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      MILLS & BOON

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      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

      CHAPTER ONE

      THE large group of local children surging into the foyer of the hotel caught Adam Cazell’s attention first—something of a curiosity, given that this was the Raffles Hotel Le Royal, a mecca for wealthy tourists in Phnom Penh, and it was the cocktail hour. Adam paused on his way to the famous Elephant Bar to meet up with the rest of his party, amused by the chirpy excitement of the children, all dressed in long black pants and white tunics, regardless of gender.

      Then he saw the woman who was shepherding them forward. She brought Adam to an absolute standstill, the sheer exquisite beauty of her catching the breath in his throat, punching his heart, wiping everything else from his mind.

      Pale perfect skin, gleaming like pearl shell.

      Long, liquid, shiny black hair, falling to below her waist.

      Exotic eyes, black velvet, thickly fringed with long silky lashes, their almond shape tilting slightly up at the corners.

      Finely arched brows that winged up at the ends, as well, accentuating the fine cast of her angled cheekbones.

      A straight elegant nose, the slight flare of her nostrils balancing the lush sensuality of the sexiest mouth Adam had ever seen, full pink-red lips, stunningly delineated by texture, not by cosmetic gloss. She wore no make-up that he could see.

      A natural work of art.

      Not Cambodian like the children.

      She was tall, slender, innately graceful, and what country she called home, what mixture of genes had created her, Adam could not even begin to guess. All he knew was he’d never seen anyone like her. She had no peer amongst all the beautiful women who’d sought his acquaintance, and being one of the few billionaires in the prime of his life, he’d met legions of them.

      With all his concentrated brain-power, he willed her to look at him.

      She didn’t.

      She spoke to the children who gave her their rapt attention as though she were some goddess, commanding their reverent obeisance.

      ‘Good heavens!’ The surprised voice of his current companion, Tahlia Leaman, jangled in his ears as she hooked her arm around his. ‘Fancy seeing Rosalie James here!’

      He’d left Tahlia in the bathroom, blow-drying her long blond hair—a tedious activity that always tried his patience. He glanced quickly at her now to see if she was looking at the woman with the children.

      No doubt about where her gaze was trained. She raised her other arm in a wave. ‘Rosalie! Hi!’

      The greeting evoked a frown, a quick look—the lustrous dark gaze skimming right past Adam—a rueful little smile, a nod of acknowledgment to Tahlia, and that was it, the briefest of interruptions to her communication with the children.

      ‘Must be doing her children’s charity thing,’ Tahlia commented, hugging Adam’s arm. ‘Come on, darling. The others are probably already waiting for us in the bar.’

      It piqued him, not to be at least noticed by the woman. In most company he stood out as a big man, well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, powerful physique, with a face most women considered attractive, wearing well for its thirty-eight years. A good head of hair, too, though the dark brown was liberally streaked with grey, adding to his somewhat distinguished persona. He wasn’t accustomed to being passed over by anyone!

      ‘Who is Rosalie James?’ he demanded of Tahlia, wanting some definitive tag on her.

      It earned an incredulous look. ‘You don’t know?’

      ‘I wouldn’t ask if I knew,’ he said tersely, wanting information not gushy nonsense.

      Tahlia rolled her eyes. ‘Only the queen of the catwalk for all the influential designers in Europe and the U.S.—the one model they all vie for to show off their star creations. The rest of us aren’t even in the running if Rosalie James is available.’

      ‘Is that a bitchy comment?’

      Tahlia grimaced. ‘The plain truth. I can’t even be bitchy about her, though she does get the plum jobs. When she’s not modelling, she works her butt off for orphaned kids and I suspect most of what she earns gets funnelled to them, too. You rarely ever see her on the social circuit. She’s not into partying.’ Tahlia slanted him a knowing look. ‘Not your kind of woman, Adam.’

      ‘No,’ he agreed.

      And they walked on to the bar.

      But the image of Rosalie James lingered in his mind, indelibly printed there, a rarity that both annoyed and intrigued him. Why would such a beautiful woman spend all her leisure time do-gooding, not to mention pouring all she earned into it? What drove her?

      Adam knew he was a born achiever. Building up successful businesses had always given him a buzz, though he grew bored with them once they were flying high. His latest challenge was getting a new airline off the ground and he was aiming to organise cheap flights to South-East Asia, scouting the possibilities while ostensibly on this pleasure trip.

      To his mind, Cambodia had a lot to offer tourists. Here in Phnom Penh, the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda with its fabulous Buddhas—one encrusted with over nine thousand diamonds,