Back In Her Husband's Bed (Bedded By Blackmail)
A warm welcome to all our readers; it’s cold outside, but the books Harlequin Presents has got for you in January will leave you positively glowing!
Raise your temperature with two right royal reads! The Sheikh’s Innocent Bride, by top author Lynne Graham, whisks you away to the blazing dunes of the desert in a classic tale of a proud sheikh’s desire for the young woman employed to clean his castle. Meanwhile, Robyn Donald is back with another compelling Bagaton story in The Royal Baby Bargain, the latest installment in her immensely popular New Zealand-based BY ROYAL COMMAND miniseries.
Want the thermostat turned up? Then why not travel with us to the glorious Greek islands, where Bought by the Greek Tycoon, by favorite author Jacqueline Baird, promises searing emotional scenes and nights of blistering passion, and Susan Stephens’s Virgin for Sale—the first title in our steamy new miniseries UNCUT—sees an uptight businesswoman learning what it is to feel pleasure in the hands of a real man!
For Cathy Williams fans, there’s a new winter warmer: in At the Italian’s Command, the heart of a notoriously cool, workaholic tycoon is finally melted by a frumpy but feisty journalist. And try turning the pages of rising star Melanie Milburne’s latest release—Back in her Husband’s Bed, about a marriage rekindled in sunny Sydney, Australia, is almost too hot to handle!
For a full list of titles and book numbers, see inside the front cover (opposite)—and enjoy!
He’s got her firmly in his sights and she’s got only one chance of survival—surrender to his blackmail…and him…in his bed!
Bedded by… Blackmail!
The big miniseries
from Harlequin Presents®
Dare you read it?
Wedding Vow of Revenge
by Lucy Monroe
#2526
Melanie Milburne
BACK IN HER HUSBAND’S BED
All about the author…
Melanie Milburne
Melanie read her first Harlequin novel when she was seventeen and has never looked back. She decided she would settle for nothing less than a tall dark handsome hero as her future husband. Well, she’s not only still reading romance, but writing it as well! As for the tall dark handsome hero, she fell in love with him on the second date and was secretly engaged to him within six weeks!
They moved to Scotland so he could work and study for his M.D. in surgery, and two sons later, they arrived in Hobart, Tasmania—the jewel in the Australian crown. Once their boys were in school, Melanie went back to university and received her bachelor and then master’s degree.
For her final assessment, she conducted a tutorial in literary theory concentrating on the romance genre. As she was reading a paragraph from the novel of a prominent Harlequin author the door suddenly burst open. The husband that she thought was working was actually standing there dressed in a tuxedo, his dark brown gaze centered on her startled blue one. He strode across the room, hauled Melanie into his arms and kissed her deeply and passionately before setting her back down and leaving without a single word. The lecturer gave Melanie a high distinction and her fellow students gave her jealous glares! You can see by now her pilgrimage into romance writing was more or less set!
Melanie also enjoys long-distance running and is a nationally ranked top-ten masters swimmer in Australia. She learned to swim as an adult, so for anyone who thinks they can’t do something—you can! Her motto is Don’t Say I Can’t; Say I Can Try.
To Diane Perndt and Vicki Flukes.
Through all my thicks or thins, sinks or swims,
losses or wins—you two have been there to either
commiserate or celebrate with me.
Thank you.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
The Creston Tower Hotel, Sydney,
Friday 13th September, 10:33 pm
‘MS GRESHAM!’ A female journalist rushed at Carli with a microphone as soon as the lift doors were prised apart. ‘Tell us about your experience of being trapped in a lift for more than two hours with your ex-husband, Xavier Knightly.’
‘No comment,’ Xavier answered for her, his hands tightening on Carli’s arm as he led her determinedly through the small crowd of reporters.
‘Ms Gresham?’ The microphone swung back to Carli. ‘Is it true you left your marriage to Xavier Knightly to pursue your own career in law?’
‘Please get out of our way,’ Xavier said curtly. ‘We have nothing to say.’
‘There was a lot of interest in the paper you delivered this afternoon, Ms Gresham,’ the indomitable journalist continued. ‘Have you anything further to add?’
‘I—’ Carli opened her mouth to answer but Xavier tugged her along with him down the hall and she had no choice but to follow him.
He shouldered open another exit door and led her up several flights of stairs, finally coming out on the Presidential level.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked somewhat breathlessly as she tried to match his long-strided pace.
‘To my room to have that drink I promised you well over two hours ago,’ he answered grimly. ‘I think I could safely say we’re both in dire need of one.’
Carli was inclined to agree, although she didn’t say it out loud as she waited for him to unlock the door. He held it open for her and she stepped through and looked around with interest, buying some time to get her rattled nerves under some sort of control.
‘Nice suite.’ She inspected the view over the city and harbour with a critical eye. ‘We don’t get this sort of luxurious comfort in steerage.’
She heard the slide of his silky tie as he removed it from the collar of his shirt and turned around to look at him. ‘But then you always insisted on the best, didn’t you?’
His dark blue eyes held hers. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘No, not unless it comes at the expense of someone else.’
‘I paid for the room in advance.’
‘I didn’t mean that and you know it.’
‘Look, Carli, let’s just drop the feminist crap for a while, OK? I asked you to have a drink with me, not to castrate me.’
She let out her breath on a gasp of indignation. ‘Why is it men always think women are intent on emasculating them whenever we bring up the topic of equality?’
‘I told you I don’t wish to discuss it any further.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ she sniped at him. ‘It’s far too comfortable at the top of the heap, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be interested in making room for anyone else way up there.’
‘What would you like to drink?’ He turned away to the mini-bar compartment, which incensed her even more; she didn’t like being dismissed like a recalcitrant child. It was a skill he’d perfected in the three years they were married but somehow she found it even more annoying now.
‘I don’t want to have a drink.’
‘Fine.’ He poured himself one and sat on one of the sofas and began to drink it.
She shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes carefully avoiding his.
‘The bathroom is through there.’ He pointed behind her, lifting his glass to his mouth once more.
Carli swung away, striding off to where he’d directed, doing her best to ignore the expanse of his bed on her way to the huge en suite.
She took her time in the bathroom, washing
her hands and finger-combing her wild chestnut hair so she didn’t look quite so out of control, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t quite erase the nervous, agitated look she could see reflected in her eyes.
Being trapped in a lift with the man you’d divorced five years ago was not to be recommended, she thought wryly. It had been bad enough knowing he was going to be at the same family-law conference as her, watching her, listening to her…hating her…
She drew in a calming breath and made her way back out to where Xavier was lounging, drink in hand, as if nothing unusual had occurred in the last hour or so.
‘Changed your mind about that drink?’ he asked.
‘I think I’ll have a glass of water.’
He put his drink down and got to his feet to get her what she’d requested. She watched him as he put some ice into a tall glass, pouring some bottled water into it before handing it to her. She took it with a murmur of thanks and began to drink it so she didn’t have to converse with him.
She studied him over the top of her glass, taking in his tall, well-groomed features as if committing them to memory. His hair was still glossy black but there were a few strands of steel grey around his temples that hadn’t been there five years ago. At thirty-six he was quite clearly a man who still enjoyed maintaining a high level of physical fitness. His stomach was flat and his muscles toned, his olive skin tanned in spite of the unusually cold winter Sydney had recently experienced. His clothes were always of the highest quality and although his shirt was undone at the collar and the cuffs at his strong wrists were rolled back casually, the fabric still spoke of a well-known designer.
He was the epitome of the successful man. Power, riches and privilege were things he took more or less for granted. His reputation as a family-law-court lawyer was well known in all legal circles, even those as far out west as hers. The common catchphrase associated with him was ‘get him and get even’. With Xavier Knightly acting for you, back-up wasn’t necessary. He was a veritable army of knowledge and expertise and many of his colleagues had to think twice before taking him on in opposition, knowing how good he was at court-room showdowns.
She met his watchful gaze across the room and couldn’t quite help the instinctive sucking in of her breath at the mere sight of him. She had known every millimetre of his six-foot-four body, had heard him in the throes of passion and in the maelstrom of anger. They had shared so much but in the end it hadn’t been enough…
‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘And for God’s sake would you please stop scowling at me?’
‘I’m not scowling.’
‘Yes, you are. You have your all-men-are-bastards look on your face.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ She sat down heavily and glared at him.
‘There,’ he pointed at her, ‘you’re doing it now—scowling.’
She couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter at his imitation of her expression. ‘I’m not that bad, surely!’
His mouth tilted into a lazy smile as he looked across at her. ‘You look absolutely beautiful when you laugh. I’d forgotten just how beautiful.’
She felt the colour staining her cheeks and hastily lowered her eyes.
‘Look at me, Carli.’
She raised her face to look at him and her heart squeezed at the thought of never seeing those dark blue eyes again.
He’d promised one drink and no further contact.
This was it—the final curtain on their troubled relationship.
The end.
‘I should go.’ She got to her feet and put her glass on the table. ‘We said one drink and I—’
Xavier was on his feet and blocking her exit before she had even finished her sentence. ‘No.’
She gave him a nervous glance. ‘What do you mean…no?’ ‘I’m about to have dinner,’ he said. ‘I know it’s late but why not join me?’
‘Dinner?’ She frowned.
‘You have something against food?’
‘No…but you and me and dinner isn’t really a good combination,’ she pointed out. ‘We’ll probably argue and embarrass the other diners.’
‘There won’t be any other diners if we eat in here by ourselves,’ he said.
She should have seen that coming and was irritated with herself for falling so neatly into the snare he’d so expertly laid.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You’re too thin.’
‘You’re too arrogant!’ she shot back.
‘Now you’re being too sensitive.’
‘And you are being a complete and utter jerk!’ She backed away as he came closer. ‘What are you doing?’ She held up her hands as if to hold him off.
‘If you insist on leaving now then I insist on one last kiss.’
She ran her tongue over her dry lips as the backs of her knees met the edge of the sofa. ‘I don’t want to kiss you,’ she said but her tone lacked the strength of conviction she so desperately needed.
‘Is that the truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?’
‘Don’t play your court-room games with me, Xavier. I came up here for a drink and nothing else and you damn well know it.’
‘One kiss, Carli, for old times’ sake.’
She knew enough about his mouth to know one kiss would never be enough to satisfy her and she had to avoid it at all costs.
‘I have to go…’ She edged away from the sofa and made to brush past him but his hands came down on her shoulders and turned her effortlessly to face him.
‘Why so afraid?’ His dark eyes burned into hers.
‘I’m not…’ She took a lumpy swallow. ‘I just don’t think we should re-plough old fields, that’s all.’
A heavy, pulsing silence began to throb between them.
Carli found her gaze slipping to his mouth almost of its own volition. Her heart began to hammer behind her already tightening breasts, and her legs turned traitor on her by weakening beneath her like dampened paper. She saw his head coming towards her in slow motion but she didn’t move out of his reach. She felt like a light-blinded animal caught by the high beam of a car as it steadily approached.
She couldn’t move even if she tried.
His mouth touched hers so softly she wondered if she’d imagined it, but then he did it again, this time a little firmer, and she felt her lips blaze with instant heat. He stroked his tongue along the cleft of her mouth and her lips parted on a soundless sigh, his entry into the cavern of her mouth sending her pulses skyrocketing out of control.
She felt his hands thread their way through the thick curtain of her hair in the same way he had used to do years ago, the simple action bringing her one step forward so their bodies touched from chest to thigh. She felt the unmistakable length of him swelling against her belly and her inner body responded as if he’d flicked a switch. She felt the silkiness of sensual need between her legs, and her resolve to resist him faded away to some far-away, unreachable place.
She kissed him back with all the pent-up despair of her loneliness over the time they’d been apart, her body aching for him with an intensity she knew she wouldn’t be able to rein back in now it was finally set loose.
Her teeth found his bottom lip and dragged it into her mouth for her tongue to salve. She felt him jerk against her in reaction and couldn’t help a tiny shiver of delight that even after all this time she could still affect him so.
His tongue tangled with hers, rasping over the smooth surface of her teeth to dip into the recesses of her mouth as if mimicking what his very male body had done repeatedly to her in the past.
Her body remembered with a heady rush of recognition, the blood flying through her veins as if in search of his touch on her skin. His mouth burned on hers, sending flames of desire to every secret place as if he were spreading a flammable liquid inside and over her. She erupted in a storm of need that could not be banked down no matter how hard she tried to contain it. She could feel the pull of desire like an irresistible lure being held in front of her.
Nothing had prepared her for this conflagration of her senses. She was beyond thinking with his mouth on hers. She needed his touch, needed his need of her to remind her of all they had shared in the past, to remind her of what her life had once been when she’d been secure in his arms.
His mouth lifted off hers and although he didn’t say a word his intimate question hung in the air between them all the same. She saw it reflected in his gaze as it secured hers, the silent message of desire being transmitted in crackling sparks that threatened to scorch her very soul.
She answered with her mouth as it returned to his, her arms going around his waist so her hands could dip to his buttocks and draw his heat even closer to her burning need.
He lifted her in his arms with his mouth still locked to hers and carried her to the bedroom, only breaking his kiss to put her down on the mattress. She watched as he removed his clothes with impatient hands, her own desire for him growing as every part of his leanly muscled body was revealed to her ravenous eyes.
He joined her on the bed and within the space of a few breathless seconds her clothes had joined his on the floor. The slide of his skin on hers was like a drug; she wanted him so much she could barely breathe without pain.
She refused to think about tomorrow and how she would feel after this brief encounter. She wanted him with a desperation she hadn’t realised had been lurking silently inside her. Her inner emptiness began to ache with the need to be filled, and, when his hair-roughened thighs bound hers on either side in a muscled embrace, any last-minute chance of self-control finally slipped out of her grasp.