The Incorrigible Playboy. Emma DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.

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       Dear Reader

      I want to dedicate this book to Marilyn Callaghan, who was my personal assistant, dear friend and travelling companion for eighteen marvellous years. She was involved in the writing of over sixty Emma Darcy books, not only as my muse but also as the person I trusted to keep me on track to deliver the best I could do. It was our friendship that made my writing continue to be a joy in my life.

      Last year when she became very ill, and I was too worried about her to be creative, she still kept pushing me to write—coming up with ideas, wanting to be involved with another story. To please her, and to try and distract us both from what was happening in the real world, I started this book. All too soon she was hospitalised, and I sat by her bed reading to her the first few chapters as I finished them. It made her happy to feel she was still part of a world we could make together. I’d just started Chapter Four when she died, leaving me too bereft to go on with it for months afterwards.

      But I had to finish it. For Marilyn. The last story that she shared with me. I hope I’ve got it right for her. I hope you enjoy it. She would want you to.

      Love always

       Emma Darcy

      CHAPTER ONE

      THIRTY.

      The big three zero.

      If ever there was a birthday to inspire the determination to make a change in her life, this was it.

      Elizabeth Flippence assessed her reflection in the mirror with a mixture of hope and anxiety. She’d had her long brown hair cut to just below her ears and layered so that it fluffed out around her face in wild waves with bangs across her forehead. It was a much more modern look and softer, more feminine, but she wasn’t sure she should have let the hairdresser talk her into the vibrant auburn colour.

      It was certainly striking. Which was probably what she needed for Michael Finn to really notice her today—notice her as a woman instead of taking her for granted as his superefficient personal assistant. She desperately wanted their relationship to shift from its consistently platonic level. Two years was long enough to pine for a man who seemed fixated on not mixing business with pleasure.

      Which was ridiculous. They were so well suited to each other. Surely Michael knew that in his heart. It couldn’t be more obvious. Her frustration over this stand-off situation had been simmering for months, and Elizabeth had decided that today was the day she was going to try smashing down his guard. This makeover should at least capture his attention.

      And the hairdresser was right about the auburn tones making her dark brown eyes look brighter. The new hairstyle also seemed to put her rather long nose in better proportion with the rest of her face. It highlighted her slanted cheekbones in a strangely exotic way and even her slightly wide full-lipped mouth looked more right somehow.

      Anyway, it was done now and she fiercely hoped it would promote the desired result. When Michael commented on her changed appearance, she would tell him it was her birthday present to herself and maybe … please, please, please … he would suggest celebrating the occasion by taking her out to lunch, or better still, dinner.

      She didn’t want to be his Girl Friday anymore. She wanted to be his every day and every night girl. If that didn’t start happening … Elizabeth took a long deep breath as she faced the unavoidable truth. Thirty really was the deadline for a woman to give serious consideration to finding a life partner if she wanted to have a family of her own. Michael Finn was her choice but if he didn’t respond to her differently today, she’d probably be wasting her time to hope for any change from him in the near future. Which meant she would have to move on, try to meet someone else.

      She quickly banished the downer thought. It was imperative to be positive today. Smile and the whole world smiled back at you, she told herself. It was one of Lucy’s principles and it certainly worked for her sister, who invariably carved a blithe path through life, using her smile to get her out of trouble. A lot was forgiven with Lucy’s smile.

      Elizabeth practised her own as she left the bathroom. She was just slipping her mobile phone into her handbag, ready to leave for work when it played her signature call tune. Quickly flipping it open she lifted it to her ear, anticipating the caller would be Lucy, who had spent the weekend with friends at Port Douglas. Her sister’s voice instantly bubbled forth.

      ‘Hi, Ellie! Happy birthday! I hope you’re wearing the clothes I bought for you.’

      ‘Thanks, Lucy, and yes, I am.’

      ‘Good! Every woman should look bold and beautiful on their thirtieth birthday.’

      Elizabeth laughed. The beautiful butterfly blouse, basically in glorious shades of blue and green but with the wings outlined in brown and enclosing a vivid pattern in red and sea-green and yellow