A Woman To Remember. Miranda LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry. I’m a good guy. And I can see you’re a good girl...” Letter to Reader Title Page PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN Teaser chapter Copyright
“Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry. I’m a good guy. And I can see you’re a good girl...”
They both went to sleep...eventually... though Luke took quite a while to come to terms with what had just happened. He hoped he was right. Hoped she was a good girl. If not, he’d just done the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his whole life. Slept with a perfect stranger. Then, to top it all off, he’d fallen in love with her....
Dear Reader,
Love can be full of surprises!
We know you’ll enjoy the last book in Miranda Lee’s bewitching trilogy, AFFAIRS TO REMEMBER. All three stories are about love affairs with a difference, and they are brought especially to you by this popular Australian author—all the tales have twists that you won’t forget!
Sincerely,
The Editor
A Woman to Remember
Miranda Lee
PROLOGUE
SHE took the clothes from the case and laid them out on the hotel bed: a leopardskin-print halter-necked mini-dress, sexy gold sandals with outrageously high heels plus the obligatory ankle strap, and a cream stretch satin G-string which would give the illusion of nakedness underneath the oh, so tight dress.
Not another thing. No bra. No stockings. No petticoat.
A shudder rippled through her at the thought of what she would look like dressed in that garb, with her long tawny blonde hair wildly fluffed out around her face and shoulders, her full mouth made to look even fuller with carefully applied lip-liner and filled in with the sort of lipstick it would take paint-stripper to remove.
Hardly subtle.
Still, that was what she wanted to look like. There was no time for her usual ladylike image. No time for demure or coy. She had only this one night. A few bare hours.
Dismay swept in at the thought of what she was going to do, of how she would have to act to get what she wanted so quickly and so thoroughly. Dear God, what had happened to her this past year? What had she become?
For a split-second she almost backed away from the idea, but desperation and a fierce frustration brought renewed resolve. She had to go home in the morning—home to her dying husband, home to nothing but more weeks of disappointment and despair and loneliness such as she’d never known before.
She could not let this chance go by. She had to grab it. She simply had to!
Snatching up the folded newspaper lying on the pillow, she rechecked the address of the photographic exhibition—the only opening she could find on that particular Wednesday night. It was not a street or a gallery she recognised, but there again it had been some years since she’d lived and worked in Sydney.
She jotted down the address, hoping against hope that this type of function would be the same as they’d always been—full of highly sociable swinging singles. Admittedly, a percentage of the seemingly available men—and often the best-looking—would be gay, but there would always be a sprinkling of straight males with more machismo than morals.
And where are your morals, Rachel? came the taunting inner question.
‘I left them at home,’ she snapped aloud as she threw the newspaper into the wastepaper basket. ‘Along with everything else I once held dear. Life is a different ball-game these days. A different ball-game,’ she bit out, her heart hardening as she strode quickly into the bathroom, dragging off her wedding ring as she went.
There was no time for guilt tonight. Or conscience. Or, God forbid, shame. Shame was for normal wives in normal situations. It had no place in her life at that moment. No place at all!
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU’LL have to go to the dentist.’
Luke popped the two painkillers into his mouth and swigged them back with a large glass of water.
‘I’ll go when I get back to Los Angeles,’ he said, turning from the kitchen sink to smile at his still frowning mother. ‘It’s not that bad.’
Grace wasn’t about to be distracted from her maternal mission, although she recognised that her son’s smile would have distracted most of the female gender. Distract, disarm and downright disorientate.
At thirty-two, Luke had become a lethal weapon where his looks were concerned. Age and life had finally put some interesting lines on his once too smoothly handsome face, especially around his eyes and mouth, giving him more sex appeal than ever.
His two elder brothers were good-looking men, but Luke was matinee idol material, having inherited the best of his parents’ genes—his father’s tall, well-proportioned body, clear olive skin and flashing dark eyes, and his mother’s symmetrical features, high cheekbones and sensually carved mouth. All in all, a potent mix.
As a teenage boy Grace’s youngest son had been a big hit with girls. No doubt nowadays he was an equally big hit with women. Pity he couldn’t find one to settle down with, Grace thought wryly.
Not that he mixed with the type of woman she would have chosen as a daughter-in-law. Luke’s life as private and personal photographer to the stars in Hollywood meant that his immediate circle of acquaintance was the entertainment and movie-world crowd. Hardly the sort of people renowned for long-term commitment and traditional values.
Motherly concern had Grace wishing that one of these days Luke would come home to Australia to live permanently, not just pop home to Sydney for the odd week every year or so. He was an Aussie at heart, and she felt sure he’d be happier at home.
He never looked very happy these days. There were always dark smudges under his eyes, and his mouth had taken on a cynical twist which made her feel quite sad. The young man who’d flown off to see the world and make his fortune ten years ago had not been a cynic.