‘Because I do own it,’ he said, suddenly impatient. ‘I’ve bought the company, Jess. I now own every one of the Lulu outlets, in cities and airports and on cruise ships all over the world.’

Shock rippled over her skin. Stay focused, she told herself. She kept her voice casual. ‘I didn’t realise—’

‘That I was rich enough?

‘Well, there’s that, of course.’ Her smile felt as if it was slicing her face in two. ‘Or that you had an interest in jewellery and watches.’

Loukas touched the tips of his fingers together and stared into eyes which were the exact colour of aquamarines. Jessica Cartwright. The one woman he’d never been able to forget. The woman who had unravelled him and then tied him up in knots. His pale and unexpected nemesis. He expelled a slow breath and let his gaze travel over her at a leisurely pace—because surely he had earned the right to study her as he would any other thing of beauty which he’d just purchased.

‘There’s plenty you don’t know about me.’ His mouth hardened and he felt the delicious rush of blood to his groin. And plenty she was about to find out.

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon®, featuring often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life …

This book acknowledges with grateful thanks the help and inspiration given to me by Piero Campomarte, patron of the Citera Hotel in Venice.

Thanks also to one of the Citera’s most famous and favoured guests—Dennis Riddiford.

CHAPTER ONE

SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT. Jessica felt it the moment she walked into the building. An unmistakable air of excitement and expectation. A rippling sense of change. She felt her throat constrict with something which felt like fear. Because people didn’t like change. Even though it was about the only thing in life you could guarantee, nobody really welcomed it—and she was right up there with all those change-haters, wasn’t she?

Outwardly the headquarters of the upmarket chain of jewellery stores was the same. Same plush sofas and scented candles and twinkling chandeliers. Same posters of glittering jewels spilled casually onto folds of dark velvet. There were glossy shots of women gazing dreamily at engagement rings, while their impossibly handsome fiancés looked on. There was even a poster of her, leaning reflectively against a sea wall and gazing into the distance, with a chunky platinum watch gleaming against her wrist. Briefly, Jessica’s gaze flicked over it. Anyone looking at that poster would think the woman in the crisp shirt and sleek ponytail inhabited a life which was all neat and sorted. She gave a wry smile. Whoever said the camera never lied had been very misguided.

Glancing down at her pale leather boots, which had somehow survived the journey from Cornwall without being splashed, she walked over to the desk where the receptionist was wearing a new blouse which displayed her ample cleavage. Jessica blinked. She was sure she could smell furniture polish mingling with the scent of gardenia from the flickering candles. Even the extra-large display of roses sitting on the fancy glass desk looked as if they’d been given a makeover.

‘Hi, Suzy,’ said Jessica, bending her head to sniff at one of the roses and finding it completely without fragrance. ‘I have a three o’clock appointment.’

Suzy glanced down at her computer screen and smiled. ‘So you do. Nice to see you, Jessica.’

‘Nice to be here,’ said Jessica, although that bit wasn’t quite true. Her life in the country had claimed her wholesale and she only came to London when she had to. And today it seemed she

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