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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      EPILOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘SO, TELL me more about this party tonight?’

      ‘What’s to tell?’ Finn Maclean spun the wheel of his large Mercedes to avoid a taxi, doing an illegal U-turn in the middle of Notting Hill Gate. ‘It’s just going to be the usual media shindig. Lots of champagne; loud music; not enough food—and everyone yelling at the top of their voices.’

      ‘Any gorgeous-looking girls?’ Tim asked hopefully.

      ‘No problem—there’ll be plenty of them!’ Finn turned to grin at his old friend. ‘But whether they’ll have anything inside their beautiful heads—apart from an interest in the size of your wallet, of course—is highly unlikely.’

      ‘That’s OK by me. I’m not fussy!’ Tim laughed as Finn deftly slotted the vehicle into a parking space and switched off the engine.

      ‘Well, good hunting! But you may have to find your own way home—because I’m not intending to stay very long,’ Finn warned him. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t have bothered to turn up if I hadn’t arranged to meet someone who knows of an apartment I can rent.’

      ‘But I thought you’d just bought that amazing penthouse in Holland Park?’

      ‘Yes, so I have. But unfortunately it needs a total refit,’ Finn said as he opened his car door. ‘And with carpenters, plumbers, and goodness knows who else crawling all over the place, it makes sense to clear out and leave them to it.’

      ‘How long is it going to take?’

      ‘About six months. And that’s the problem,’ Finn explained. ‘Because I need to live in this area—if only to keep an eye on the builders. Unfortunately, it’s proving extremely difficult to find anyone willing to rent me a flat for just a few months. Which is why,’ he added, ‘I’m dragging you along to what is likely to be a dead boring party—instead of us having a quiet dinner and a good bottle of wine at the Halcyon.’

      ‘That’s OK by me,’ Tim assured him. ‘But how come someone who’s had more girls than I’ve had hot dinners should be sounding so unenthusiastic about the prospect of wine, women and song? Which reminds me,’ he added with a grin. ‘What’s happened to the lovely Linda?’

      ‘I imagine that she’s still as lovely as ever,’ Finn drawled coolly. ‘However, I can’t give you an up-to-date report, since Linda and I split up well over six months ago.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Tim murmured. ‘What happened?’

      ‘Nothing very dramatic.’ Finn shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘She wanted to get married—and I didn’t. End of story.’

      Climbing out of the car, Tim found himself wondering why his old friend—who was not only amazingly good-looking, but also a very wealthy and highly successful man—hadn’t yet found the right woman. Maybe it was something to do with the guy being almost too attractive?

      Such an idea would never have occurred to him if his older married sister, Susie, after comforting one of Finn’s tearful ex-girlfriends, hadn’t bluntly stated, ‘That man is far too attractive and sexy for his own good. As far as I can see, he only has to turn those amazing blue eyes on a girl—and she’s a goner!’

      However, when Tim had said that he wouldn’t mind having the same problem, his sister had merely given a caustic laugh before telling him to count his blessings.

      ‘You may be a boring old stick, Tim, but at least when a girl comes on to you it’s because she really likes you, and finds you interesting. Can you imagine the sheer boredom of having women throwing themselves at you—morning, noon and night?’

      ‘I reckon I could hack it,’ he’d retorted with a grin, before changing the subject. But it had since occurred to him that there might well be something in what his sister had said, after all.

      While there was no doubt that his old friend was a genuinely nice, upright sort of guy—good with children, kind to old ladies and all that jazz—he was definitely spoilt as far as the female sex were concerned. Why, even now, as they entered the bar and restaurant which had been taken over by the film company for the evening, Finn’s appearance was instantly greeted with cries of delight by practically every woman in the place.

      Way to go! he told himself, shaking his head ruefully as his friend was immediately surrounded by a crowd of nubile blonde nymphets, leaving Tim to make his own solitary way to the bar.

      ‘I can’t think why I let you drag me here…’ Harriet muttered, casting an apprehensive eye at the long line of expensive limousines double-parked outside the large white building. ‘This type of ultra-glamorous function really isn’t my kind of thing.’

      ‘Don’t be so stuffy! Besides, this is definitely one of the “in” places, at the moment,’ Sophie retorted as the large plate glass doors flew open at their approach.

      ‘But I’m not a sort of “in” person,’ Harriet protested weakly. ‘In fact, most of the time these days I’m feeling decidedly “out.”’

      ‘That’s only because you insist on going out with that boring banker of yours,’ Sophie told her, before giving their names to the doorman.

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