The Millionaire's Inexperienced Love-Slave

Enjoy eight new titles from Harlequin Presents in August!

Lucy Monroe brings you her next story in the fabulous ROYAL BRIDES series, and look out for Carole Mortimer’s second seductive Sicilian in her trilogy THE SICILIANS. Don’t miss Miranda Lee’s ruthless millionaire, Sarah Morgan’s gorgeous Greek tycoon, Trish Morey’s Italian boss and Jennie Lucas’s forced bride! Plus, be sure to read Kate Hardy’s story of passion leading to pregnancy in One Night, One Baby, and the fantastic Taken by the Maverick Millionaire by Anna Cleary!

We’d love to hear what you think about Presents. E-mail us at Presents@hmb.co.uk or join in the discussions at www.iheartpresents.com and www.sensationalromance.blogspot.com, where you’ll also find more information about books and authors!

Men who can’t be tamed…or so they think!

If you love strong, commanding men,

you’ll love this miniseries.

Meet the guy who breaks the rules to get

exactly what he wants, because he is…

HARD-EDGED & HANDSOME

He’s the man who’s impossible to resist….

RICH & RAKISH

He’s got everything, and needs nobody…

until he meets one woman….

He’s RUTHLESS!

in his pursuit of passion; in his world

the winner takes all!

Brought to you by your favorite

Harlequin Presents® authors!

Miranda Lee

THE MILLIONAIRE’S INEXPERIENCED LOVE-SLAVE

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

MILLS & BOON

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All about the author…

Miranda Lee

MIRANDA LEE was born in Port Macquarie, a popular seaside town on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, Australia. Her father was a country schoolteacher and brilliant sportsman. Her mother was a talented dressmaker.

After leaving her convent school, Miranda briefly studied the cello before moving to Sydney, where she embraced the emerging world of computers. Her career as a programmer ended after she married, had three daughters and bought a small acreage in a semirural community.

Miranda attempted greyhound training, as well as horse and goat breeding, but was left dissatisfied. She yearned to find a creative career that allowed her to earn money. When her sister suggested writing romances, it seemed like a good idea. She could do it at home, and it might even be fun!

It took a decade of trial and error before her first romance, After the Affair, was accepted and published. At that time, Miranda, her husband and her three daughters had moved back to the central coast, where they could enjoy the sun and the surf lifestyle once again.

Numerous successful stories followed, each embodying Miranda’s trademark style: fast-paced sexy rhythms; passionate, real-life characters; and enduring, memorable story lines. She has one credo when writing romances: Don’t bore the reader! Millions of fans worldwide agree she never does.

CONTENTS

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 ONE

SHARNI was about to have lunch in a very trendy Sydney café when her dead husband walked in!

Her hands shook as they gripped the menu, her heart racing as she stared at Ray with shocked eyes.

Common sense finally kicked in, steadying her thudding heartbeat and whirling head.

Of course it wasn’t Ray. Just some man who looked like him.

No, that was an understatement. A huge one. This man didn’t just look like Ray, he was the spitting image of him. If she hadn’t personally identified her husband’s lifeless body five years ago, Sharni might have imagined he’d somehow not been on that horrible train that fateful day.

My God, he even walked like Ray!

Sharni’s stunned gaze slavishly followed the man as he was shown to a table by the window, not all that far from her own. She kept trying to find something different, something out of sync with her mental memory of the husband she’d loved, and lost.

There was nothing.

Maybe this man was a little taller. And dressed a little better. That rusty brown suede jacket he was wearing looked very expensive. So did his cream silk shirt and smart fawn trousers.

Other than that, everything was the same. The same body shape. The same face. The same hair, both in colour and style.

Ray had had the loveliest hair: thick and wavy, a rich brown with a hint of red. He’d worn it longish, well down onto his shirt collar. She’d loved running her hands through his hair. He’d loved it, too.

Ray’s double had exactly the same hair.

Sharni’s mouth dried as she waited for him to sit down, waited to see if he would scoop his hair back from his forehead the way Ray had done every time he sat down.

When he did, Sharni only just stopped herself from crying out.

What cruel trick of fate was this?

She’d been doing so well lately, finally feeling capable of moving on with her life. She was working again. Okay, only part-time, but it was better than sitting at home all day.

This trip to Sydney had been another huge step for her. When her sister had given her a weekend package holiday in Sydney for her thirtieth birthday a couple of months ago, Sharni had initially shrunk from the idea.

‘I can’t leave Mozart for a whole weekend, Janice,’ she’d said straight away, even though she knew this was just an excuse.

Admittedly, Mozart was not the easiest of dogs to mind. He still pined for Ray and could become snappy with other people. John, however—a local vet and Sharni’s employer—had a way with the sad little terrier, and would happily mind him for Sharni.

Janice had seen through her excuse and worked on her quite relentlessly. So had Sharni’s psychologist, a very kind lady who’d been treating her since she was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress a year ago.

Finally, Sharni agreed to go.

Getting on that damned train yesterday had been difficult, but she’d managed, though she’d grabbed for her mobile the moment the train had moved away from the station, fearing a panic attack coming on. Janice had calmed her down with some sympathetic but sensible talking, and by the time the train had arrived in Sydney Sharni had felt a little like her old confident self. Confident enough, anyway, to have her hair done first thing this morning in the hotel beauty salon before hitting the shops to buy some new clothes. Just casual ones, but more expensive than what she usually bought.

Money wasn’t a problem, Sharni hardly having touched the three-million-dollar compensation payment she’d received eighteen months ago.

When she’d walked into this café shortly after one, dressed in one of her new outfits, her spirit had been much more optimistic, and her stomach free from anxiety.

Now, suddenly, her whole world had tipped out of kilter again.

She couldn’t stop staring at the handsome stranger with his heartbreakingly familiar features.

Sharni had read somewhere that everyone had a double in this world, but this was way beyond being a double. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said this man was Ray’s twin brother.

Her mouth fell open at this last thought. Maybe he was! Ray, after all, had been adopted, and had never found out the circumstances behind his birth, saying he didn’t want to know.

It wasn’t unheard of for twins to be separated at birth and adopted out to different families. Could that be the solution to the startling evidence before her eyes?

She had to find out.

Had to.

CHAPTER TWO

ADRIAN had spotted the attractive brunette through the glass front of the café before coming inside. Despite his having a penchant for attractive brunettes, her presence had nothing to do with his entering. Since moving into his luxury apartment in Bortelli Tower a month ago, Adrian had become a regular at the ground-floor café, partly because of its convenience but mostly because the food was great.

The brunette had looked up when he’d walked in. Looked up and looked right at him. Hard.

At another time, Adrian might have encouraged her by returning solid eye contact, instead of averting his own gaze and pretending he hadn’t noticed her interest.

Today, however, he was not in the mood for female company. He was still smarting over what Felicity had said to him last night.

‘You should never have a real girlfriend,’ she’d thrown at him after he’d been appallingly late for a dinner date. ‘What you need is a mistress! Someone on tap who’s just there for the sex. Someone you don’t have to seriously care about, or consider. What I need is a man to love me with his whole heart and soul. The only thing you love, Adrian Palmer, is yourself, and your bloody buildings. I’m sick to death of waiting for you to ring me, or to show up. A good friend warned me about your reputation as a womanising workaholic, but I stupidly thought I could change you. I see now that I can’t. So I’m out of here. Maybe one day you’ll meet some girl who’ll break your heart. I sure hope so.’

Being told he had a reputation as a womanising workaholic had shocked Adrian. So had the realisation that he’d hurt Felicity, whom he’d always thought was as career-orientated as he was. Obviously, she’d been more emotionally involved with him than he’d ever been with her.

He should have noticed, he supposed. But he hadn’t.

He’d spent a sobering few hours last night, vowing to change his self-centred ways. Which was why he continued to ignore the brunette, despite his male ego being seriously stroked by the way her eyes followed him all the way across the room.

But when he sat down and scooped his hair back out of his own eyes, he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window.

Wow, she wasn’t just attractive. She was very attractive, with long glossy black hair framing a pretty face and big brown eyes, which remained flatteringly glued to him.

When he picked up the menu, Adrian couldn’t help slanting a quick glance her way. Her eyes immediately dropped away, but not before he saw embarrassment in them.

Thank goodness she wasn’t the bold type, he thought, otherwise he might be tempted to go over to her table and ask her to join him for lunch. Which didn’t say much for his resolve to mend his womanising ways.

The brunette’s action of getting up from her table and approaching his totally surprised Adrian.

‘Um…excuse me,’ she said, rather hesitantly.

He glanced up from where he’d been pretending to read the menu.

She was even prettier up close, with a heart-shaped face, clear skin, a sweet little turned-up nose and a very kissable mouth. Her figure wasn’t half bad, either, shown to advantage in superbly tailored black trousers and a fitted pink jumper, which emphasised her full breasts and tiny waist.

‘I’m sorry,’ she went on, ‘but I have a question which I simply must ask you. You’ll probably think it very rude of me, but I…I need to know.’

‘Know what?’

‘Are you adopted, by any chance?’

Adrian blinked up at her. As a pick-up line, this was a highly original one and very effective. Far better than the old ‘Have we met somewhere before?’

Maybe he’d misread her earlier. Maybe she was bold. But with enough womanly wiles to be subtle in pursuit of what she wanted.

That was one of the reasons he was drawn to brunettes. He’d always found them interesting. And more of a challenge.

Adrian was a man who liked a challenge.

‘No, I’m definitely not,’ he replied, and wondered what she’d do now.

She frowned, her expression bewildered.

‘Are you absolutely sure? I mean…I don’t want to cause trouble, but some parents don’t tell their children they’re adopted. Is there any chance at all that you could be?’

Adrian finally appreciated that she wasn’t trying to pick him up. Her question was genuine, evidenced by the distress in her quite lovely brown eyes.

‘I assure you that I am my parents’ biological child, and I have photos to prove it. Besides,’ he added, ‘my father would never have kept something as important as that from me. He was a real stickler for honesty.’

‘That’s incredible, then,’ she said. ‘Truly incredible.’

‘What is?’ he asked, curious now.

She shook her head. ‘No matter,’ she muttered rather dispiritedly. ‘I’m sorry for bothering you.’

‘No, don’t go,’ he said when she began to turn away. There was a mystery here to solve.

Adrian loved mysteries almost as much as challenges.

‘You can’t leave me up in the air like this. I need to know why you thought I was adopted. Sit down and tell me.’

She glanced worriedly back at her table where she’d left her handbag, along with several shopping bags.

‘Why don’t you get your things and join me for lunch?’ he suggested.

She stared back at him for a long moment. ‘I’m sorry. I…I don’t think I can do that.’

‘Why not?’

Her eyes grew agitated, as did her hands, their wringing action bringing his attention to her wedding and engagement rings.

The realisation that she was married disappointed Adrian more than anything had in a long time.

‘Because your husband wouldn’t like it?’ he said, nodding towards her left hand.

Mentioning her husband seemed to agitate her more.

‘I…I don’t have a husband any more,’ she blurted out. ‘I’m a widow.’

Adrian found it hard to hide his satisfaction at this news.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and tried to sound sincere.

‘He was killed in an accident. I…I identified his body. I…Oh, God, I…I have to sit down.’

She slumped into the chair opposite him, her pale skin having gone a pasty grey colour.

Adrian hastened to pour her a glass of chilled water from the carafe on the table. She gulped it down, after which she shook her head again.

‘You must think me mad. It’s just that you…you look so much like him.’

‘Like who?’ he said just before the penny dropped.

‘Ray.’

‘Your dead husband.’

‘Yes. The resemblance is uncanny. You…you could be twins.’

‘I see,’ Adrian said. ‘So that’s why you wanted to know if I was adopted.’

‘It…it seemed the only solution.’

‘They say everyone has a double, you know.’

‘Yes, yes, so I’ve heard. That must be the case here. But it was still a shock.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Actually, now that I see you up close, your features are not exactly the same as Ray’s. Some things are a bit different. I’m just not sure what…’ Her head tipped to one side as she studied his face.

‘How long ago was your husband killed?’ he asked, thinking it had to be recent.

‘Five years.’

Adrian frowned. Five years! And she was grieving still. She must have loved him a lot. Still, it was high time she moved on. She was still young, and very lovely. Very, very lovely, he thought with a familiar prickling in his loins.

‘Ray was killed in a train derailment in the Blue Mountains,’ she explained sadly. ‘Several people died that day.’

‘I remember that. It was very tragic. And preventable, if I recall rightly.’

‘Yes. The train was going too fast for the conditions of the track.’

‘I’m very sorry for your loss. Did you and your husband have any children?’ She looked old enough to have had children. In her late twenties, or maybe thirty.

‘What? No,’ she said a bit brusquely. ‘No, we didn’t. Look, I…I think I’d better get back to my own table. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for the water.’

Adrian extended his right hand over the table towards her before she could escape.

‘My name is Adrian Palmer,’ he introduced himself. ‘I’m an only child, son of Dr Arthur Palmer, general practitioner, now deceased, and Mrs May Palmer, one-time nurse, long retired. I’m thirty-six years old, unmarried and a successful architect. I designed this building.’

She stared at his outstretched hand, then up at his face. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

‘So that I won’t be a stranger. That is why you refused to have lunch with me, isn’t it?’

CHAPTER THREE

SHARNI didn’t know what to say. Because her refusal to have lunch with Adrian had nothing to do with his being a stranger.

‘Oh, I see,’ he said knowingly, his hand dropping back to the table. ‘It’s because I remind you too much of your husband.’

‘Yes,’ she choked out. And it wasn’t just his looks. She still could not forget the way he’d swept his hair back from his forehead. Not to mention the way he walked, with long, loose-limbed strides.

Just like Ray.

‘Is that such a bad thing?’ he asked gently.

‘Well, no, I guess not…’

‘Now that you’re over the shock of our physical similarities, I’m sure you can see lots of differences.’

His voice was certainly different. Ray had had a rather strong Australian accent. This man—this Adrian Palmer—spoke with a voice that betrayed a private-school education. Not plumy, but cultured and refined.

He also had a confident air about him that Ray had never possessed. Her husband had been a quiet, shy man whose emotional neediness had appealed to Sharni’s nurturing nature.

It was ironic, however, that his double was an architect, the profession Ray had always aspired to but which he’d never felt he had the ability to enter. Instead, he’d become a draughtsman.

‘Please don’t say no,’ his double said, and smiled a smile that was totally unlike Ray. It was a seductive smile, showing dazzlingly white teeth and an almost irresistible charm.

Sharni was surprised to find herself wavering. Maybe because, suddenly, he didn’t remind her of Ray at all.

‘It’s only lunch,’ he added, blue eyes twinkling up at her.

Ray’s eyes had rarely twinkled, she recalled. They’d been quiet pools whilst this man’s resembled a sparkling sea.

‘All right,’ she agreed before she could think better of it.

He was up out of his chair in a flash, getting her things before she could hardly draw breath.

‘Been clothes shopping, have we?’ he said breezily as he placed her carrier bags on the spare chair next to her.

‘What? Oh, yes. I…I still have some more to do this afternoon.’

‘Right.’

When he sat back down, he swept his hair back with his hand again, leaving Sharni speechless once more.

He smiled at her across the table. ‘You’d better introduce yourself.’

‘What?’ she said blankly.

‘Your name. Or do you want to remain a mystery woman?’

Sharni gave herself a mental shake. ‘There’s not much mystery about me,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘It’s Sharni. Sharni Johnson.’

‘Sharni,’ he repeated. ‘That’s a most unusual name. But it suits you. Ah, here’s the waiter for our order. Do you know what you want, Sharni, or would you like to take a risk and let me order for you? It’s not too much of a risk, as I’ve eaten here several times before, haven’t I, Roland?’

‘Indeed, you have, Mr Palmer,’ Roland answered.

‘Very well,’ she said, thinking to herself that Adrian Palmer’s confidence bordered on arrogance.

‘You like seafood?’ he asked as he studied the menu.

‘Yes.’

‘What about wine? Do you like white wine?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case, Roland, we’ll have the steamed bream fillets with side salad, followed by the almond and plum tart. With cream. But first, bring us a bottle of that white I had the other day. You know the one. It’s a Sauvignon Blanc from Margaret River.’

‘Right away, Mr Palmer.’

Sharni had to admire his savoir-faire. It had been a long time since a man had ordered a meal for her with such panache. Ray had been a bit of a waffler when it came to deciding what to order in a restaurant. Making decisions had not been her husband’s forte. That had been her domain.

Or it had once. Sharni’s decision-making capabilities had disintegrated shortly after she’d won the compensation case. It was as though she’d stayed strong whilst she’d sought justice. But the moment the verdict had come down in her favour, she’d gone to mush.

Winning three million dollars compensation had proved to be a hollow victory, because all the money in the world would never make up for the loss of her husband and her beautiful little baby.

Still, life did go on, as Janice kept telling her.

Her sister would have been proud of her for not running away just now. Though she might be suspicious of Sharni’s motives for agreeing to having lunch with Ray’s double. Janice might think she was pretending Ray were still alive, and nothing had changed at all.

That was not the case. This man might look like Ray, but he was nothing like him in personality. The only time she could ever pretend he was Ray was if he didn’t speak. Or if he was asleep.

‘You really designed this building?’ she asked once the waiter departed.

‘I certainly did. Do you like it?’

‘To be honest, I haven’t had a proper look at it. I was walking past on this side of the street, smelt food, realised it was lunch-time and came in for something to eat.’

‘After lunch, I’ll give you the royal tour. I live on one of the upper floors.’

Lord, she thought. What a fast worker!

‘I don’t think so, Mr Palmer.’

‘Adrian,’ he corrected with another of those seductive smiles of his.

Sharni had to confess that she found his attention flattering. She also found him very attractive. Which was only logical. Ray’s looks had been the first thing to attract her. Physically, he’d stood out in a crowd. It wasn’t till she’d talked to him that she’d realised how shy he was.

That had appealed to her at the time. Nowadays, however, she would probably go for a more confident, outgoing kind of man, the kind who would look after her, not the other way around.

But she wasn’t ready yet to leap back into the dating world, especially not with the dead spit of her dead husband. And certainly not with such an accomplished ladies’ man.

Sharni knew a womaniser when she met one.

‘I don’t think so, Adrian,’ she said quite coolly. ‘Lunch is all I agreed to. Take it or leave it.’

He sighed. But it didn’t sound like a defeated sigh. Sharni suspected he was already thinking of another tack to take.