Intercontinental. I’ve no idea what she’s doing now.’ He paused. ‘She—dropped out of sight.’
‘I do.’
‘You do what?’
‘Know where she is. Or—’ Hector gave a half-impatient shrug ‘—I think I do, anyway. Yes. I’m sure of it.’
Hector’s smug pronouncement had Quinn turning to stare at him with undisguised disbelief. ‘Where? How?’
‘Oh, I have my sources.’ Hector responded to his second question first. He gave a satisfied smile. ‘You’re not the only journalist I employ, Marriott. And some of them will do anything to oust you from that plum position you occupy. Including a little—insider dealing, if it gets us what we want.’
Quinn’s dark brows drew together. ‘Go on.’
Hector adopted a rather defiant air now. His dealings with the younger man usually left him in a position of weakness, but this time he felt confident of his success.
‘The current series is going nowhere, and you know it!’ he exclaimed firmly. ‘I mean, who have we featured so far? A couple of washed-up actors whose careers never were going to set a script alight. An ex-boxer whose brains were not scrambled in the ring, however often he tries to convince us they were. And a trio of ageing political Romeos whose sexual exploits nobody cared about to begin with.’
Quinn’s smile was reluctant, but undeniable. ‘My God,’ he said, ‘not even damned with faint praise! Lord save me from ambitious producers. There’s nothing more chilling than the viewing figures, is there?’
Hector’s look was dour. ‘There’s no need for you to sound so sanctimonious about it, Marriott. You’ve done your share of verbal butchery in your time. I know you put your thumbs down on this project before it even got started—’
‘Well, it was hardly original, was it?’
‘—but that doesn’t absolve you of all responsibility for its failure.’
‘Doesn’t it?’ Quinn folded his arms with cool indifference. ‘Hector, the girl who brings round the tea could have told you that format had been done to