Avril Tremayne - Getting Naughty

What’s the answer to a slow burn?

A superhot fling!

High-flying US lawyer Teague Hamilton has always been way out of free-spirited Frankie’s league, but she’s never hidden her desire to break down all blue-blooded Teague’s barriers and corrupt him entirely! When he accepts her proposal of a naughty-but-nice fling, she’s as surprised as he is. But will their hot two weeks be enough to quench a desire that’s been burning for ten long years?

AVRIL TREMAYNEis an award-winning author of sexy modern urban romances, featuring heroes strong enough to make any woman swoon and stronger heroines who nevertheless refuse to do so. She took a circuitous route to becoming a writer, via careers in nursing, teaching, public relations and corporate affairs—most recently in global aviation, which gave her a voracious appetite for travel. She currently lives in Sydney, Australia, but is feverishly plotting to move her family to Italy for half of every year. When she’s not reading or writing, Avril can be found dining to excess, drinking lots of wine and obsessing over shoes. Find her at avriltremayne.com, on Facebook at avril.tremayne, on Twitter, @AvrilTremayne, or on Instagram, @avril_tremayne.

If you liked Getting Naughty, why not try

Her Guilty Secret by Clare Connelly

Stripped by Nicola Marsh

Sweet as Sin by J. Margot Critch

Also by Avril Tremayne

Reunions

Getting Lucky

Getting Even

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Getting Naughty

Avril Tremayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08684-4

GETTING NAUGHTY

© 2019 Belinda de Rome

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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This one’s for my mother—who may require a strong

drink to read past this page!

Acknowledgments

Getting Naughty emerged from my great desire to include the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race somehow, somewhere, in a story. I’m so lucky Alex Lomakin was on hand to share his firsthand experience of the race with me. Thanks, Alex!

I’d also like to thank my fabulous, superpatient editor, Bryony Green, for taking all three of my precious Dare gems and polishing them to a fine sparkle.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

About the Publisher

TEAGUE STRETCHED HIS arms over his head and sucked in a lungful of summer air as he peered at Frankie’s doll-sized cottage, which was situated at the end of a long driveway that ran alongside a squat redbrick apartment building.

It was so small he’d probably have to duck to fit under the lintel.

If she invited him in.

If she even heard him knock, given it was barely eight o’clock on a Sunday morning.

His memory of Frankie’s Saturday nights was that they were big and wild, so unless she’d changed drastically in the ten years since he’d last seen her, chances were that at this precise moment she’d be either comatose or contemplating the walk of shame from wherever she’d ended up after work last night.

And it was too bad he chose now to remember that instead of thirty minutes ago, when he’d gotten into the taxi at Sydney Airport. At that point, he could have done as his best friend Matt had suggested during those chaotic last moments at Heathrow: gone to his hotel, gotten some sleep, and called Frankie at a civilized hour to arrange a time to meet for the handover.

Handover! Like he was doing some illicit drug deal.

Not that dealers dragged their supplies around with them in wheeled suitcases. Or maybe they did. What did he know? He was a corporate lawyer, not a criminal one.

Whatever. It was too late to change his mind because he’d let the taxi go and stranded himself.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, get it over with,” he ordered himself, and trudged up the path, stopping at a ratty-looking welcome mat that announced, You Have Arrived at Your Destination.

“I don’t think so, Frankie Lee,” he scoffed, stepping up to the door.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt to make sure it was sitting straight, ran a hand over his hair, dragged in another lungful of air and knocked.

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

He knocked again, just so he could say he’d really tried.

Waited for proof of life.

Nothing.

Okay, three strikes and you’re out a-a-and knock.

Silence.

He looked back down the driveway, picturing Frankie in one of her vintage dresses, black hair disheveled, makeup smeared, humming a satisfied tune and swinging her shoes from one hand as she meandered up the path as though she owned the world and all its contents.