Flawless

Flawless
Sara Craven

Mills & Boon proudly presents THE SARA CRAVEN COLLECTION. Sara’s powerful and passionate romances have captivated and thrilled readers all over the world for five decades and made her an international bestseller.FLAWLESSShe'd finally have her revengeAs a gawky, plain teenager, Carly suffered bitter disillusion at the hands of Saul Kingsland. And she’s been waiting for the right time to teach him a lesson.Now an acknowledged beauty and successful model, Carly could afford to be generous. But she had no intention of forgiving and forgetting the past.So she laid her plans carefully, put them into action – only then realising that the price might be too high for her to pay…

Flawless

Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

Table of Contents

Cover (#u77062130-1b16-502b-bc6b-5e8c92c0c199)

Title Page (#ufd5fecc7-0f96-59a2-9917-1b0595fc5746)

About the Author (#u2c36dc07-6ccd-58b3-9452-6610f48c7409)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Endpage (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u1af7ac8e-d8f1-5a34-bbc6-a32f6a869863)

‘BUT YOU HATE this kind of occasion,’ said Clive. ‘You always have. You call them “meat auctions” and “slave markets”. You know you do.’

Carly, seated at her dressing-table, applying blusher with a practised hand, gave his irate reflection the smile the camera loved. ‘That’s quite right.’

‘Then why in hell are we all going to the Flawless reception?’

‘I changed my mind.’

‘Now, that I don’t believe.’ Clive turned on his wife who was lounging on Carly’s bed, leafing through a copy of Harpers Bazaar. ‘Speak to her, Marge.’

‘Waste of breath,’ said Marge serenely. She eyed wistfully a photograph of a reed-slender black cocktail dress. ‘Oh, why haven’t I got thirty-four-inch hips?’

‘Because you have three children,’ said Clive, and brightened. ‘Now there’s a thought,’ he said beguilingly. ‘Why don’t we scrap the Flawless do, go back to the house, and challenge the monsters to a team game of Trivial Pursuit?’

‘No,’ Marge and Carly said in unison, and he glared at them.

‘Why not?’

‘Because they always beat us,’ said his wife.

‘And because we’re going to the Flawless party.’ Carly reached for a mascara wand, and began to pay minute attention to her eyelashes. ‘It’s important to me, Clive.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ The end of Clive’s tether seemed to be fast approaching. ‘They want a pretty girl to launch a new range of cosmetics, that’s all. Just because they’ve hyped it into the search for the new Scarlett O’Hara, it still doesn’t make it any big deal.’

Carly sighed. ‘Clive, you’re my agent. Don’t you want me to get work?’

‘You do get work. I get you work. I have things in the pipeline now that will make the Flawless deal look like yesterday’s news.’ He dragged a chair forward and sat down. ‘Sweetie, you’re at a crucial point in your career. I don’t think the Flawless job would be a particularly good move for you.’

‘Is that what you’ve told all your clients?’

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘It will be a fabulous chance—for somebody.’

‘Then why not me?’

‘Because it would place you under an exclusive contract to them for a year and probably far longer. You wouldn’t be able to take other assignments, and you’d be typed as the Flawless Girl for ever after.’

‘I’m ready to risk that.’

‘But why?’ howled Clive. ‘You’ve trusted my judgement in the past. Why are you doing this to me—to yourself?’

Carly replaced the mascara in her make-up kit. ‘I have an instinct about it. Besides,’ she paused, ‘it’s an ambition of mine to be photographed by Saul Kingsland.’

Marge looked up. ‘Now you’re talking,’ she said. ‘I hear he’s an absolute dish. Good-looking and sexy as hell.’

‘Oh, do you?’ snorted Clive. ‘Well, I hear he’s a complete bastard. His models end up in tears, and his assistants have nervous breakdowns.’

Carly’s brows rose. ‘But he’s a genius with a camera. And I suppose genius has to be allowed a certain amount of—artistic temperament.’

‘That’s not all Flawless are allowing him,’ Clive said sourly. ‘He also gets a free hand to pick The Girl.’ He exhaled, frowning. ‘Carly, every hopeful in modelling will be there tonight, parading themselves in front of him, and a few that should have given up hope by now,’ he added grimly. ‘You don’t need to do this. If you’re really so set on the damned job, I’ll get on to Septimus Creed. His agency’s handling the campaign, after all, so he should be able to pull some strings with Kingsland—and he owes me a favour …’

‘No!’ Carly banged her fist on the dressing-table, making the jars and bottles jump. Clive and Marge jumped too, and stared at her.

She bit her lip. ‘I—I’m sorry. But I don’t want any string-pulling. I want to go to the reception, and be chosen on my own merits.’