Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

‘I didn’t want you in my life.’ He grimaced. ‘I had lived without love in my life for so long, and I didn’t want it there then either.’

‘And now?’ Silke kissed the length of his jaw.

‘Now I wish we were already married and I could take you away somewhere and make love to you without interruption,’ he admitted huskily. ‘But I doubt either Henry or your mother would let us get away with that; it will have to be the whole “white wedding” bit!’

She looked up at him searchingly. ‘Not if that isn’t what you want.’ She shook her head. ‘I was going to have that once before, and it isn’t important—’

‘Silke.’ He looked down at her intently now. ‘I want to see you walking down the aisle to me in a silky white gown, want to watch with pride as you become my wife. Cameron was an idiot,’ he grimly repeated the accusation he had made once before concerning James.

‘I was never going away with him, Lyon,’ Silke assured him. ‘I only let you go on believing that so that you would leave.’

He nodded. ‘I realise that now.’

‘James’s marriage had been going through a rough patch, and he—well, he thought—’

‘I don’t give a damn what he thought.’ Lyon’s arms tightened about her possessively. ‘Now that I know you love me, he isn’t coming anywhere near you ever again!’

But she would send James his wedding invitation, just so that he would know she and Lyon had ‘sorted things out’, and that she was going to be happy; she knew James would have enough sense not actually to attend the wedding!

‘I don’t want him anywhere near me again,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘I didn’t want him near me on the two occasions you did see him.’

‘Good,’ Lyon said with satisfaction. ‘It totally threw me when I realised he was back in your life,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘But it certainly took my mind off Henry and your mother.’ He grimaced. ‘Their relationship suddenly took second place in my priorities!’

‘It didn’t seem that way,’ Silke frowned. Although, thinking about it, perhaps Lyon had become less intense about Henry and her mother after seeing James at her flat that evening...

‘Quite honestly—’ Lyon gave a rueful smile ‘—Henry could have married a twenty-five-year-old bunny girl after that and I wouldn’t have objected!’ He looked down at her teasingly.

Silke gave a soft laugh. ‘You’re not going to let me forget that incident in a hurry, are you?’ She hugged him for the sheer pleasure of being able to do so; she loved this man with every part of her. And the miracle was, he loved her in return.

‘When I’m Henry’s age I’ll be telling our grandchildren about the way we first met!’ he warned her affectionately.

She didn’t doubt he would too. And just the thought of those children and grandchildren was enough to fill her with a warm glow for their future together.

‘Our children will grow up in a loving family, Silke,’ he assured her huskily, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘There will be none of the loneliness for them that we both knew in our own childhoods. They will have two parents who love them. And, more importantly, who love each other,’ he added with satisfaction.

And they did love each other. Very much. And they would continue to do so. Silke didn’t doubt it for a moment, knew that neither of them had fallen in love lightly. And it was a love that would last a lifetime.

The war was over at last. And both of them had won...

Two’s Company (#ulink_ff23a701-ad28-53b3-9993-3ad3772bba78)

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?"

He eyed her disbelievingly.

Just the one. Simon. But he had died. And she hadn’t allowed herself to love anyone since him.

Liam’s mouth twisted. “You seem to be taking a long time finding an answer to that question,” he taunted.

She drew in a deep, steadying breath. She had no intention of owning up to a boyfriend, because she had no intention of talking about Simon. Certainly not to this man.

“Why is my personal life of interest to you, Liam?” She used his first name deliberately now, the familiarity putting them back on an equal footing. “Our discussion is merely on a business level,” she reminded him firmly.

He calmly met the challenge in her gaze. “I like to know all there is to know about the people I do business with."

For the attention of the Reader

Dear Madam (#ulink_d845444a-a2c3-558a-8add-b1597368f7f7),

Re: 9 to 5

We have pleasure in drawing your attention to our new series of stories with company settings. You have written to us at Mills & Boon Modern on many occasions to tell us how much you enjoy office romances. So, it is at the top of our agenda to give you six sizzling months of business affairs.

Because you’re the boss and we work to give you nothing but the best, the first vacancy in the 9 to 5 series is filled by your very favorite author, Carole Mortimer. We can guarantee that her story of Juliet and Liam, as they struggle to save their company and not to fall for each other, will entertain and enthrall you right to its very end.

9 to 5: it’s the business!

Sincerely,

The Editor

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_a4f4f0cb-1235-5de8-9246-244d15e99484)

‘YOU’RE standing in the way of my view.’

Juliet turned towards the source of the voice, startled out of her early morning reverie by its intrusion, even more startled when she saw the man frowning across at her as he lay on a lounger on the patio a short distance away.

She had been totally unaware of anyone else’s presence as she stood near the sea-shore staring out across the calm water, the beauty of the sunrise reflected on that water also lost on her as she wondered how much longer she was going to have to stay here. To most people it wouldn’t have been a hardship to stay on at this exclusive hotel on the paradise island of Majorca, but Juliet wasn’t most people, and she wasn’t here to enjoy herself!

And she certainly wasn’t in the mood to put up with what she considered to be this man’s rudeness; he might have paid to stay in this hotel too—as she knew, very much so!—but the cost of his hotel suite didn’t give him exclusive rights to the view.

Grey eyes surrounded by long dark lashes flashed a warning of her displeasure at being attacked in this way. ‘I thought the view belonged to everyone,’ she snapped back, putting up a hand to push the heavy swath of her blazing red hair back over her shoulder, having left her own suite earlier without bothering to secure it at her nape as she usually did.

She had been on the island almost a week now, and she found the nights the most difficult to deal with. She had no trouble keeping herself occupied during the day, but at night she would fall into a troubled sleep for a couple of hours, and then wake up at about three o’clock in the morning unable to go back to sleep again. She had taken to going for long walks along the sea-shore as soon as it became light, and this morning had been no exception.

Two more days, she had decided on this morning’s walk, and then she would give up her vigil and go back home to England. She was solving absolutely nothing by staying on here anyway; the person she had come here to see just wasn’t going to put in an appearance, and she might as well accept that.

The man stood up from the lounger, tall and lithe in a black T-shirt and fitted denims, his over-long hair glinting golden in the sunshine, eyes the blue of the water lapping in front of them, and squinted in the bright early morning sun as he stared across the width of his patio-area at her.

It was only just after six o’clock in the morning, too early for any of the other hotel guests to be up and about, and Juliet was suddenly aware, as the man walked towards her, of just how alone the two of them were. And he didn’t exactly sound friendly, either; in fact, he was distinctly hostile!

As he came to stand just in front of her Juliet realised exactly how tall he was, dwarfing her five feet two in height by at least a foot, making her even more conscious of her own vulnerability alone on the sea-shore with him.

‘The view does belong to everyone,’ he murmured in that husky voice. ‘I was just surprised to see someone else out and about this early in the morning.’

And that gave him the right to be rude to her? As far as apologies went it wasn’t exactly effusive, but then this man gave the impression of rarely, if ever, making apologies for anything!

Up close like this he looked to be in his late thirties, had a ruggedly handsome face, dark lashes surrounding those sharply alert blue eyes, his nose long and straight, his mouth a sculptured curve, the chin square and powerful. And he was looking down that long nose at her now, no matter how pleasant his words just now might have sounded.