Kate Walker - Hers For A Night

Cover Page

Excerpt “It’s only for one night. The next day we say our goodbyes and leave.” “Together,” Lucas put in. “Of course together! We’ll travel home and that will be that. It’s just twenty-four hours. Midnight to midnight, then we’ll go our separate ways. We need never see each other again.” Lucas looked thoughtful. “There’s just one thing that puzzles me. I don’t understand why, when you’ve gone to all this trouble arranging a date and telling your parents, you’re still so insistent on keeping things strictly business. Why not make it for real? Then we could have some fun.” “Fun?” Georgia spluttered indignantly. “And I suppose by fun you mean—” “I mean this,” Lucas drawled softly and, leaning forward, he kissed her right on the mouth.

About the Author KATE WALKER was born in Nottinghamshire, England, but as she grew up in Yorkshire she has always felt that her roots were there. She met her husband at university and she originally worked as a children’s librarian, but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their three cats and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theater and, of course, reading.

Dedication Look out next month for The Groom’s Revenge by Kate Walker, #2035.

Title Page Hers For A Night Kate Walker www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

“Together,” Lucas put in.

“Of course together! We’ll travel home and that will be that. It’s just twenty-four hours. Midnight to midnight, then we’ll go our separate ways. We need never see each other again.”

Lucas looked thoughtful.

“There’s just one thing that puzzles me. I don’t understand why, when you’ve gone to all this trouble arranging a date and telling your parents, you’re still so insistent on keeping things strictly business. Why not make it for real? Then we could have some fun.”

“Fun?” Georgia spluttered indignantly. “And I suppose by fun you mean—”

“I mean this,” Lucas drawled softly and, leaning forward, he kissed her right on the mouth.

KATE WALKER was born in Nottinghamshire, England, but as she grew up in Yorkshire she has always felt that her roots were there. She met her husband at university and she originally worked as a children’s librarian, but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their three cats and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theater and, of course, reading.

Look out next month for The Groom’s Revenge by Kate Walker, #2035.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

‘AND now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the high spot of the evening—the moment I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for!’

The woman standing on the stage at the far end of the large, luxurious dining room banged her gavel on the table in front of her in order to gain attention, even though it was obvious that she had no need to do so. Every head in the crowd before her was already turned in her direction, the buzz of conversation fading to a silence that was somehow electric with a new and expectant excitement.

‘Here we go,’ Georgia muttered to herself, sitting upright in her chair and running a hand over her sleek copper-coloured hair before adjusting the short skirt of her mint-green silk suit, infected by the tension as much as everyone else.

This was what she had come here for. This was the reason—the only reason—she had paid the exorbitant ticket price and endured an indifferent meal, a less than enjoyable cabaret.

‘Lot twenty-five in our charity auction. A very special offer indeed for the connoisseur. A must for any lady with discerning taste and a bank balance to match! I’m sure that more than one of you would be willing to spend any amount to purchase the services—’ the elegant brunette rolled her eyes dramatically ‘—of this particularman for a day. Ladies and gentlemen, our star attraction—Mr Lucas Mallory!’

Star attraction indeed, Georgia thought to herself, and from the look of him this man knew it only too well.

Others before him had ambled down the catwalk in the centre of the room with an embarrassed, almost shamefaced air, as if they couldn’t quite believe their own behaviour in appearing in a ‘slave auction’ like this. Some had attempted a more confident swagger, but had only succeeded in looking cocksure and rather silly, and others had been so painfully ill at ease that Georgia had winced inwardly in empathic embarrassment.

In contrast to such displays, Lucas Mallory strolled out into the glare of the spotlight with the easy, unruffled confidence of a man born to public favour and acclaim.

Everything about him, his firmly upright carriage, the assured lift of his chin, the measured, hunting-cat grace with which he moved, declared that he was sure of his welcome. Without a word having to be spoken he made it plain that he had never doubted for a moment what his reception would be like.

And he was right, of course. The ripple of applause that greeted his appearance swelled in volume as he strolled down the catwalk, growing to a thunderous roar when he came to a halt at the end. From his higher position, he surveyed the crowded room with leisurely nonchalance, a faint smile curving the corners of his beautifully shaped mouth and one dark eyebrow lifting in teasing challenge.

‘Oh, very cool!’ Georgia commented under her breath, her tone a blend of admiration and cynicism.

She was well aware of the fact that ‘Cool’ was reported to be Lucas Mallory’s middle name. Nothing, it was said, but nothing fazed him in any way at all. Even the appalling crash that had almost claimed his life hadn’t stirred a single shining hair on that handsome head.

‘I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you anything about Lucas Mallory.’ On the stage, the auctioneer was warming to her theme. ‘But for those of you who have been asleep for the past ten years or have just flown in from some far distant planet, let me say that the man before you was a World Champion racing driver. He won that accolade three times in succession, and might possibly have achieved a fourth win if it hadn’t been for a run of bad luck that ended in his unexpectedly early retirement.’

Mr Cool hadn’t liked that reference to his last, disastrous year in Grand Prix racing, Georgia reflected, seeing the tiny frown that creased the space between the straight, black brows. Clearly he would much rather have retired with yet another golden prize under his belt instead of being forced out of the competition by a string of problems and near disasters that made it seem as if his legendary luck had finally deserted him.

‘But since then he has not been content to rest on his laurels. Instead, he has turned his attention to business, making a second fortune restoring and selling classic cars. So you can see that the woman who makes the winning bid tonight will be a lucky lady indeed. In fact, I can only bemoan the fact that I am not allowed to take part in this particular auction!’

The look the elegant brunette turned on Lucas Mallory could only be described as idolatrous, and Georgia felt a twist of deep cynicism as she saw the man at the end of the catwalk respond with a smile of megawatt brilliance that was clearly designed to have her, and every other woman in the room, melting into a warm pool at his feet.

That smile would get him anything, or anyone, as poor Kelly knew to her cost. For a couple of seconds the memory of her friend’s distress blurred Georgia’s hazel eyes and she had to shake her head firmly, sending her smooth mane of coppery coloured hair flying round her fine-boned face as she tried to drive the image from her mind.

She needed to concentrate on the plan that had brought her here tonight. Any thought of the callous way this man had behaved towards Kelly would only distract her from her purpose.

‘But I’m sure you’re anxious to get this part of the auction under way, so would anyone like to start the bidding?’

There was no shortage of volunteers, enthusiastic hands shooting up all around the room, but Georgia kept her own carefully manicured fingers firmly in her lap.

Steady, she warned herself, you don’t want to look too eager.

That was not the impression she wanted to give at all. And besides, she could afford to wait, to let others increase the price until some of them were forced to drop out.

Lucas Mallory, too, seemed quite content to wait. He looked perfectly at ease even in the glare of the spotlight, hands pushed deep into the pockets of the perfectly tailored black trousers he wore with an equally elegant dinner jacket and immaculate white shirt.

But of course the spotlight was his natural habitat. He had hardly been out of it at any point during the past ten years. If the tabloid press hadn’t been reporting his explosive success on the race track, then it had been the equally dramatic nature of his private life that had grabbed their interest.

The latter seemed to consist of a series of high-profile romances alternating with even more public break-upsif ‘romances’ was the right word. Certainly his associations could never be described as relationships, none of them seeming to last long enough to do more than register on the public awareness before they were unceremoniously discarded and Lucas Mallory moved on to pastures new.

‘Mallory’s Moppets, we’re known as.’ Kelly’s voice, shaking with bitterness, sounded inside her head. ‘Or the Pit Stop Popsies. At least, the ones who get as far as a date are called that! There’s another, even less flattering term that’s used for the others—the ones like me. I barely had a chance to warm his sheets before he pushed me out the door. The proverbial one-night stand, that’s me!’

‘But why did you let it happen?’ Georgia hadn’t been able to hide her concern. ‘Don’t you have any more respect for yourself than that? Why didn’t you just say no?’

‘Say no!’ her friend had echoed, rolling her eyes dramatically to emphasise just what she thought of that suggestion. ‘Georgie, no one says no to Lucas Mallory, at least, no woman with red blood in her veins! He is gorgeous, the sexiest thing on two legs ever to walk this earth.’

And, in spite of feeling decidedly prejudiced against the man on the stage, Georgia had to admit that even ‘gorgeous’ was rather too restrained a term to describe someone like him. It implied the sort of conventional, almost pretty-boy looks that turned actors into movie stars. Lucas Mallory had features that were too strong, a bone-structure that was too harsh for such a glamorous appeal.

But when those strong-boned looks were teamed with hair that gleamed like polished jet and eyes that seemed, from this distance at least, to be almost equally dark, the impact this man had was like a blow to the soul. With square, powerful shoulders and a tall, leanly muscular frame that carried not even an ounce more in weight than when he had earned his living as a trained sportsman, then ‘devastating’ was probably far nearer the mark.