LITMIR.BIZ

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       Too angry to stop and clear her vision, she would have walked straight into a wall if someone hadn’t reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms.

      With a soft gasp Aspen looked up, about to thank whoever had saved her. But the words never came and her quick smile froze on her face as she found herself staring into the hard eyes of a man she had thought she would never see in the flesh again.

      The air between them split apart and reformed, vibrating with emotion, as Cruz Rodriguez stared down at her with such cold detachment she nearly shivered.

      Eight years dissolved into dust. Guilt, shame, and a host of other emotions all sparked for dominance inside her.

      ‘I …’ Aspen blinked, her mind scrambling for poise … words … something.

      ‘Hello, Aspen. Nice to see you again.’

      From as far back as she can remember MICHELLE CONDER dreamed of being a writer. She penned the first chapter of a romance novel just out of high school, but it took much study, many (varied) jobs, one ultra-understanding husband and three very patient children before she finally sat down to turn that dream into a reality.

      Michelle lives in Australia, and when she isn’t busy plotting loves to read, ride horses, travel and practise yoga.

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      DUTY AT WHAT COST?

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       Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      The Most Expensive Lie of All

      Michelle Conder

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      This book is dedicated to Amber and Corin for opening up the world of polo for me and doing it with such warmth and generosity. You guys are great.

      To a formidable squash champ, Juan Marcos, who promptly responded to my queries about his game.

      And also to my lifelong friend Pam Austin, who wrote down every memory she ever had of her visits to Mexico—which could have been a novel in itself.

      Thank you!

      Contents

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       EXCERPT

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘EIGHT-THREE. MY SERVE.’

      Cruz Rodriguez Sanchez, self-made billionaire and one of the most formidable sportsmen ever to grace the polo field, let his squash racquet drop to his side and stared at his opponent incredulously. ‘Rubbish! That was a let. And it’s eight-three my way.’

      ‘No way, compadre! That was my point.’

      Cruz eyeballed his brother as Ricardo prepared to serve. They might only be playing a friendly game of squash but ‘friendly’ was a relative term between competing brothers. ‘Cheats always get their just desserts, you know,’ Cruz drawled, moving to the opposite square.

      Ricardo grinned. ‘You can’t win every time, mi amigo.’

      Maybe not, Cruz thought, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost. Oh, yeah, actually he could—because his lawyer was in the process of righting that particular wrong while he blew off steam with his brother at their regular catch-up session.

      Feeling pumped, he correctly anticipated Ricardo’s attempted ‘kill shot’ and slashed back a return that his brother had no chance of reaching. Not that he didn’t try. His running shoes squeaked across the resin-coated floor as he lunged for the ball and missed.

      ‘Chingada madre!’

      ‘Now, now,’ Cruz mocked. ‘That would be nine-three. My serve.’

      ‘That’s just showing off,’ Ricardo grumbled, picking himself up and swiping at the sweat on his brow with his sweatband.

      Cruz shook his head. ‘You know what they say? If you can’t stand the heat...’

      ‘Too much talking, la figura.’

      ‘Good to see you know your place.’ He flashed his brother a lazy smile as he prepared to serve. ‘El pequeño.’

      Ricardo rolled his eyes, flipped him the bird and bunkered down, determination etched all over his face. But Cruz was in his zone, and when Ricardo flicked his wrist and sent the ball barrelling on a collision course with Cruz’s right cheekbone he adjusted his body with graceful agility and sent the ball ricocheting around the court.

      Not bothering to pick himself up off the floor this time, Ricardo lay there, mentally tracking the trajectory of the ball, and shook his head. ‘That’s just unfair. Squash isn’t even your game.’

      ‘True.’

      Polo had been his game. Years ago.

      Wiping sweat from his face, Cruz reached into his gym bag and tossed his brother a bottle of water. Ricardo sat on his haunches and guzzled it.

      ‘You know I let you win these little contests between us because you’re unbearable to be around when you lose,’ he advised.

      Cruz

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