LITMIR.BIZ

      SARA CRAVEN was born in South Devon, and grew up in a house full of books. She worked as a local journalist, covering everything from flower shows to murders, and started writing for Mills & Boon in 1975. When not writing, she enjoys films, music, theatre, cooking and eating in good restaurants. She now lives near her family in Warwickshire. Sara has appeared as a contestant on the former UK game show Fifteen to One and in 1997 was the television Mastermind champion. In 2005 she was a member of the Romantic Novelists’ team on University Challenge—the Professionals.

       Chapter One

      THEY SAID THE only sure things in life were death and taxes, Marin Wade thought as she lifted the sponge and squeezed wonderfully warm, scented water over her shoulders and down her breasts. But there was an additional certainty—that as soon as you got into a hot and longed-for bath the phone would ring.

      Just as it was doing at this very moment.

      Yet for once she would not be scrambling out, cursing and reaching for a towel in order to obey its summons because—oh joy, oh bliss—it was not her phone.

      Whoever it was at the other end could speak to the answering machine.

      Of course, it might be Lynne calling to check that she was settling in and that all was well, but if so she’d leave a message too. And later, when Marin was bathed and fed, she’d ring back and thank her stepsister yet again for offering her this temporary bolt hole with so few questions asked. Up to now, at least, she thought wryly.

      Lynne was three years her senior, and since their parents had retired to a villa beside a golf course in Portugal she’d taken her elder-sister role very seriously indeed. So when she returned on Sunday night she’d want to know why Marin’s dream job had come to a premature end.

      And by then it might be good to have someone to confide in over the entire nasty mess.

      Because she would be starting to feel better about it all. Once she’d got over her tiredness and the chaos of the last twenty-four hours and could think straight, she’d have this whole weekend to herself to start making plans and being positive about her life, rather than wanting to howl.

      Of course, she’d have to wait until Monday to find out if she still had a job with the agency, or if her erstwhile employer’s threat to have her fired had born fruit, she thought unhappily. But at least she could start looking for somewhere to live until her own flat became available again.

      Not that it wasn’t gorgeous here. Lynne had told her she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted, but she needed to stand on her own two feet and get herself together again as soon as possible.

      She looked around her almost in awe. This bathroom alone was to-die-for, she thought; its soft, aqua tiles made you imagine that you were floating in some warm, foreign sea. Add to that the spacious living room with its raised dining-alcove, the state-of-the-art kitchen and the two elegantly fitted bedrooms, and Marin was as near to living in the lap of luxury as she was ever likely to get.

      What she couldn’t quite figure was how Lynne could possibly afford such a sumptuous environment.

      Her stepsister was, of course, the personal assistant of Jake Radley-Smith, principal of one of the most successful financial public-relations firms in the UK—but surely she’d have

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