Look-Alike Fiancee

Look-Alike Fiancee
Elizabeth Duke

His choice of wife…Taryn had no doubts that when Mike O'Malley looked at her, he was seeing another woman: the mysterious, beautiful Crystal–his former fiancée, who'd broken his heart. Everyone said Taryn was the spitting image of her….Was that the reason Mike was taking such a personal interest in Taryn? He claimed he wasn't interested in marrying anyone–but there was no denying the powerful attraction between them. Could it be that, despite his claims, Mike had marriage on his mind–and, if so, would he ever look into Taryn's eyes and see only her?"Ms. Duke captivates readers with…intense passion, a strong emotional conflict and endearing characters."–Romantic Times

“You’re visiting me without your wife? (#u73864158-0b67-521c-a7c2-e303340db346)About the Author (#u5c4cd0cc-db28-5cb4-a11e-85f0a2e70353)Title Page (#uef3e2662-3fb1-5879-a0fb-051b8badfe9a)Dedication (#u6818bfea-36ab-5aa5-b258-3efffa8b7c32)Acknowledgments (#uaaa4cbbe-7f88-5ff5-851c-a19129ee4dc9)CHAPTER ONE (#u84b04157-a32a-5585-b578-465eebdfcc4a)CHAPTER TWO (#uf8947ea6-2d0a-5032-877f-0abf512953bd)CHAPTER THREE (#u460888dc-6976-55e4-8a8b-a3346c7c10f4)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)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You’re visiting me without your wife?

“Assuming,” Taryn continued, “that you’ve tied the knot since you’ve been away?”

Was it possible Mike had finally stopped carrying a torch for his ex-fiancée, the irresistible Crystal, and married someone else? Or was he still a free man?

He gave a short laugh. “Marriage isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

Taryn felt inexplicably buoyed all of a sudden. Because he hadn’t married anyone? Why should that buoy her? He’d be the last man in the world she’d ever want as a husband. She’d never be able to trust him!

And she’d be the last woman he’d ever want, if his jibes in the past were anything to go by....

Elizabeth Duke was born in Adelaide, South Australia, but has lived in Melbourne all her married life. She trained as a librarian and has worked in many different types of libraries, but she was always secretly writing. Her first published book was a children’s novel, after which she successfully tried her hand at romance writing. She has since given up her work as a librarian to write romance full-time. When she isn’t writing or reading, she loves to travel with her husband, John, either within Australia or overseas, gathering inspiration and background material for future romances. She and John have a married son and daughter, who now have children of their own.

Look-Alike-Fiancee

Elizabeth Duke

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

To Bryan

With many thanks for providing the background for this book and for answering my endless questions, as well as offering some brilliant suggestions of your own.

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS wonderfully cool and peaceful in the pine forest. The only sounds were the clear flute-like calls of the bellbirds and the swish of dry pine needles beneath Ginger’s hooves. Taryn sat back in the saddle with a contented sigh, letting her fingers relax on the reins.

It was a mistake.

A kangaroo hopped out of the pines, causing Ginger to rear in fright. It happened so abruptly, so unexpectedly that it was too late for Taryn to grab hold of the reins, too late to save herself. She was already hurtling backward out of the saddle.

She landed flat on her back in a cushion of prickly pine needles.

For a second she lay with her eyes closed, trying to gather her scattered wits. She’d suffered no injury, she was sure of it. Nothing hurt. Nothing was broken. And yet...

Why did she have the feeling that she was floating...drifting away on a cloud of euphoria...dreaming a beautiful dream? Dreaming that firm, warm lips were pressing against hers...tasting...lingering...relishing...

Her eyes fluttered open.

She was dreaming. Or, if not dreaming, drowning. Drowning in a tropical blue-green sea, stabbed with pinpricks of gold.

‘Well...it worked,’ said a deep velvet-soft voice.

Her lips parted, her eyes slowly focusing on the deeply bronzed face above her. She must be dreaming. Or else she’d died and gone to heaven. Could any mortal male be this good-looking? Firm-jawed, straight-nosed, suntanned... a very masculine face, full of strength and character. And breath-stopping sex appeal.

And those eyes! She felt herself drowning in them all over again, swallowed in a swirl of turquoise and jade.

‘What worked?’ Her lips formed the question, barely more than a husky whisper. He’d woven some kind of magic spell...was that what he meant?

‘Kissing you awake. It worked for Sleeping Beauty. I thought it might work for you.’ He brushed her hair away from her face, before idly winding a glossy black strand round his finger.

She blushed. Which was a first. Taryn Conway, blushing.

The realisation that she was passively lying on the ground blushing—reacting to a man she didn’t even know, a man who shouldn’t even be there—shattered the spell.

The dream disintegrated. She wriggled away and sat up abruptly, jerking her hair from his fingers.

‘Who are you?’ She assumed her most withering tone. Not just to cover her blushes, but to cover the stark awareness that she was alone in a shadowy, deserted forest, deep in Victoria’s Strzelecki Ranges, with a complete stranger. What was he doing, skulking around in a privately owned forest, jumping out at people?

‘I might ask you the same question.’ He leaned back on his haunches, his glinting aqua eyes steady on hers. He was wearing faded jeans stretched tight over solid thighs, heavy leather boots, and a blue bush shirt with rolled-up sleeves, slashed open at the front. She averted her eyes from the skin-prickling glimpse of deeply tanned flesh and hard muscle.

‘You do realise you’re trespassing?’ She bravely eye-balled him, hoping her crisp, quelling tone would have its usual effect. She’d used it a hundred times before to crush men who deserved to be crushed. Men who were only attracted to her, she suspected, because of her family name and her father’s wealth.

He lifted a dark, taunting eyebrow. No sign of any crumbling in this man. She was the one who had to steel herself against the impact of those startling eyes. Not that she showed any reaction...not by so much as a flicker.

Now that they were at eye-level, a metre or so apart—she was still sitting, her hands curled round knees drawn up defensively in front of her—she had the chance to examine him more closely. More clinically. If it was possible to be clinical about a man with eyes that could stop a girl’s heartbeat.

She noted the powerful shoulders, the strong brown arms, the way his dark hair fell in unruly waves over his brow and ears—he was in dire need of both a comb and a haircut—and the hint of raw strength in the man’s well-muscled, super-fit frame.

She felt her heart give a disconcerting jump, and wasn’t sure if it was a flutter of fear—or admiration. At arm’s length he looked tougher, rougher, more dangerous...the blue-green eyes appearing sharper, bolder, more unnerving...nowhere near as mesmerising or as dreamlike as they’d been up close. The thick eyebrows seemed even thicker and fiercer, and there was a steely ruggedness about the stranger’s strong jaw that suggested he would be a formidable foe in any fight.

What hope would she have against him? She might be able to handle a horse—although she had doubts about even that after her ignominious tumble a moment ago—but she had grave misgivings about her hopes of fighting off this man in a struggle.

She felt her bones dissolving at the thought of him overpowering her. But it wasn’t so much fear making her weak as a devilish, heart-racing excitement...the kind of excitement she felt when she urged her mount towards a seemingly impossible jump...the thrill of facing a danger that was truly challenging, and worth facing.

It was a feeling new to her. Dangerously new.

‘Trespassing?’ he repeated, his tone more sardonic, she noted edgily, than defensive. ‘I’ve been riding up in this forest for years, and this is the first time anyone’s accused me of trespassing.’

‘Riding?’ she echoed, glancing round. ‘I don’t see your horse anywhere.’ Even Ginger had deserted her, she realised in alarm. Where was he? Not that Fernlea was all that far away. She could always walk back if necessary. If this wild-haired stranger gave her the chance...

A shivery sensation brushed down her spine.

‘I left Caesar in the orchard. You do know about the orchard?’ he enquired coolly.

She lifted her chin, feeling her control slipping and this brazen trespasser gaining the upper hand. What did he mean, he’d been riding up here for years? Not in the past year he hadn’t. Who was he?

‘I know there’s an old fruit orchard in the forest—yes.’ She scrambled to her feet, deciding she was at a disadvantage sitting on the ground. ‘What were you doing there? Stealing fruit?’

‘Stealing fruit?’ Scorn spiked his voice as he rose to his feet too, causing her to step back, her hand fluttering to her throat ‘I’ve been picking fruit up here for as long as I’ve been riding up here. The powers-that-be at the paper company don’t mind. They’re happy for the residents around here to keep an eye on the forest and help maintain the fire breaks. If they weren’t, they’d have fenced it all off.’

‘The residents?’ she echoed weakly, feeling doubly weak now that he was towering over her. She took another step back, assuming her quelling tone again to bite out, ‘You don’t live around here!’ She’d met all the locals who did. ‘Do you?’ she added uncertainly, noting the mocking curve of his lips.