Dangerous Disguise. Marie Ferrarella

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Dangerous Disguise - Marie Ferrarella


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      “You’re not much of a liar, Maren Minnesota.”

      “I don’t get much practice.”

      “That’s good.” The softly whispered words hung between them. “Honesty is a very sexy quality in a woman.” Jared brushed a soft kiss against her hair. He felt his heart aching. He hated this tangled web.

      “You make me want to do things, Maren.” He framed her face in his hands, his heart speeding up and beating wildly in his chest. “Wild, insane things.”

      She could feel her breath backing up in her lungs. She wanted to believe him, believe in the moment, in what was happening between them, even as every sane bone in her body begged her to run for cover. But she wasn’t listening to sanity, she was listening to the rush of desire as it overtook her.

      “Such as?”

      He didn’t want words any longer.

      He wanted her.

      Dangerous Disguise

      Marie Ferrarella

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MARIE FERRARELLA

      This RITA® Award-winning author has written over one hundred and twenty books for Silhouette, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide.

      To

       Mark.

       Nothing is impossible,

       as long as you

       believe.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 1

      He was too good-looking.

      The thought telegraphed itself across Maren Minnesota’s mind the moment she walked into her office. Tucked away behind the kitchen, the small, windowless room was crammed with not one desk, but two since she shared the space with Joe Collins, the accountant for both branches of Rainbow’s End and the man she regarded, for all intents and purposes, as her father. Two of the walls were lined with shelves that housed books, knickknacks, and an antiquated stereo system.

      The man sitting in the chair by her desk made the rest of the room fade away.

      She was running a few minutes behind, which was unlike her. Maren had completely forgotten that she had an appointment to interview a Jared Stevens and that said Jared Stevens was waiting for her in the office. If it hadn’t been for April, the salad girl, prompting her, who knew how long the man would have gone on waiting. He was interviewing for the position of assistant chef, a job that had suddenly become vacant.

      As manager of Rainbow’s End’s main restaurant, she’d seen three candidates so far in the last two days and none had impressed her as particularly right for the job. She knew she was being too fussy. In her experience, it took a certain zest to cook creatively, a certain passion for food, a flair for color to make an outstanding chef. The other people she’d interviewed—two men and a woman—had résumés that were decent enough, but she didn’t quite have the feeling that they could offer as much dedication as was needed.

      It was her goal to make this particular branch of Rainbow’s End the best.

      But this man, who had brought over Papa Joe’s chair and angled it beside her desk, well, she detected a little too much passion to suit her. More than likely, that passion wouldn’t be strictly aimed at the vegetables and meat.

      She knew this because her breath had caught in her throat when their eyes met. Jared Stevens had turned in his chair when she’d opened the door. His incredible green eyes made instant contact with hers, as if their meeting had been preordained somewhere in some vast eternal book.

      If she had been a battleship, she would have immediately been sunk.

      It took her half a second to recover.

      He reminded her of Kirk. And that was a bad thing. A very bad thing.

      Kirk Kendell had been almost mind-numbingly good-looking, too, with the same jet-black hair and green eyes, the same chiseled, sexy looks. That would have been the only way she could describe it. Mind-numbing. Because, during their relationship that occurred the last two years she was in college, her mind had certainly been numbed. Or, more accurately, missing in action. On the occasions that she allowed herself to look back, she silently referred to that time frame as her stupid period.

      She didn’t like being reminded of it.

      Which gave Jared Stevens a very big strike against him.

      “Is something wrong?” The deep voice filled the room and rolled over her like a warm desert wind. It made her think of chocolate, deep and rich.

      Still standing in the doorway, she took a breath. Took control. She became the epitome of efficiency as she willed her legs to move. “No, why?”

      He was smiling now and she felt her stomach lurch, then tighten. He had the kind of smile that whispered “seduction.”

      “Because you’re staring,” he told her as he rose to his feet.

      At least he has manners, she thought.

      Maren cleared her throat and walked into the room, purposely leaving the door open behind her. Air tended to become scarce in the small office at times and, right now, she needed all the air she could get.

      She said the first thing that popped into her head. “Just trying to envision you in a chef’s hat.”

      He looked surprised and somewhat bemused. One dark, perfectly shaped eyebrow raised itself higher than the other. “Then I have the job?”

      “No, you don’t.” She did her best to sound professional and not curt. “I was just jumping ahead.” It was a lie, but she wasn’t at her most creative right then.

      Taking her chair, she motioned for him to sit down again. Maren picked up the résumé on her desk. Although she’d already gone over it once, she scanned it again. The names of his previous employers were far from run-of-the-mill or average. Valentino’s in New York and The Cattleman in Dallas. Both restaurants demanded perfection.

      “Impressive,” she commented. Normally gregarious and bent on putting people at their ease, she held herself in check. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion evident in her voice. She raised her eyes to his. “You seem to move around a lot.”

      “Not a lot,” he countered. She noticed no trace of a regional-defining accent in his voice. “Just New York City and Dallas. I always wanted to see them,” he added in a tone that seemed unsettlingly intimate, as if he was sharing a secret with her. “And a man has to eat.”

      “That’s what we’re counting on,” she responded in her most crisp, distant voice.

      The open door wasn’t helping. The air stood still today. His eyes looked as if he could see right into her thoughts, her sudden vulnerability.

      She liked to think of herself as a confident woman. Despite everything that had happened


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