Chantelle Shaw - His Secretary Mistress

What have we got for you in Harlequin Presents books this month? Some of the most gorgeous men you’re ever likely to meet!

With His Royal Love-Child, Lucy Monroe brings you another installment in her gripping and emotional trilogy, ROYAL BRIDES; Prince Marcello Scorsolini has a problem—his mistress is pregnant! Meanwhile, in Jane Porter’s sultry, sexy new story, The Sheikh’s Disobedient Bride, Tally is being held captive in Sheikh Tair’s harem…because he intends to tame her! If it’s a Mediterranean tycoon that you’re hoping for, Jacqueline Baird has just the guy for you in The Italian’s Blackmailed Mistress: Max Quintano, ruthless in his pursuit of Sophie, whom he’s determined to bed using every means at his disposal! In Sara Craven’s Wife Against Her Will, Darcy Langton is stunned when she finds herself engaged to businessman Joel Castille—traded as part of a business merger! The glamour continues with For Revenge…Or Pleasure?—the latest title in our popular miniseries FOR LOVE OR MONEY, written by Trish Morey, truly is romance on the red carpet! If it’s a classic read you’re after, try His Secretary Mistress by Chantelle Shaw. She pens her first sensual and heartwarming story for the Presents line with a tall, dark and handsome British hero, whose feisty yet vulnerable secretary tries to keep a secret about her private life that he won’t appreciate.

Check out www.eHarlequin.com for a list of recent Presents books! Enjoy!

She’s his in the bedroom, but he can’t buy her love…

Showered with diamonds, draped in exquisite lingerie, whisked around the world in the lap of luxury…

The ultimate fantasy becomes a reality.

Live the dream with more MISTRESS TO A MILLIONAIRE titles by your favorite authors.

Available only in Harlequin Presents ®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast, five minutes from the sea, and does much of her thinking about the characters in her books while walking on the beach. An avid reader from an early age, school friends used to hide their books when she visited, but Chantelle would retreat into her own world, and she still writes “stories” in her head all the time. Chantelle has been blissfully married to her own tall, dark and very patient hero for over twenty years and has six children. She began to read Mills & Boon as a teenager and throughout the years of being a stay-at-home mom to her brood, she found romantic fiction helped her to stay sane! Her aim is to write books that provide an element of escapism, fun and, of course, romance for the countless women who juggle work and a homelife and who need their precious moments of “me” time. She enjoys reading and writing about strong willed, feisty women and even stronger-willed sexy heroes. Chantelle is at her happiest when writing. She is particularly inspired while cooking dinner, which unfortunately results in a lot of culinary disasters! She also loves gardening, taking her very badly behaved terrier for walks and eating chocolate (followed by more walking—at least the dog is slim!).

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

‘THE traffic ahead appears to be gridlocked, Mr Morrell. Do you want me to try and turn off?’

‘No, I’ll walk from here. See if you can pull over, Barton.’ Alex Morrell snapped his briefcase shut and punched the number of his office into his mobile phone. ‘Margaret, I’m caught in traffic. Can you check that the Danson notes are complete? I’ll need them for court tomorrow. Ask the temp to type up anything that’s outstanding.’

There was a brief silence before his personal assistant Margaret Rivers murmured, ‘She’s not actually here yet, but as soon as she arrives…’

‘It’s ten past nine,’ Alex snapped irritably, and then caught sight of the teeming London traffic and sighed. Maybe his new temporary assistant had a legitimate excuse, but it was not a promising start.

‘Looks as though it might rain,’ the chauffeur, Barton, noted with a glance at the heavy October sky. But Alex was impatient. He hated inactivity, and the risk of getting caught in a shower was better than sitting in the car.

He had only been walking for a few minutes when the first spots of rain turned into a deluge and he was forced to dive into the doorway of a coffee shop, colliding with a young woman who had obviously had the same idea.

‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’ She skidded to a halt in front of him and he flung out an arm to prevent her from falling. Hairpins scattered in all directions and her once neat chignon gave up and unravelled in a stream of amber silk around her face. ‘If only I’d obeyed Ten Tips on How to Survive Your First Day before I set out this morning,’ she said miserably, waving a bedraggled magazine under his nose. ‘Tip four is to remember an umbrella.’

‘What’s tip one?’ he enquired, unable to tear his gaze from her face, and enormous grey eyes blinked at him solemnly, dragging him under so that he felt, quite literally, as if he was drowning.

‘Ensure that you arrive in plenty of time—and I’m horribly late. Do you know, the 8.05 was cancelled for no reason? Well, no reason that I could see,’ she added, and Alex felt his lips twitch.

She was beautiful—exquisitely so, he acknowledged, taken aback by his reaction to her. He had met many beautiful women in his life—indeed, he was a connoisseur of tall, lissom blondes—but there was something about this woman, the curve of her cheekbones and her full, soft mouth, that sent a jolt of unwarranted desire through his body. She was slender, and so petite that the top of her head was on a level with his chest. She looked vulnerable, but in his experience women were far tougher than they looked, and it was likely that the delicate woman staring up at him was no different.

‘I’m sure your boss will understand that you have no power over London Transport,’ he murmured soothingly, but she shook her head again, so that her hair flashed like a bright halo round her face.

‘I wouldn’t bank on it. He has high expectations of his staff, and lateness is his pet hate—or so I’ve heard.’

‘Do you mean you haven’t met him?’ For a brief moment Alex considered the likelihood of coincidence and then dismissed it. His personal assistant had been responsible for selecting a temporary secretary from the agency, and Margaret had described the chosen candidate as eminently sensible.

The woman standing close to him was heartstoppingly lovely, but he doubted she had been employed for her reliability; this little one could only be described as ditzy. As if to labour the point she suddenly seemed to realise that she was standing in the arms of a complete stranger, and in her efforts to escape her hair tangled round his coat button so that she was trapped.

‘Wait a minute.’ He stilled her wriggling and was in the process of unwinding her hair when they were joined in the doorway by a crowd of people trying to escape the hailstones that were now pelting down.

The woman was squashed up close against him and he was struck by the paleness of her skin, which was almost translucent, and her velvet-grey eyes fringed by gold-tipped lashes. There was something innately sensual about the fact that she wore no make-up apart from a hint of pale pink gloss that emphasised the fullness of her lips. Her hair smelled of lemons and rain, an earthy combination, and he fought a sudden urge to wind his fingers into the silky strands.

Could the morning get any worse? Jenna wondered. As if the public transport system hadn’t been bad enough, she now faced arriving at the office on her first day looking like a drowned rat.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she mumbled, as the throng of people squeezed further back into the doorway, pushing her further into the stranger’s arms. He towered over her, and she craned her neck to look at his face, instantly hit by a wave of attraction that sent shock waves through her body. He was gorgeous, with black hair cropped close to his head, a lean, angular face, and a wide mouth that promised heaven. His eyes were dark, almost navy in colour beneath heavy black brows, and as she stared at him he smiled, and her heart flipped in her chest.

‘No problem,’ he assured her, his voice rich and dark. ‘It’s obviously a popular doorway.’

‘I must go,’ Jenna muttered distractedly, dragging her gaze from him to the storm outside. Hailstones were still thundering down, and she quailed at the thought of braving them, but at this rate she would be sacked from her new job before she had even arrived.

‘You can’t possibly go out in that,’ the man said equably, but she sensed the resolution beneath his tone and had the feeling that he would drag her physically back under the shelter should she attempt to leave.

It was all right for him, she thought, irritated by the way he continued to hold her arm, as if she was a small child in need of restraint. He didn’t look like a man whose life depended on him arriving at work on time. With his exceptional height and stunning looks he had the appearance of someone who had stepped from the pages of a society magazine, but there was something about him, an air of quiet authority, that made a mockery of that idea. He must be a businessman of some sort, she surmised, and a successful one at that, for even her untutored eye could recognise the quality and superb cut of his overcoat. He was urbane, sophisticated, and from the gentle amusement in his eyes she realised that he was well aware of his affect on her.

Skin prickling with embarrassment, she dragged her eyes from his face, and as she stared down at the floor she spied the ladder in her tights.

‘Someone up there really doesn’t like me,’ she wailed despairingly, and his gaze dropped to her legs. ‘Tip five is to always carry a spare pair of tights.’ She was babbling like an idiot, she realised, transfixed by the way his mouth had curved into a wide smile. She was having the morning from hell—and falling into the arms of the sexiest man she had ever met was not helping!

His eyes travelled the length of her legs, skimmed her hips and settled on her breasts, and as she felt them swell and tighten she was grateful for the protection of her jacket.

‘So tell me, why have you accepted a job when you don’t like the sound of the boss, and haven’t even met him?’ he asked curiously.

‘Money,’ Jenna informed him bluntly, ‘lots of it. I’d work for the devil if he paid the salary I’ve been offered.’

Was that a look of disdain that crossed his face? If he knew the size of her mortgage he might be more understanding, she thought grimly. She doubted he had ever had to juggle his finances to such an extreme that it was a choice between paying the bills and eating. He was rich and pampered, she decided. His clothes, his general air, exuded extreme wealth, and standing beside him in her cheap suit she felt shabby and unsophisticated. With an impatient wriggle she shrugged out of his hold and peered past the crowd to see the rain still lashing the pavement.

‘I can’t stay here all day,’ she announced firmly. ‘Do you know if there are any shops nearby? I need to buy another pair of tights.’