LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      About the Author

      Initially a French/English teacher, EMMA DARCY changed careers to computer programming before the happy demands of marriage and motherhood. Very much a people person, and always interested in relationships, she finds the world of romance fiction a thrilling one, and the challenge of creating her own cast of characters very addictive.

       Recent titles by the same author:

      HIDDEN MISTRESS, PUBLIC WIFE

      THE BILLIONAIRE’S HOUSEKEEPER BRIDE THE MASTER PLAYER

      CHAPTER ONE

      FRIDAY afternoon in the office of the man Jake Freedman had every reason to hate, and he could barely contain his impatience to leave. Soon, very soon, he would have all the evidence to indict Alex Costarella for the vulture he was, picking over the carcasses of bankrupted companies to feed his own bankroll. Then he could leave for good. In the meantime, the facade of aspiring to be Costarella’s right-hand man in the liquidation business could not afford any cracks.

      ‘It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday,’ the big man remarked, eyeing Jake with speculative interest. ‘You don’t have any family, do you?’

       Not since you helped to kill my stepfather.

      Jake managed a rueful smile. ‘Lost both my parents in my teens.’

      ‘Yes, I remember you saying so. Difficult for you. Makes it all the more admirable that you pushed on with a career path and have made such a fine job of it.’

      Every step of the way had been burning with the ambition to take this man down. And he would. It had taken ten years to get to this point—accountancy, law, building up experience in Costarella’s business, gaining his confidence. Only a few more months now …

      ‘I’d like you to meet my daughter.’

      Shock startled Jake out of his secret brooding and rattled his ruthless determination. He’d never thought about the vulture’s family, or what effect his own actions might have on them. He raised his eyebrows enquiringly. Was the daughter about to come into her father’s business or … was this some weird attempt at matchmaking?

      ‘Laura is a stunner in any man’s language. Smart girl and a great cook,’ Costarella declared with an inviting smile. ‘Come to lunch at my home on Sunday and find out for yourself.’

      A sales pitch! And a set-up for a connection to be made!

      Jake inwardly recoiled from an up-close-and-personal involvement with anyone related to this man. His hand moved instinctively in a negative gesture. ‘I’d be intruding on your family day.’

      ‘I want you to come, Jake.’

      The expression on his face brooked no refusal. It was a strong, handsome face, framed by thick, steel-grey hair and dominated by steel-grey eyes—a face imbued with the confidence of a man who could and did take control of anything and bend it to his will.

      Jake knew instantly that if he persisted in declining the invitation, the approval rating that gave him access to the evidence he needed could be lost. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he rolled out with an appreciative smile. ‘If you’re sure I’d be welcome …’

      Any doubt on that score was clearly irrelevant. What Costarella wanted, he got. ‘Make it eleven-thirty,’ he said without hesitation. ‘You know where I live?’

      ‘Yes. Thank you. I’ll look forward to it.’

      ‘Good! I’ll see you then.’ The grey eyes glittered with satisfaction. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’

      Jake nodded, taking his dismissal as gracefully as he could, knowing he had to turn up on Sunday, knowing he had to show an interest in the daughter, and hating the idea with every fibre of his being.

      Why Costarella wanted this, he didn’t know. It seemed ridiculously patriarchal in this day and age to be lining up a suitor, as though people were pawns to be moved as he wished. Nevertheless, it was typical of the callous mentality of the man. He moved to his own beat, not giving a damn about anyone else’s interests.

      Jake had to go along with him, play for time, protect his own agenda. If he had to start dating Laura Costarella he would, but no way would he allow himself to become emotionally attached to her, regardless of how beautiful and smart she was.

       She was the daughter of the enemy.

      He wasn’t about to forget that.

      Ever.

       Mother’s Day …

      Laura Costarella wished it could be what it was supposed to be—a beautiful, memorable day for her mother with her children showing their love and appreciation for all she’d done for them, and their father being happy with the family they’d created together.

      It wasn’t going to be like that.

      Her father had invited a special guest to the family lunch and from the smug little smile accompanying this announcement, Laura strongly suspected that the guest would be used to show up the shortcomings in his son and daughter, as well as the failings of the mother who had raised them.

      Jake Freedman—a hard name, and undoubtedly as hard in character as her father was, or he wouldn’t have risen so fast to the top of the tree in the Costarella Accountancy Company, which raked in millions from bankrupt firms. Did he know how he was going to be used today? Did he care?

      Laura shook her head over the futile speculation. What would happen would happen. She couldn’t stop it. All she could do was cook her mother’s favourite foods for lunch and try to deflect the barbs of her father’s discontent with his family. Keep smiling, she told herself, no matter what.

      She hoped her brother would follow that advice today, too, for their mother’s sake. No eruption into a resentful rage. No walking out. Just smile and shrug off any critical remarks like water off a duck’s back.

      Surely it wasn’t too much to ask for Eddie to keep his testosterone in check for one short day.

      The doorbell rang as she finished preparing the vegetables for baking as she’d seen done on the cooking show that was one of her favourite television programs. They were ready to slip into the oven with the slowly roasting leg of lamb when the time was right. The pumpkin and bacon soup only had to be reheated. The cream was whipped and the lemon-lime tart was in the refrigerator waiting to be served.

      She quickly washed her hands, removed her apron and pasted a smile on her face, determined to greet their visitor with all the charm she could muster.

      Jake stood at the front door to Alex Costarella’s Mosman mansion, steeling himself to be an appreciative and charming

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