Michelle Douglas - The Aristocrat and the Single Mum

His eyes speared to hers as he straightened too, rocked back on his heels. ‘You thought I knew about Jesse?’

‘Yes, I did.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you suggesting that I am ashamed of my son?’

‘I wouldn’t dream of making such an accusation,’ he snapped.

‘Then what’s the big deal, Simon?’

But she knew what the big deal was. She and this man had forged a connection from the moment they’d swapped day-from-hell stories. The thought of her with another man infuriated him. Just like the thought of him with another woman curved her fingers into claws.

It made no sense. It couldn’t go anywhere, but it existed.

He seized her wrist, brought his face close to hers and slugged her with a super-duper dose of his scent. She wanted to swoon.

‘If I’d known you were a mother I would never—’

He broke off, released her wrist.

‘What?’ she challenged, glancing around to make sure their exchange hadn’t given rise to any curious glances. She rubbed at her wrist, wanting to rid it of the betraying jump of desire. ‘You wouldn’t have kissed me?’

‘No. I wouldn’t have.’

Praise for Michelle Douglas

‘Michelle Douglas makes an outstanding debut

with HIS CHRISTMAS ANGEL, a complex, richly

emotional story. The characters are handled especially

well, as are the many conflicts and relationships.

This one’s a keeper.’

— Romantic Times BOOKreviews

‘Packed with a smouldering tension and underlying

passion, THE LONER’S GUARDED HEART by

Michelle Douglas will leave readers wanting more…

Ms Douglas has written a story with characters that

you would swear you’ve known for years and of

a romance that brings together two souls who are

seeking the person that can make them whole…

If you are a reader who loves tender, heartfelt stories

then this book is a must-buy, because it has all these

elements and so much more.’

— Cataromance.com

Look out for more fantastic stories from Michelle coming soon in Mills & Boon ® Romance!

At the age of eight Michelle Douglaswas asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, ‘A writer.’ Years later she read an article about romance-writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Masters programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings. Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelledouglas.com

Recent titles by this author:

HIS CHRISTMAS ANGEL

THE LONER’S GUARDED HEART

BY

MICHELLE DOUGLAS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Bryony Green and Sally Williamson.

your editorial input made all the difference. Thank you.

CHAPTER ONE

KATE reached the last item in the file, closed her eyes, closed the file and counted to ten. Then she opened her eyes, opened the file and started again. The bell above the door jangled, telling her someone had entered the office, but she didn’t move from her crouch in front of the filing cabinet. In fact, it was hard to move at all with all the boxes piled around her.

‘Hello?’

At any other time a voice like that would’ve had her swinging around in curiosity…and anticipation. The voice was deep and masculine, with an intriguing British burr. A lot of tourists with a lot of different accents passed through this part of the world and Kate loved accents. She’d once meant to travel to some of those faraway places and immerse herself in different cultures, different languages. But that was before she’d fallen pregnant with Jesse. This particular accent, though, was her all-time favourite and could turn her insides to mush in the space of a heartbeat.

‘I won’t be a moment,’ she called.

Half hidden by the desk, her customer probably couldn’t see her. And although she usually made it a point to deal with prospective customers first, she took a deep breath and carefully examined the file again, lifting out and checking each document before moving to the next one.

Darn it. It wasn’t there. Where had she put it? The accountant had wanted it last week. She’d promised to get it to him today. She slapped the side of the filing cabinet as if it were its fault. She glanced around at all the boxes and groaned.

‘Is something wrong?’

She couldn’t resist that accent any longer. ‘I’m sorry.’ She turned. ‘I…’

She blinked. Air squeezed out of her lungs. Oh, dear Lord, who cared about finding receipts for boat repairs when a man like this stood in her office?

She tried to catch her breath, but it flitted in and out of her lungs with more speed than grace, evading her every attempt to harness it. She thought she ought to stand, but the longer she stared at him the more the world tilted to one side and, as she had no desire to fall flat on her face at his feet, she decided she’d better stay right where she was. Very carefully, she lowered her knees to the ground so she knelt rather than crouched. More stability—that was what she needed. And breakfast. She absolutely, positively shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. Low blood sugar and all that.

She tried to hold back a sigh, but her mystery man had such a beautiful face to go with the beautiful British accent—not to mention a superb body—and it had been a long time since she’d beheld such a perfect example of masculine beauty that she had no hope of containing it. It came out on one long low breath. His too-short hair, as far as she could tell, was his single flaw. But it gleamed rich and dark in the half-light of her office and she could imagine its crispness against her palms with more clarity than sense.

She shook herself. ‘Hello.’ Her voice came out normal. She had no idea how. She even managed a smile.

‘Hello,’ he said again in that to-die-for accent, but he said it slowly, as if making a discovery. Then he smiled. Firm, sensual lips. Cheek creases.

The world abruptly stopped tilting and something slammed into her stomach with the impact of a missile. It felt wrong and right—both at the same time. It didn’t make sense.

The man’s eyes widened, his lips pursed for a brief moment, and she wondered if he’d felt the impact too.

Another sigh welled up inside her. And yearning. She expelled the sigh on one hard breath, but could do nothing with the yearning. She forced herself to her feet. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

She glanced at the clock on the wall behind him—eleven a.m. The day was yet young. She had plenty of time to find receipts for boat repairs and visit her accountant. She had all the time in the world.

‘Is everything all right?’