A Christmas Seduction

A Christmas Seduction
AMANDA BROWNING

The millionaire…Being forced to spend Christmas with his godfather's mistress was not Quinn Mannion's idea of fun. Laura Maclane might be beautiful, but Quinn had no doubt she was a heartless gold digger. Why else would his godfather have left money to an attractive younger woman? … and the mistress Laura had never wanted money - she'd just wanted to get to know her father.Unfortunately, now that he was dead, who would believe she was his daughter? Certainly not Quinn. Infuriated, Laura decided to play up to his expectations of her - and soon Quinn wanted her as his mistress… .

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#ua81957d1-d804-59f3-9df0-5dbce700a610)

Excerpt (#u73e70ffb-dd76-5ae7-b3f2-4aa378319e08)

About the Author (#u11d839bb-4e7e-5480-add2-62d6a40969b9)

Title Page (#u03b4506f-b833-5f31-b62a-4538c92921d9)

CHAPTER ONE (#u3c21cf36-a719-5715-9f59-2321d5d1630c)

CHAPTER TWO (#uf9224736-70f5-5128-b640-cc7311e48eaf)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“Do you expect an apology?”

He was so blatant in his judgment, she had to laugh. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Quinn nodded and smiled to himself, then took her completely by surprise. One long-fingered hand reached out to cup her chin. Her eyes widened as danger signals went off in her head, urging her to move.

But he outmaneuvered her, and instead of brushing his hand away, her fingers closed about his wrist and held on as a delicious, tingling warmth began to expand from the spot. Her brain seemed to grow sluggish, and her eyelids grew so heavy, it took all her energy to stop them from closing. They fluttered. “You’re very good,” he said quietly, and it took a second or two for his meaning to sink in.

Discovering a talent for acting she had previously been unaware of, Laura pulled away. “If you aren’t going to buy, don’t touch the merchandise!”

AMANDA BROWNING still lives in the Essex house where she was born. The third daughter of four children—her sister being her twin—she enjoyed the rough-and-tumble of life with two brothers as much as she did reading books. Writing came naturally as an outlet for a fertile imagination. The love of books led her to a career in libraries, and being single allowed her to take the leap into writing for a living. Success is still something of a wonder, but allows her to indulge in hobbies as varied as embroidery and birdwatching.

A Christmas Seduction

Amanda Browning

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_4a02d4ce-541f-5548-9099-cfdaa55ac56a)

From the moment Laura Maclane met Quinn Mannion, a state of war would exist between them. Not that she knew it that rain-lashed Friday night, as she paid off the taxi and made a dash for the door of the building where Jonathan Ames had his law practice. Jonathan had been Alexander Harrington’s lawyer and was the only living soul, apart from herself, who knew about his relationship with her mother, and her own relationship to him. The world at large was still speculating about it but, as yet, nobody had come close to the truth, which was that she was Alexander Harrington’s natural daughter.

Laura had never known her father’s name. She had had no idea who he was until her mother had died of cancer, leaving instructions that Laura was to inform Alexander Harrington of her death. He had realised at once who she was, but his quite understandable shock had quickly been surpassed by his obvious pleasure. It had been Laura herself who had doubted his claim to parentage, but a blood test had proved he was right. She had the same rare blood group as himself. She was his daughter.

She had known very little about the affair which had brought about her existence. Her mother had never revealed any details. From Alexander she had learned that he and her mother had met at university and fallen in love. They had lived together for a while, but then Alexander’s father had died and he had had to return home. There had been problems, and one thing had led to another. He never did go back, and had never seen her mother again. She, for whatever reason, had kept her pregnancy to herself. He had married and raised a family, never knowing he had another child.

Blame was not something Alexander had cared to apportion. He had accepted that he had treated her mother badly, and that withholding knowledge of his child had been her revenge. Fault lay on both sides, but it was in the past. He knew about his daughter now, and he was determined to make up for lost time.

They had spent as much time as they could together over the next few months, getting to know each other. Alexander’s wealth and position in life had taken some getting used to, but not for a second had she been envious of it. If she envied anything at all, it was the family she did not know. She had never pushed him to introduce her to her half-brother and sister, though she longed to meet them. Being an only child had been very lonely at times. Alexander, however, had been determined that she should become part of the family one day. The difficulty was telling his wife. She was unaware of her husband’s brief affair almost thirty years ago. It was bound to come as a shock, and he wanted to minimise it because Maxine Harrington had a serious heart problem. He would have to pick his time carefully.

Until then they had tried to be discreet, but somehow the ever vigilant press had found out about their meetings. The next thing Laura had known, her picture had appeared in the society gossip columns above a caption asking who was this woman who was constantly seen with the wealthy financier Alexander Harrington? Speculation had been rife. Knowing it would only be a matter of time before somebody actually claimed they must be lovers, Alexander had decided he must act. However, before he had been able to put the facts right, he had suffered a massive stroke from which he’d never recovered. He had died a few days later, at the age of fifty-one.

That might have been the end of it, except for Alexander’s will. Laura had been astounded to discover that he had left her a very great deal of money. When the press got hold of that little snippet, she had been described in various unkind ways, not the least of which was gold-digger. As if she had somehow known he was going to die so suddenly! Sadly, she had accepted it was impossible to put the matter right, at least in the eyes of the press and society. For one thing, nobody would accept a denial at this late stage. For another, she had promised Alexander she would say nothing of their true relationship until he had broken it to his family.

Stymied, that was how things stood several months later. She still secretly hoped to be able to meet her family one day. She just didn’t know how to bring it about.

To this day, only Jonathan knew the truth. Because of it, she considered him her best friend. Sometimes it seemed he was her only friend, she thought wryly, brushing droplets of rain off her coat before stepping into the building.

At this time of night the foyer was quiet, and she headed for the bank of elevators to the echoing sound of her own footsteps. She stepped into the nearest and pressed the button for the third floor. The system was old and cranky and progress was slow, and Laura used the time to take a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror, to check for any damage the rain might have caused. There was very little.

Her blonde hair curled under in a shining bob to just below her ears. It made her heart-shaped face appear all the more fragile. Her grey eyes, with their long lashes, stared back at her doe-like, whilst her surprisingly full mouth was curved in a faint smile. Beneath her woollen coat, the soft curves of her body and the length of her legs were shown to perfection by the lines of her black cocktail dress and stiletto shoes.

She looked good for a twenty-eight-year-old interior designer, she decided, and instantly pulled a wry face. As she had overheard one doyenne of society say only recently, what woman wouldn’t, given a fortune to spend in only the best stores?

It was a pretty universal assumption. Any money she had must have come from her ‘liaison’. Society matrons ignored the fact that she and her friend Anya Kovacs ran a successful interior design business, which they patronised. In the beginning Laura had feared the worst for their combined welfare but, far from slumping through the supposed scandal, business had boomed. The reason had soon become clear; everyone had hoped to be able to glean some titbit of gossip from her. They had been unlucky. Laura had gritted her teeth and refused to utter a word. Some custom had eventually fallen off, but not to the extent she had expected. What clientele remained was loyal because they produced good work.

The elevator came to a stop and, stepping out of it, she turned left towards Jonathan’s office. Light glowed beneath the door and she sighed. He was brilliant at his job but, when he was working on a case, he had a head like a sieve about more mundane things. For instance, tonight he was supposed to have picked her up an hour ago for the opening of a new art exhibition, and then they were to have gone on to dinner. She really should have phoned him earlier, but she had assumed he would remember. More fool her.

Pushing open the door, she discovered Jonathan exactly where she expected, bent over his desk, lost in the depths of a file. His brown hair was endearingly tousled, as if he had raked it constantly, and a cup of cold coffee sat by his elbow with a dehydrated jelly doughnut.

‘I thought I’d find you here!’ Laura exclaimed wryly, and he looked up with a start.

‘Laura? What on earth.?’ Jonathan gasped in surprise, then his eyes made a quick inspection of her and she saw light Dawn. Clapping a hand to his head, he rose to his feet and came round the desk to her, his expression ruefully apologetic. ‘Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. We were supposed to be going to the opening, weren’t we?’ He kissed her cheek and Laura sighed.

‘We were,’ she confirmed as she raised her hand to brush his hair off his forehead. ‘Honestly, you’re hopeless. What happened this time?’

‘I’m afraid I happened.’ A strange voice, rich and slightly husky, broke into their conversation, and it was her turn to jump. She turned towards the voice, but its owner stood in the doorway of Jonathan’s private washroom, and the light coming from behind made him little more than a large silhouette.

‘Who are you?’ she asked more sharply than she intended, and behind her Jonathan shifted uneasily.

‘Oh, hell, it had to happen some time, I guess,’ he said heavily, and made the introduction. ‘This is Quinn.’

Laura went absolutely still, ‘Did you say Quinn?’ she asked, though she had heard well enough.