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Interview With A Playboy. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.

Interview With A Playboy - Kathryn Ross


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       He wondered how it would feel to kiss her…

      As soon as the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. She was a journalist…a breed he despised! They were hard-bitten—uncaring—trouble-stirring…

      Isobel’s heart was pounding as if she had run a long-distance marathon. She felt shaky and hot inside. And the worst thing was the feeling of pleasure that had blazed inside her just from the lightest brush of his fingertips. It had never happened to her before with anyone. And the fact that it had happened so easily, and with such a casual touch, with Marco was horrifying.

      He was Marco Lombardi, one of the most notorious womanisers on the planet, and she couldn’t afford to forget that even for a minute.

      About the Author

      KATHRYN ROSS was born in Zambia, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist, but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories, and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later, DESIGNED WITH LOVE was accepted by Mills & Boon. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves travelling to exotic locations.

       Recent titles by the same author:

      THE MEDITERRANEAN’S WIFE BY CONTRACT ITALIAN MARRIAGE: IN NAME ONLY

      INTERVIEW

      WITH A PLAYBOY

      BY

      KATHRYN ROSS

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘WELL, look who has just walked into the reception area,’ Marco Lombardi murmured with a gleam of pleasure in his voice.

      They’d been in the middle of studying an intensely intricate set of financial records, but his accountant looked up from the sheets of paper and curiously followed his boss’s gaze towards the security monitors on the wall.

      ‘Isn’t that the reporter who has been hanging around the Sienna building for the last couple of days?’ he said with a frown.

      ‘Indeed it is.’ Marco smiled. ‘But don’t worry, John, she’s here by invitation.’

      ‘Invitation? You mean you are allowing her in to see you?’

      ‘You could say that,’ Marco replied, somewhat amused by the other man’s astonished tone.

      ‘But you hate the press—you never give interviews!’

      ‘Very true, but I’ve had a rethink.’

      John stared at him in disbelief. The Italian multi-millionaire had always fiercely guarded his privacy, and since his divorce two years ago his attitude towards the press had toughened even further.

      And yet here he was, inviting in the one journalist who in his opinion was trouble with a capital T. She always seemed to be nosing around at the moment; everywhere he went Ms Keyes was there, asking questions about their takeover of the Sienna confectionery company. A deal that was supposed to be secret and was in the last sensitive stages of negotiation. It was a perfectly legitimate deal, but the woman somehow made him feel they were doing something wrong.

      ‘So…why…?’ John asked finally, as his thoughts crystallised and he remembered that this was Marco Lombardi he was talking to—a man renowned for being astute.

      ‘There’s an old saying, John, about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. Let’s just say I’m putting it into practice.’

      John glanced back towards the monitor again. But he didn’t really understand. He noticed Isobel Keyes was glancing impatiently at her watch. ‘So what time is her appointment? Do you want me to take this paperwork away and work on it in the other office?’

      ‘No.’ Marco returned to the figures in front of him. ‘Ms Keyes can wait; she’s very lucky to have been invited here in the first place. So we will start as we mean to go on.’

      ‘Ah!’ Suddenly John understood. ‘You’re giving her the runaround until the deal is signed.’

      ‘Not exactly. Keeping her occupied might be the more correct terminology.’ Marco smiled. ‘Now, let’s concentrate on what’s important, shall we?’

      As John opened the top file he couldn’t help but feel a dart of sympathy for the young woman waiting outside in her prim business suit. Right now she was probably feeling pretty pleased with herself for gaining an interview with the elusive multi-millionaire. But she didn’t stand a chance in hell if she was thinking of pitting her wits against Marco Lombardi.

      Isobel was not in any way pleased about this situation. An hour ago she’d been on the verge of finding out exactly what was going on within the Sienna company. She’d been granted an interview with one of the Sienna shareholders, and then at the last minute the interview had been cancelled and out of the blue her editor had ordered her to drop the story.

      ‘I’ve got something better for you,’ Claudia had gushed with excitement. ‘I’ve just had a phone call from our editorial director. Can you believe it? Marco Lombardi has agreed to give the Daily Banner an exclusive interview!’

      Isobel had indeed been stunned. She’d tried to get an interview with Marco on a few occasions and had never got past his secretary. ‘Is he going to talk to me about his plans for taking over the Sienna confectionery company?’ she’d asked hopefully.

      ‘Isobel, forget about pursuing the business side of the story. What we want is a personal insight into Marco’s life, and the real facts behind his divorce. That’s the story readers really want, and it will be like gold dust for the paper.’

       The word smokescreen came to mind.

      Isobel clenched and unclenched her hands. She knew most journalists would have been ecstatic to get an interview with the handsome Italian. But she was a serious reporter, not a tattler of gossip. She didn’t want to do an in-depth interview about Marco’s love-life! She wanted to write a real story about people’s jobs being on the line.

      As far as she was concerned her paper had struck a deal with the devil—but, as usual, commercial considerations ruled the day, she reminded herself angrily.

      ‘You can go up now, Ms Keyes.’ The receptionist smiled over at her. ‘Mr Lombardi’s office is on the top floor.’

      Hallelujah, Isobel thought sardonically as she glanced at her watch. He’d only been keeping her waiting for over an hour. And of course he had done that on purpose too.

      As the lift swept her upwards, Isobel tried to compose herself. She had no choice now but to swallow her principles and give the paper the article they wanted, but it really did infuriate her. Because


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