Catherine Spencer - A Little Corner Of Paradise

Cover Page

Excerpt “I loathe you!” If Madeleine had guessed the reaction that would provoke, she’d have run for cover. But by the time she realized she’d pushed him too far, he had her face cupped in his hands and his mouth hovering above hers. Resist him! her shocked mind urged. Instead she wilted, and let him kiss her. Thoroughly, erotically and in his own sweet time. He lifted his head. “How much do you loathe me, Madeleine?”

About the Author CATHERINE SPENCER, once an English teacher, fell into writing through eavesdropping on a conversation about Harlequin romances. Within two months she changed careers and sold her first book to Mills & Boon in 1984. She moved to Canada from England thirty years ago and lives in Vancouver. She is married to a Canadian and has four grown children—two daughters and two sons—plus three dogs and a cat. In her spare time she plays the piano, collects antiques and grows tropical shrubs.

Title Page A Little Corner Of Paradise Catherine Spencer www.millsandboon.co.uk

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Copyright

If Madeleine had guessed the reaction that would provoke, she’d have run for cover. But by the time she realized she’d pushed him too far, he had her face cupped in his hands and his mouth hovering above hers.

Resist him! her shocked mind urged. Instead she wilted, and let him kiss her. Thoroughly, erotically and in his own sweet time.

He lifted his head. “How much do you loathe me, Madeleine?”

CATHERINE SPENCER, once an English teacher, fell into writing through eavesdropping on a conversation about Harlequin romances. Within two months she changed careers and sold her first book to Mills & Boon in 1984. She moved to Canada from England thirty years ago and lives in Vancouver. She is married to a Canadian and has four grown children—two daughters and two sons—plus three dogs and a cat. In her spare time she plays the piano, collects antiques and grows tropical shrubs.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SOMETHING—the sight of his last living relative’s face, perhaps—brought Edmund back from the no-man’s land separating life from death.

In an all too brief moment of lucidity the old man begged, ‘I don’t want to see it sold. Don’t let them take it away from me, my boy.’

‘Take what, Grandfather?’

‘The Spindrift Island property.’ Edmund clutched his grandson’s hand, agitation lending him fleeting strength. ‘Flora doesn’t understand what it meant to your grandmother. She’ll let them take it unless you put a stop to it.’

It was Nick’s first inkling that such a possibility existed. ‘Who are “they”?’ he asked, appalled.

But Flora, who he knew had been hovering outside the door, eavesdropping as she always did whenever he spent time alone with his grandfather, fluttered into the room and told him that it wasn’t good for Edmund to get so stirred up.

‘Stay out of this, Flora!’ Nick snapped, his patience at an end. “This isn’t any of your business.’

‘Yes, it is,’ she protested quaveringly. ‘I need to talk to you privately, Nick.’

‘Later,’ he snapped, and turned back to his grandfather. But it was too late. Edmund was already slipping back to that murky other world. ‘Politicians,’ he muttered vaguely, ‘they’re all crooks. Never trust them, my boy. They line their pockets on other men’s misery…’

Nick waited until his grandfather slept again, then ushered Flora into the day-salon with rather less courtesy than was acceptable in her social circles. ‘What the hell is this all about, Flora?’

She dissolved into fat tears on the spot, which merely increased his ire. He hated women who resorted to crying in order to blackmail a man and bring him to heel.

‘We’ve run out of money,’ she wailed.

‘Don’t be daft,’ he replied unsympathetically. ‘Even you can’t have gone through Edmund’s entire fortune.’

But the devil of it was, she had. Almost to the last red cent. Certainly to the point that for over five years the property taxes hadn’t been paid on the Spindrift Island summer place.

‘The local council’s going to take it away from us unless we pay,’ Flora bawled. ‘And that’s not all. They’re going to sell it for just enough to cover the debt. But your grandfather gets so upset whenever I try to explain that I’ve stopped talking to him about it.’

At first Nick didn’t believe her. Couldn’t believe that Edmund’s wealth had been depleted to the point where something as basic as tax had gone unpaid. But, when he started delving into the accumulation of papers on the desk in his grandfather’s study, the truth became woefully apparent. Poor old Edmund was on the brink of bankruptcy.

Nick couldn’t stand idly by and let that happen. So he did the only thing he could to prevent it.

MADELEINE was just setting off with Peg Leg for their early walk over the dunes on Thursday morning when Andy Latham’s patrol car swept up her driveway and stopped outside her front door.

‘Glad I caught you, love,’ he said, climbing out. But despite the endearment she knew at once that he’d come on official business because the next thing he did was plant his peaked police officer’s cap firmly on his blond head. Andy always played strictly by the rules, which was one of the reasons Madeleine felt so comfortable around him.

She smiled warmly. ‘You don’t look too worried, so it can’t be serious, Andy. Did I violate a parking by-law or something?’

‘Funny you should ask that,’ he replied, his own smile not quite as brilliant in return, ‘because where someone is parked is what brought me out here—though the someone in question doesn’t happen to be you.’ He bent down to pat Peg Leg, who was hopping around on her three good paws begging for affection as usual, and by the time he looked up again his expression had turned sober. ‘You’ve got uninvited company. Someone’s set up camp down on the old Tyler property. I could see fresh tire-tracks on the driveway when I passed by on my way here. Apparently he showed up in town late yesterday, and stopped by Wickman’s Garage to get directions. A man in a four-wheel drive Jeep, towing a big, flashy RV, according to Brent, and definitely no one from around these parts.’

‘Should I be worried?’ Madeleine asked lightly, but Andy continued to look grave. Since he took his work very seriously, however, that in itself wasn’t too surprising.

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘At the very least you should be aware, and take suitable precautions to protect yourself.’

Protect herself? From a camper? ‘Don’t be absurd, Andy. It’s a free country and there aren’t any signs posted on the Tyler land warning against trespassing. He’s probably just some harmless old man looking for a spot to do a little quiet fishing.’

‘He’s not old, and I’m not so sure he’s harmless. He showed too much interest in the area for my peace of mind—found it so fascinating, in fact, that he ended up buying Brent a pint down at the Edgewater Arms after the garage closed for the night.’

Madeleine laughed again, genuinely amused. Brent Wickman was famous for his willingness to gossip with anyone who’d stand still long enough for him to open his mouth. To find a listener willing to treat him to a beer while he indulged in his favorite pastime must have struck him as an abundance of riches far surpassing the usual. ‘That might make the visitor a beggar for punishment, Andy, but it hardly makes him an ax-murderer.’