The Man From her Wayward Past. Susan StephensЧитать онлайн книгу.

       ‘Lucia?’ Luke rapped sternly, staring down at her with knife-sharp eyes as she scrubbed the floor of the club. ‘Are you working here?’

      Of course she should have said, What’s it to you? But a row might draw attention, and she couldn’t afford to lose this job.

      ‘No, of course I’m not working here,’ she protested with a laugh, glancing around to make sure no one had heard Luke calling her by her real name. ‘I come here so often they let me hang my coat in the stockroom.’

      ‘Really?’ Luke drawled, with an even more contemptuous expression in his brooding amber gaze.

      ‘Okay, I work here from time to time,’ she admitted, brushing it off as she continued to stare at a face that was mesmerising in its harsh masculine beauty. If you wanted hard there was no better hard to be had than Luke Forster—as her yearning and thoroughly confused body could now attest.

      The crowd on the dance floor fell back at Luke’s advance like the Red Sea parting, and Luke paused at the entrance to the casino just long enough to shoot a stare at Lucia that assured her this wasn’t nearly over yet.

      About the Author

      SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

      Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

      Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net She loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

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       To find out more about the wild Acosta family visit: http://www.susanstephens.com/acostas/index.html

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      The Man

      From her Wayward Past

      Susan Stephens

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For the Angry Sparrow

      PROLOGUE

      THE SINGLE GIRL’S TO-DO LIST

      All roads lead to Rome and there is only one goal here.

      He sits proudly at number 10!

      1. Get a job

      2. Get a flat

      3. Get a wax

      4. Get a tan

      5. Get a hairdo

      6. Get a cool new wardrobe

      7. Get a gym membership

      8. Get a great dance teacher

      9. Get a gag for her polo-playing brothers

      10. Get a (non-polo-playing) man

      AS THE only girl in a family of four polo-playing brothers I’ve had enough—and I mean ENOUGH!—of whips, spurs and raging machismo morning, noon and night.

      CHAPTER ONE

       Get a job

       Not exactly the job I imagined, but I have my reasons. What are these reasons?

      Actually, I landed the dream job: management trainee in a top London hotel. It was the icing on the cake after achieving a good degree in Hotel Management back home in Argentina, where a career in hospitality seemed the obvious choice to me after years honing my craft on four demanding brothers. But I would rather eat my own feet than keep that dream job by sleeping with a slime-ball concierge who tried to blackmail me by threatening to reveal who ‘Anita Costa’ really was.

      People who knew me before this diary entry might ask, what has happened to wild child Lucia, the glamorous, glitzy, fun girl who was always the life and soul of the party, and who now seems to have sunk lower than a whore’s drawers? If you ‘re one of them you’d better read on.

      You will note that the one thing I have retained is my sense of humour. Just as well, as right now things couldn’t be much bleaker.

      NO ONE knew better than Lucia that a nightclub in daylight was a dismal, skanky place.

      She should do. These past few days it had felt as if she spent most of her life on her hands and knees, scrubbing the sticky floor beneath a stark long-life bulb. Glittering and glamorous at night beneath the coloured lights, the club, located on the wild and rugged splendour of Cornwall’s most popular coastline, was high on society’s hot list—thanks to the many opportunities to see and be seen both in the club and on the fabulous beach, where the many sporting activities drew the best pecs around. Lucia’s own dangerously charismatic polo-playing brothers had flaunted themselves in this same area when they were younger, with their hot friend Luke.

       Luke …

      Was this a good time to be thinking about more muscles and intelligence than was good for a man, captured in one devastatingly desirable package?

       A man who was out of Lucia’s reach?

      And who just happened to be a polo player. Which meant contravening number ten on her to-do list before she had ticked off numbers two to nine.

      ‘Don’t you have enough to do?’

      Lucia shot up as the club manager hove into view. Van Rickter had been a star on the club circuit in his youth, as he had been at pains to explain to Lucia when she had first begged him for a job—any job. Now he was a middle-aged charmer with a chip on his shoulder the size of a rock, who liked nothing better than to bully his staff. Lucia quickly returned to scrubbing as Grace, another of Van Rickter’s serfs, entered the club.

      ‘I hear there’s a big do on tonight,’ Grace announced, dropping her bag on a nearby table. ‘Wish I didn’t have these sniffles. A red nose and leaking eyes doesn’t do much for tips. I was hoping to meet someone fabulous tonight who would take me away from all this—’

      As Grace gestured around Lucia reflected that not so long ago just the mention of a ‘big do’ would have been a call to arms. She had loved nothing better than to tease and flirt and dance. With four brothers ready to flatten any man who so much as looked at her the wrong way, she had grown up with no concept of danger when she turned it on, and had felt free to be as flirtatious as she liked. Her instant reaction to the merest suggestion of a party would have been on with the five-inch heels, the dress at least a size too small, followed swiftly by slap, glitter,