LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      LUCY KING spent her formative years lost in the world of Mills & Boon^® romance when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and absolute ablatives didn’t stand a chance.

      But as she couldn’t live in a dream world for ever she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra and carrying a threemetre oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew she’d met the man she was going to marry. Luckily the rower thought the same.

      She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type Chapter One, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.

      Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of the time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work. Visit her at www.lucyking.net

       A recent book by the same author:

      BOUGHT: DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

      For Justin—

      possibly the most patient man on the planet

      Chapter One

      ‘MARK, STEP AWAY from the flamingo and get out of the pond. Please.’

      Phoebe heard the note of desperation in her voice and prayed it would be enough to penetrate the alcohol-fogged brain of the man who was lurching around the pond and brandishing a bottle of champagne.

      ‘Darling,’ slurred Mark as he swung round and threw her a lopsided grin while water lilies slapped around his knees. ‘You keep trying to persuade me to get out, but I don’t want to.’

      He waggled his finger at her and her spirits sank. No amount of cajoling or threatening had had the slightest effect so why on earth had she thought desperation would have worked?

      ‘That much is obvious,’ she muttered and racked her brains for a solution. Dealing with problems was part of her job, but right now she was stumped.

      ‘I have a suggestion.’ He swayed wildly and Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat.

      Unless he revealed that he planned to take himself off somewhere quiet and sober up, preferably on the other side of London, she didn’t think she wanted to hear it. ‘What is it?’

      Mark spread his arms wide and grinned. ‘Why don’t you jump in and join me? The water’s great and I’d like to introduce you to my new friend.’ He turned and stumbled after the flamingo, which had hopped out of range and was now preening its feathers.

      Phoebe shivered and sighed and wondered what she’d done to deserve this. It had clearly been far too much to hope that this evening might remain trouble free, but for a moment everything had been going so well.

      So the opulent crimson and silver theme that ran throughout the bar wasn’t really to her taste, and the huge chandeliers that sprinkled light over the glittering throng were, in her opinion, totally over the top. And as for allowing birds to wander freely around the gardens six storeys above street level, well, that, as this little episode had proved, was a recipe for disaster, however unique and fashionable.

      However, none of that mattered. Not one little bit.

      All that mattered was that the San Lorenzo Roof Gardens was the trendiest new venue in town. It was the place to hold a pre-launch party for a hip young handbag designer, and it was virtually impossible to book.

      But she’d done it. She’d spent weeks flattering the unyielding Mr Bogoni until he’d cracked and agreed to let her hire the venue, and had then poured hours of meticulous planning and endless preparation into ensuring that this would be a party that people would gossip about for months.

      Inside the bar buzzed with a subtle air of excitement and expectation, fuelled by exquisite canapés and the finest champagne. Jo’s gemstone-encrusted handbags sat high on their individually spotlit pedestals, refracting the light like multicoloured glitter balls, and the star of the show herself was mingling among the one hundred glamorous guests and chatting to the carefully selected journalists as if she’d been doing it for years instead of an hour.

      Jo Douglas, Phoebe’s first and currently only client, was heading for the stratosphere, and the fledgling Jackson Communications would soar right alongside her.

      So she was not going to stand back and let Jo’s boyfriend ruin an evening she’d worked so hard to put together.

      Phoebe’s jaw set. There was only one thing for it. She had to get rid of Mark. Discreetly and quickly before someone with a camera decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. And as the bar was getting warmer by the minute, she didn’t have any time to lose.

      Right. Phoebe broke a twig off an overhanging branch and stuck it between her teeth. She twisted her hair into a thick rope, wound it deftly onto the top of her head and secured it with the twig. Then she slipped out of her shoes and wriggled to hitch her dress up her thighs.

      Taking a deep fortifying breath and trying not to think about what might lurk beneath the surface of the water, she gave herself a quick shake, straightened her spine and set her sights on her target.

      ‘Do you need a hand?’

      The deep voice came from behind her and Phoebe shrieked, jumped almost a foot into the air and nearly pitched headlong into the pond. She spun round, her hand

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