Roberta Leigh - Give A Man A Bad Name

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

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WHEN Marly Bradshaw saw Alex Hamilton for the first time, she knew he was the man of her dreams.

It was an unusually romantic thought for a young woman who had always considered herself practical and intelligent; more interested in her career than cooking, in climbing the corporate ladder than catering to a husband’s whims.

And yet...

‘He affected me that way too,’ her closest friend Nan commented. ‘Even now my heart thumps when I see him.’

‘He probably has a squeaky voice and a wife and four kids!’ Marly grinned.

Nan shook her head so vigorously that her thick black hair, permed into a riot of curls, bounced around her head. ‘He has the sexiest deep brown voice and he’s single.’

Further conversation was cut short by Nan being called to Reception, and Marly, returning to her office, thought for the umpteenth time what a stroke of luck it was that Steve Rivers, her boss at 3S Software in London, had asked her if she would consider going to Thailand to set up a computer program for the Riverside Hamilton, the newest luxury hotel of the Hamilton chain.

‘Consider it?’ she had exclaimed. ‘Why, I’d jump at it! My great-grandmother was Thai, and it’s my favourite country in all the world.’

‘Mine too,’ Steve had agreed. ‘How did your great-grandpa meet his wife? Thailand wasn’t a tourist spot in those days.’

‘He was a diplomat, and so was her father. They met at an embassy party and it was love at first sight.’

A month later had found Marly in Bangkok, staying with Nan Damrong and her parents. The two girls had met at boarding-school, and since then Marly had visited Thailand every other year, so that the prospect of seeing Nan for a couple of months had made the job doubly attractive.

Arriving at the Riverside for her first day of work, she had been disconcerted to discover that Alex Hamilton, heir to the business and temporary manager of its newest hotel, had been called to a board meeting in New York, leaving her to kick her heels till he returned and told her exactly how he wanted her to prepare the software.

Chafing at the delay, she had none the less used it to learn as much about the running of the hotel as possible, knowing it would help her devise the most efficient program. She had also renewed her acquaintance with Bangkok, for in the two years since she had been here it had changed considerably, with the addition of two more luxury hotels, another huge shopping complex, and high-rise office blocks mushrooming everywhere.

She had been delighted to find her knowledge of Thai—originally learned from Nan and then perfected by tapes and discs—was as good as ever, thanks to an aptitude for foreign languages. Indeed, one afternoon wandering the crowded streets, she had haggled over the price of a blouse and been mistaken for a Thai! As she was petite and fine-boned, with silky black hair inherited from her great-grandmother, and almond-shaped brown eyes inherited from a Cornish grandfather, this wasn’t surprising. And even after she had produced her passport to prove it, the local man had not been entirely convinced.

She was still amused by the incident when, returning to the Riverside, she had her first glimpse of Alex Hamilton. Not that she had known who he was. She had been standing by the magazine stall to one side of the huge marble foyer, when an unusual bustle at the vast plate-glass entrance doors made her turn to see what it was about. Yet another VIP, she had assumed, and expecting one to saunter in, had instead seen a very tall man with hair thick and tawny as a lion’s mane stride smartly across the floor, accompanied by scurrying minions.

Curious to know who he was, she had moved forward, not realising she was in his path until he stopped and frowned. Not even the drawing together of strongly marked eyebrows could mar the handsome face, for which the word ‘chiselled’ was singularly apt. High cheekbones swept down to a firm jaw, redeemed from squareness by a cleft chin, and deep-set eyes—the grey of woodland smoke—raked her from head to toe.

If he had run his hands over her body her reaction could not have been more startled. It was as if she had been given a shot of adrenalin. Her pulses raced, her breathing quickened, and the world seemed a brighter, more exciting place.

I’m mad, she thought, quite mad! But she knew she wasn’t; she was simply aware that for the first time in her life her innermost core had been touched. Colour came and went in her cheeks and she mumbled an apology and stepped back, glad of the huge dark glasses half covering her face.

Acknowledging her movement with a faint smile, which drew her attention to his mobile, well shaped mouth, he strode past her, and as he disappeared into a lift, still accompanied by members of the hotel staff, she asked a passing bellboy who he was.

‘Mr Hamilton,’ came the reply.

Stunned, she had stared at the lift doors. So that was the man who was to be her boss for the next two months! The prospect was as full of spice as gingerbread, and she had raced up the wide, carpeted stairs to the mezzanine floor that led to the offices, intent on sharing her experience with Nan.

‘He’s a real dreamboat, isn’t he?’ her friend had agreed. ‘But not an easy man to know. He plays his cards close to his chest.’

‘Does he have a girlfriend?’

‘In the plural. They line up for him and fall at his feet like ninepins. But he’s soon off with the old and on with the new.’

Marly was mulling this over as she slid into the passenger seat of Nan’s car to go home, though she did not mull for long, for she was soon holding on to her seat for dear life. Nan, in common with the majority of Thais, drove fast: weaving in and out of traffic, dodging oncoming cars, taxis and tuk-tuks—three-wheeled scooter taxis—and skimming so close to them that she practically scraped their paintwork!

But when a motorcyclist cut in front of them for no reason other than to mount a pavement and park his bike there, Marly had had enough and shut her eyes tight. But she opened them again immediately, deciding it was easier to cope with seen fear. Heart in mouth, she watched Nan shoot along the inside lane, overtake a single-decker bus with people clinging to the doors like limpets, and swing sharply left into the quiet side-street where she lived.

‘I’ll never get used to the way you drive,’ Marly gasped, emerging from the car outside her friend’s home.

Large, beautiful, and built of golden teak, it was in the Thai gabled roof tradition, and could have been mistaken for two houses instead of one, had it not been for the balcony joining them together on the upper floor. It was also quite a rarity among Bangkok’s newer single-storeyed houses with their corrugated-iron roofs, though recently the traditional had started coming back into favour, albeit at exorbitant prices.

Leaving their shoes by the front door before stepping over the threshold—as was the custom—they walked into the living-room and, with palms together and heads bowed, waied Nan’s mother in the time-honoured greeting towards Thai elders and superiors.