Nancy Holland - Owed - One Wedding Night

NANCY HOLLAND

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Harper Impulse an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2015

Copyright © Nancy Holland 2015

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover design by Michelle Andrews

Nancy Holland asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © May 2015 ISBN: 9780008127374

Version 2015-05-27

In loving memory of my mother, who introduced me to romance and always believed this day would come.

Contents

Cover

Title Page Owed: One Wedding Night NANCY HOLLAND A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2015 Copyright © Nancy Holland 2015 Cover images © Shutterstock.com Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015 Cover design by Michelle Andrews Nancy Holland asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress. Ebook Edition © May 2015 ISBN: 9780008127374 Version 2015-05-27

Dedication In loving memory of my mother, who introduced me to romance and always believed this day would come.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Acknowledgements

Nancy Holland

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Madison Ellsworth’s heart pounded in rhythm with the noisy staccato of her heels on the marble floor of Carlyle & Sons’ San Francisco headquarters. The unwelcoming glass-and-steel decor, softened only here and there by hand-woven wall-hangings in shades of rust, gold, and azure, made the long path from the elevator to the receptionist’s desk seem endless.

She could do this. She had to do this. Her mother had gone through so much in the last two months. The least Madison could do was take this one burden off of her shoulders. If she felt like a sacrificial lamb on the way to slaughter, she had no one to blame but herself. She crossed her fingers for luck.

When she finally reached the stunning metal sculpture that was the receptionist’s desk, the redhead who sat behind it looked up at her with a small frown.

Madison shifted the Italian leather briefcase her mother had given her when she got into Stanford Business School from one damp hand to the other. “I’m here to see Mr. Carlyle.”

“I’m sorry.” The receptionist didn’t sound sorry at all. “He has an appointment with,” she glanced at the computer screen, cleverly hidden in the desk. “With a Mrs. Ellsworth.”

Madison took a deep breath and resisted the need to lift a hand and check that her sleek up-do was still perfect. “Mrs. Ellsworth couldn't make it. I’m her daughter.”

The redhead gave a small shrug and pushed a hidden button on the desk.

“Your ten o’clock appointment is here, Mr. Carlyle.”

The distance from the reception area to Jake Carlyle’s office was only a fraction of the walk from the elevator, but it felt ten times longer. At every clack of Madison’s heels on polished marble, the urge to forget this whole plan and head for the safety of home threatened to overwhelm her.

She forced her mother’s worried face to the front of her mind to block out everything but her promise to save Dartmoor Department Stores. If she thought too much about how Jake might react when he saw her, she could never do this. But her mother had paid too high a price to hold on to the family business for Madison to quit now.

Besides, there was no reason she and the head of Carlyle & Sons couldn’t discuss the issue like adults.

The receptionist glided ahead of her and opened the door to the office with a flourish.

The antique mahogany desk that dominated the room on the other side of the door was impressive. The man behind it was even more impressive.

Jake Carlyle’s face was elevated above mere masculine good looks by the slash of cheekbones inherited from the fashion model who had deigned to become his mother. The hand-tailored gray pinstripe suit emphasized the power of his tall, muscular frame.

He stood with a frown as Madison stepped into his inner sanctum.

Merely looking at the man took her breath away. When he raised sapphire-blue eyes to meet hers, her heart stopped entirely, then thudded back to life in double time.

Taking him by surprise was the only point in her favor. She watched the emotions run across the face she knew so well – surprise, a hint of lust, curiosity, and, finally, the beginnings of anger.

The anger made him lift his head slightly. His expression returned to the polite boredom a man like Jake Carlyle displayed to mere mortals, yet a frisson of sexual excitement lingered in the climate-controlled air.

“What are you doing here?”

Just what her frayed nerves needed – the man was channeling her father. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

“Mother doesn’t feel well, so I came instead.”

He looked away. For a moment, she’d rattled him. She lifted her chin a little higher and waited for his next move.