HELEN BIANCHIN - The Bridal Bed

“Which bed would you prefer?” “Which bed would you prefer?” Sloane regarded her thoughtfully. “You don’t want to share?” “No,” Suzanne told him. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t dare. It was bad enough having to share the same villa, the same bedroom! To share the same bed was definitely impossible. Unless she was into casual sex, for the sake of sex. And she wasn’t. To her, sex meant intimacy, sensuality, love. “A word of warning, Suzanne,” Sloane said softly. “Don’t expect me to behave like a gentleman.” Title Page The Bridal Bed Helen Bianchin www.millsandboon.co.uk CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN Copyright

“Which bed would you prefer?”

Sloane regarded her thoughtfully. “You don’t want to share?”

“No,” Suzanne told him. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t dare. It was bad enough having to share the same villa, the same bedroom!

To share the same bed was definitely impossible. Unless she was into casual sex, for the sake of sex. And she wasn’t. To her, sex meant intimacy, sensuality, love.

“A word of warning, Suzanne,” Sloane said softly. “Don’t expect me to behave like a gentleman.”

Anything can happen behind closed doors!

Do you dare find out...?

Welcome to the final book in our sizzling, sensual

miniseries DO NOT DISTURB!

Meet the last of four different couples thrown

together by circumstances into a whirlwind of

unexpected attraction. Forced into each other’s

company whether they like it or not, they’re soon in

the grip of passion—and definitely don’t want to

be disturbed!

This month it’s the turn of popular Presents author Helen Bianchin to explore this delicious fantasy in a tantalizing romance you simply won’t want to put down.

What happens when Suzanne and her ex-fiancé

Sloane find themselves sharing The Bridal Bed...?

Turn the pages and find out!

The Bridal Bed

Helen Bianchin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

IT SHOULD be Friday the thirteenth, Suzanne determined as she perused the perfectly printed legal document on her desk and noted yet another clause she knew wasn’t worded to her client’s best interest.

Midwinter had delivered metropolitan Sydney with a shocking day, and she’d woken to howling winds and heavy rain. Consequently she’d got wet traversing the external stairs leading from her tiny Manly flat down to the garage beneath.

Her car, which had up until now behaved impeccably, had decided not to start. A telephone call to the automobile association had elicited there was a backlog of calls, and it would be at least an hour before someone could come to her rescue. Two hours later the diagnosis had been a dead battery, and it had taken a further hour to organise a replacement and drive into the city.

Consequently she’d been late, very late arriving at the inner-city legal office where she worked as one of several junior solicitors. A fact that hadn’t sat well with two waiting clients who had been virtuously punctual. Nor had the senior partner been very happy that she’d missed an important staff meeting.

There had been files piled up on her desk, messages that required attention, and three rescheduled appointments lined up one after the other. Lunch hadn’t even been an option.

Mid-afternoon came and went as she struggled to catch up on a workload that threatened to spill over into work she would have to take home.

‘Suzanne, urgent call on line three.’ The receptionist’s voice sounded hesitant, diffident, and vaguely apologetic for breaching a ‘hold all calls’ instruction. ‘It’s your mother.’

Her mother never rang her at work. An icy hand clutched Suzanne’s heart as she snatched up the receiver. ‘Georgia? Is something wrong?’

A light, husky laugh echoed down the line. ‘Darling, everything’s fine. It’s just that I wanted you to be the first to hear my news.’

‘News, Mama?’ She kept her voice deliberately light. ‘You’ve won a fabulous prize? Bought a new car? Booked an overseas trip?’

There was a breathless pause. ‘Right on two counts.’

‘Which two?’

‘Well, sweetheart,’ Georgia began with a delicious chuckle, ‘the overseas trip is booked...Paris, would you believe? And I have won a fabulous prize.’

‘That’s wonderful.’ Really wonderful. Suzanne shook her head in silent amazement. Georgia was always taking lottery and raffle tickets, but had never won anything other than the most minor of prizes until now.

‘It’s not exactly a prize prize.’

The faintly cautious tone had Suzanne sinking back in her chair. ‘You’re talking in riddles, Mama. Is there a catch to any of this?’

‘No catch. At least, not the kind you mean.’

What had her cautious mother got herself into? ‘I’m listening.’

‘Bear with me, darling.’ Georgia’s voice hitched, then raced on in an excited rush. ‘It’s all so new, I still have a hard time believing it. And I wouldn’t have rung you at work, except I really couldn’t wait a minute longer.’

‘Tell me.’

There was silence for a few seconds. ‘I’m getting married.’

Initial joy was quickly followed by concern, and it was a frightening mix. Her mother didn’t date. There was a collection of friends, but no one man. ‘I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,’ Suzanne said slowly, and heard her mother’s light laughter in response. ‘Who is he, and where did you meet him?’

‘We met at your engagement party, darling.’

Three months. They’d only known each other three months. ‘Who, Mama?’

‘Trenton Wilson-Willoughby. Sloane’s father.’

Oh, my God. Heat rushed through her veins, then chilled to ice. ‘You’re not serious?’ Tell me you’re not serious, she pleaded silently.

‘You sound—shocked,’ Georgia responded slowly, and Suzanne quickly gathered her wits.

Recoup, regroup, fast. ‘Surprised,’ she amended. ‘It seems so sudden.’

‘Sometimes love happens that way. Sloane swept you off your feet in a matter of weeks.’

Like father, like son. ‘Yes,’ she agreed cautiously. Sloane had gifted her a sparkling diamond, whisked her down to Sydney from Brisbane, and moved her into his Rose Bay penthouse apartment before she’d had time to think, let alone catch her breath. Blinded by a riveting attraction and primitive alchemy.

‘When is the wedding taking place?’ A few months from now would give her plenty of time to—what? Explain that she was no longer living with Sloane?

‘This weekend, darling.’ Georgia sounded vaguely breathless and tremendously excited.

This weekend Today was Wednesday, for heaven’s sake. ‘Don’t you think—?’

‘It’s a bit sudden?’ her mother finished. ‘Yes, darling, I do. But Trenton is a very convincing man.’

Suzanne took a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘You’re quite sure about this?’

‘As sure as I can be.’ There was a funny catch in her voice. ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’

Oh, hell. She had to collect her thoughts together. ‘Of course I am. And give you my blessing. I’m just so happy you are happy.’ She was babbling, she knew, but she couldn’t stop. ‘Where is the wedding taking place? Have you chosen what you’ll wear?’

Georgia began to laugh, and, Suzanne suspected, to cry. ‘Bedarra Island, Saturday afternoon. Would you believe Trenton has booked all the accommodation on the island to ensure total privacy? I’m wearing a cream silk suit, with matching shoes and hat. We want you and Sloane to be witnesses.’