A Yuletide Seduction

A Yuletide Seduction
Carole Mortimer

Everybody knows her as Jane Smith, a successful businesswoman. What they don't know is that Jane has also successfully distanced herself from her past.Until she meets handsome American Gabriel Vaughan at a Christmas party. Gabe's determined to get close to her, seduce her and sooner or later he'll recognize her…as a former society lady with a secret…

“I want you, Jane—”

She pulled sharply away from him. “You can’t have me, Gabe,” she told him dully. “Because I don’t want you. I realize it must be difficult for the eligible Gabriel Vaughan to accept that a woman may not want him—”

“Cut the insults, Jane,” he put in scathingly. “I heard what you said the first time around! What is it about you, Jane?” he added. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I set eyes on you!”

CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She started writing in 1978, and has now written over 100 books for Harlequin Presents

.

Carole has four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—who keep her on her toes. She is very happily married to Peter, Sr. They live on the Isle of Man.

A Yuletide Seduction

Carole Mortimer

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

GOLD.

Bright, shiny, tarnished gold.

She didn’t want to touch it any more than she needed to, didn’t want it touching her either, the metal seeming to burn her flesh where it nestled on her left hand.

She pulled the gold from her finger. It wasn’t difficult to do. She was so much slimmer than when the ring had first been placed on her finger. In fact, the ring had become so loose that it had spun loosely against her skin, only her knuckles stopping it from falling off by itself.

How she wished it had fallen off, fallen to the ground, never to be seen again. She should have pulled it off, wrenched it from her finger, weeks ago, months ago, but she had been consumed with other things. This tiny scrap of gold lying in the palm of her hand hadn’t seemed important then.

But it was important now. It was the only physical reminder she had that she had ever—ever—

Her fingers closed around the small ring of metal, so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, breaking through the skin. But she was immune to the pain. She even welcomed it. Because that slight stinging sensation in her hand, the show of blood, told her that she, at least, was still real. Everything around her seemed to have crumbled and fallen apart, until there was nothing left. She was the only reality, it seemed.

And this ring.

She unclenched her fingers, staring down at the ring, fighting back the memories just the sight of it evoked. Lies. All lies! And now he was dead, as dead as their marriage had been.

Oh, God, no! She wouldn’t cry. Never that. Not again. Not ever again!

She quickly blinked back those tears before they could fall. Remember. She had to remember, to keep on remembering, before she would be allowed to forget! If she ever did…

But first she had to get rid of this ring. She never wanted it near her again, never wanted to set eyes on it again, or for anyone else to do so either.

Her fingers curled around it again, but lightly this time, and she lifted up her arm, swung it back as far as it would go, before launching it forward again. And as she did so she threw the ring as far as it would go, as far away from her as she could make it fly, watching as it spun through the air in what seemed like slow motion, making hardly a ripple in the water as it was swallowed up by the swiftly running river in front of her, falling down, to be sucked in by the mud and slime at the bottom of the river.

It took her several breath-holding seconds to realise it had gone. Finally. Irrevocably. And with its falling came release, freedom, a freedom she hadn’t known for such a long, long time.

But freedom to do what…?

CHAPTER TWO

‘TAKE the cups through to—’ Jane abruptly broke off her calm instruction as one of those cups landed with a crash on the kitchen floor, its delicate china breaking into a dozen pieces. The three women in the room stared down at it, with the one who had dropped it looking absolutely horrified at what she had done.

‘Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry.’ Paula groaned her dismay. ‘I don’t know what happened. I’ll pay for it, of course. I—’

‘Don’t be silly, Paula,’ Jane dismissed, still calmly.

Once upon a time—and not so long ago—an accident like this would have sent Jane into a panic, the money she would have to pay for the replacement cup cutting deeply into the profit she would make from catering a private dinner party. But those days were gone now, thank goodness. Now she could afford the odd loss without considering it a disaster. Besides, if this evening was the success Felicity Warner hoped it would be, then Jane doubted the other woman would be too concerned that one of the coffee cups in her twelve-place-setting dinner service had met with an accident.

‘Take the cups through.’ Jane replaced the broken cup, putting it carefully beside the other seven already on the tray. ‘Rosemary will bring the coffee. I’ll clear away the broken cup.’ She gave Paula’s arm a reassuring squeeze before the two women left the high-tech kitchen to serve coffee to the Warners and their six dinner guests.

Jane almost laughed at herself as she bent down, dustpan and brush in her hand. In the last two years since she’d first begun this exclusive catering service to the rich and influential, she had moved from a one-woman band to being able to employ people like Paula and Rosemary to help with the serving, at least. But, nonetheless, she was back down on her hands and knees sweeping up! Some things just never changed!

‘My dear Jane, I just had to— Darling…?’ Felicity Warner herself had come out to the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt as she spotted Jane on the floor behind the breakfast-bar. ‘What on earth—?’

Jane straightened, holding out the dustpan containing the broken cup. ‘You’ll be reimbursed, of course—’