JC Harroway - Forbidden To Taste

From bestselling author JC Harroway comes the second book in the Billionaire Bachelors series! Drake Faulkner knows that Kenzie Porter, his best friend’s widow, is off-limits—but that just makes him want her more...

At one time she was the woman Drake Faulkner wanted more than anything but couldn’t have—and now she’s the last person he needs in his life. But when Kenzie Porter, the widow of his former best friend and army comrade Sam, turns up asking for a job at his luxury London hotel chain, the memories return.

Drake is eager to help her, but he knows that doing so will only lead him toward temptation. He doesn’t want to sully the memory of his best friend by falling for Kenzie all over again. There’s a reason he’s been avoiding her for three years: a dark secret about the day she and Sam got together—and about the day Sam died on the battlefield.

But from the moment the pair lock eyes, the sexual connection between them is electrifying. They both know that acting on their forbidden desire for each other would cross a line, but how far can they push the boundaries before someone gets hurt?

Lifelong romance addict JC HARROWAYlives in New Zealand. Writing feeds her very real obsession with happy endings and the endorphin rush they create. You can follow her at jcharroway.com, Facebook.com/jcharroway, Instagram.com/jcharrowayand Twitter.com/jcharroway.

Also by JC Harroway

A Week to be Wild

Her Dirty Little Secret

One Night Only

Billionaire Bachelors

Forbidden to Want

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Forbidden to Taste

JC Harroway

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08693-6

FORBIDDEN TO TASTE

© 2019 JC Harroway

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, 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 publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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To my wonderful editorial team,

specially Sareeta and Charlotte.

Thank you for all your help, support

and general awesomeness.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

I HOVER IN an alcove just outside the kitchen, unstable on the modest heels I’m wearing as part of my impromptu waitress uniform. I take a second to drag in a bolstering lungful of air. Now I’m here, my plan seems crazy. Audacious. But I need to capture his attention somehow.

I spent the whole day perfecting the desserts precariously balanced on my arms in the tiny, ill-equipped kitchenette of my one-bedroom flat. I even carried them here in a catering box on the Tube. Seeing them splattered on the plush carpets of the Faulkner’s fine-dining restaurant because I’m having scaredy-cat second thoughts... Not an option.

The mental slap works. I straighten my shoulders, poised on the brink of my opportunity. I watch the waiter leave the table of interest, a rage of nervous energy jolting me into action—chin up, strides bold, and an air of I totally belong in one of London’s most upmarket eateries with four dessert plates balanced on my arms.

My teenaged waitressing experience keeps my jittery body upright, my serene facial expression in place and my thumb out of the salted-caramel cheesecake as each step brings me closer to the man with the power. But the short walk, which had seemed like a marathon, is over in seconds, and I arrive at his table breathless and adrenaline-depleted.

The sight of Drake up close rattles my bones so hard I have to clamp my jaw to prevent my smile becoming a grimace full of chattering teeth. Not that the four diners would notice—they’re deep in conversation, each handsome brother focussed on his date.

And I’ve always been invisible to Drake, hence tonight’s subterfuge.

I slide a surreptitious glance his way, using the seconds before I’m spotted to assess the ways he’s changed in the three years since the funeral—his face a little more angular, a sprinkle of telltale grey disrupting the inky blackness at his temples, perhaps a few more laughter lines—his appearance familiar but reminding me that we’re strangers.

He’d been a soldier three years ago, every forbidden inch of him lean and buff and rigidly disciplined. Not that I’d looked too closely. But photos Sam had sent from wherever they were posted always featured the handsome duo—my husband and his best friend.

I shudder at the exposed memories and the unexpected surge of heat. I’m only human, and Drake Faulkner is eye candy personified for any woman.

The woman with him now, presumably his date, laughs, her possessive hand on his forearm and her smile wide and captivating.

I swallow the sour taste in my mouth—Drake and I have never had that kind of relationship. We’ve never even been friends. Not really. Yes, he’s sent financial assistance in the regular cheques over the years, but our relationship was cordial at best, a fact that gives me a moment’s hesitation as to what I think I’m doing, about to interrupt what is obviously a double date.