In Her Rival's Arms. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
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This was too important to risk playing games with. Honesty couldn’t hurt, surely?
Disarming … charming this man, even … might get him on side. Her side.
“The historical protection order,’ she said. ‘I’ve been expecting someone to come and want to see the house.”
“Ah …”
He was holding her gaze, and for a heartbeat Zanna had the impression he was about to tell her something of great significance. But then his gaze shifted and she could sense him changing his mind.
He nodded, as though confirming his decision. “Yes,” he said, slowly. ‘I would like to see the house.’
Should she show him? How dangerous would it be to be alone with this man? But what if he did hold the key to saving this place? How good would it be to have its safety assured by the time Maggie got home? She owed her beloved aunt so much, and a protection order would be a gift beyond price.
For both of them.
Zanna took a deep, steadying breath. And then she mirrored his nod. ‘I’ll have to lock up,’ she told him. Moving to collect the key from behind the counter took her even closer to him, and she felt that odd curl of sensation deep within again. Stronger this time. That heady mix of desire laced with … danger.
She was playing with fire.
But, oh … the heat was delicious.
In Her Rival’s Arms
Alison Roberts
ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, and has written over sixty Mills & Boon® Medical Romance™ novels.
As a qualified paramedic she has personal experience of the drama and emotion to be found in the world of medical professionals, and loves to weave stories with this rich background—especially when they can have a happy ending.
When Alison is not writing you’ll find her indulging her passion for dancing or spending time with her friends (including Molly the dog) and her daughter Becky, who has grown up to become a brilliant artist. She also loves to travel, hates housework, and considers it a triumph when the flowers outnumber the weeds in her garden.
For the Maytoners, with love, in recognition of the magic you have all brought into my life. xxx
Contents
NO WAY WAS he a genuine customer.
Suzanna Zelensky had no need to call on any intuitive powers she might have inherited from her bloodline. Even the dark silhouette of this stranger, caused by the slant of late afternoon sunshine through the window behind him as he stepped further into her domain, radiated a palpable scepticism. He wanted nothing to do with anything this business represented. The impression wasn’t all that uncommon in the gypsy shop Spellbound and it was almost always emanated by males, but they were invariably dragged in a by a female partner.
This man was alone and yet he moved with a determination that suggested he had a good reason for entering her world. Alarm bells rang with enough force to make the back of Zanna’s neck prickle. Who was he and what did he want?
She had seen him well before he’d had the chance to see her. Had caught a clear glimpse of his face in that heartbeat of time from when he’d come through the door until he’d stepped forward into that shaft of light. Strong features with a shadowing to his jaw that accentuated uncompromising lines. A harsh but compelling face. This man wouldn’t just stand out from a crowd. He would render those around him virtually invisible. He was different. Beautiful...
Having other customers to attend to was fortunate. Zanna had time to think. A chance to consider the implications of this unusual visit and an opportunity to gather her emotional resources. She turned back to the teenage girls.
‘You’ll need a burner to use the essential oils as aromatherapy. We have a good range over here.’ The heavy silver bangles Zanna was wearing gave the movement of her arm a distinctive, musical accompaniment.
She could feel him looking at her now. A predatory kind of appraisal that should have raised any hackles she possessed but instead, disturbingly, she could feel a very different kind of response. Her skin prickled as though every cell was being stirred. Coming alive.
‘How do they work?’ One of the girls was reaching for a burner.
‘A small candle goes in the base.’ Zanna risked a quick glance behind her, maybe because she had sensed she was no longer under scrutiny. Sure enough, the man was moving, staring at the objects on display. For a moment, Zanna stared blankly at the object in front of her. What had she been talking about?
‘You put water in the bowl above it,’ she managed, ‘and sprinkle a few drops of your chosen oil on the water. As it heats, the scent is carried in the vapour.’