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      Lady Surrender

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      CHARLY barely had time to click back the lock on the apartment door before it was pushed forcibly open, knocking her off-balance as she grabbed at the towel she had quickly draped about herself when the doorbell rang seconds ago, having to get out of the shower to answer it.

      The man who had pushed his way in towered over her five foot frame, but there was still challenge in her wide grey eyes as she looked up at him, successfully hiding her nervousness at this intrusion. ‘I don’t know who you are—–’

      ‘No,’ he acknowledged harshly. ‘But I know who you are!’ His aggressive accent was definitely American.

      ‘Obviously,’ she drawled. ‘If you’re after money or jewellery I think I should tell you I don’t have any here.’

      His green-eyed gaze raked over her contemptuously. ‘Women like you only have one jewel, lady, and even that gets tarnished after a while.’

      Charly gasped at the crude insult, all nervousness fading. ‘If you want to take what valuables there are then do so and leave,’ she instructed haughtily.

      His mouth twisted. ‘You’re pretty free with what doesn’t belong to you, aren’t you?’ he scorned derisively. ‘But then you have no idea of morality, do you?’

      ‘I beg your pardon!’ She raised light brown brows indignantly, their indistinctive colour making it difficult to tell whether the hair beneath the second towel she had draped around her wet hair was blonde, brunette, or auburn, or a mixture of all three.

      ‘I’m not the one you should be apologising to—–’

      ‘Are you some sort of political fanatic?’ Charly frowned suspiciously.

      ‘Hell, no!’

      ‘Then what do you want? If it’s me, I ought to tell you I’ve been taught self-defence.’

      ‘Lady, I wouldn’t care if you were a judo and Kung Fu expert rolled into one,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘I’m not about to let a five foot nothing woman defeat me in achieving what I came here to do!’

      As he must have stood about six foot four, was deeply muscled beneath the pale green shirt and leather jacket, his legs lean and strong beneath black trousers, and her self-defence classes had been nowhere near as expert as judo or Kung Fu, he could be right! But she wasn’t about to let him know that. ‘My husband is in the bedroom,’ she told him firmly, hoping the classical lie in a situation like this sounded more convincing to him than it did to her.

      The green eyes became contemptuous. ‘You don’t have a husband of your own, only someone else’s—and I happen to know he’s out of town!’

      Charly gave an irritated frown. ‘Are you sure you have the right apartment?’ Maybe they could laugh together about this once he realised his mistake—but she doubted it. This man was beyond a joke, and the situation wasn’t at all funny!

      In other circumstances she might even have thought him attractive. He had a certain rakish appearance, casually styled black hair, a reckless light in those deep green eyes, his mouth firmly sculptured, his jaw square, his lean body obviously kept in physical health, although the cynicism in his expression wasn’t quite as attractive, or the derision for her he didn’t try to hide behind politeness.

      ‘This is Matt Parker’s apartment, isn’t it?’ he rasped.

      ‘Yes,’ she frowned.

      ‘And you are Charly, aren’t you?’

      She stiffened. ‘Only my friends are allowed to call me that.’

      He gave her a contemptuous look. ‘And I’m sure there are a lot of them, honey—all male!’

      She drew in an angry breath. ‘I don’t know if you mean to be insulting—–’

      ‘Oh, I do,’ he drawled. ‘Believe me, I do!’

      ‘You don’t know the first thing about me—–’

      ‘I know the only thing I want to know about you,’ he scoffed. ‘Matt must have been insane to get mixed up with a woman like you.’ He looked at her critically. ‘Admittedly, you’re beautiful—–’

      ‘Thank you!’ she said with sarcasm.

      ‘In an earthy sort of way.’ His gaze lingered on the pert fullness of her breasts and the generous curve of her hips. ‘But you certainly don’t look worth throwing away eight years of marriage, a lovely wife, and two kids for!’ he added scathingly.

      ‘I’m sure you’re right—–’

      ‘You bet I am. And when Matt gets back from this damned trip he’s going to thank me for finishing things between you—after I’ve killed him,’ he muttered grimly. ‘I did enough bailing out for him at university; I don’t expect to still have to do it!’

      Charly was more puzzled than ever. ‘You were at university with Matt?’

      ‘Yes. Now when Molly gets here I want you to—–’

      ‘Matt’s wife is coming here?’ She frowned her confusion. ‘Whatever for?’

      ‘Don’t act dumb,’ he scowled. ‘Or maybe you are,’ he derided. ‘A mistress doesn’t usually answer the telephone in her lover’s apartment and speak to his wife! Unless you’re trying to break them up?’ he grated. ‘You don’t fancy being the next Mrs Matt Parker, do you?’ he scorned. ‘Believe me, it will never happen. Matt may be infatuated with you at the moment, but he’ll listen to me when I tell him you’re nothing but a mercenary little tramp.’

      Charly had a feeling much like it must be to be run over by a steam-roller! ‘I’m sure he will,’ she answered dazedly.

      He nodded, as if there were no doubting the fact.

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