Ruthless Reunion

Ruthless Reunion
Elizabeth Power

When handsome Alex Sabre recognizes her, Sanchia realizes that they must have once known each other intimately. But Sanchia has amnesia–her mind has rejected three years of painful memories. Sanchia knows that to unlock her secret past she must spend time with the rich and ruthless Alex….But Alex won't tell her what she needs to know–or why he's resisting the passionate sensual pull between them. What was he to her? What is he hiding? And what happens when Sanchia learns the truth about the man she's falling in love with…again?

Harlequin Presents never fails to bring you the most gorgeous, brooding alpha heroes—so don’t miss out on this month’s irresistible collection!

When handsome Peter Ramsey discovers Erin’s having his baby in The Billionaire’s Captive Bride by Emma Darcy, he offers her the only thing he can think of to guarantee his child’s security—marriage! In The Greek Tycoon’s Unwilling Wife by Kate Walker, Andreas has lost his memory, but what will happen when he recalls throwing Rebecca out of his house on their wedding day—for reasons only he knows? If you’re feeling festive, you’ll love The Boss’s Christmas Baby by Trish Morey, where a boss discovers his convenient mistress is expecting his baby. In The Spanish Duke’s Vigin Bride by Chantelle Shaw, ruthless Spanish billionaire Duke Javier Herrera sees in Grace an opportunity for revenge and a contract wife! In The Italian’s Pregnant Mistress by Cathy Williams, millionaire Angelo Falcone has Francesca in his power and in his bed, and this time he won’t let her go. In Contracted: A Wife for the Bedroom by Carol Marinelli, Lily knows Hunter’s ring will only be on her finger for twelve months, but soon a year doesn’t seem long enough! Finally, brand-new author Susanne James brings you Jed Hunter’s Reluctant Bride, where Jed demands Cryssie marry him because it makes good business sense, but Cryssie’s feelings run deeper…. Enjoy!

Ruthless Reunion

Elizabeth Power

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

All about the author…

Elizabeth Power

ELIZABETH POWER was born in Bristol, where she still lives with her husband in a three hundred-year-old cottage. A keen reader, as a teenager she had already made up her mind to be a novelist. But it wasn’t until a few weeks before her thirtieth birthday, when Elizabeth was thinking about what she had done with her first thirty years and realized she had been telling herself she would “start writing tomorrow” for at least twelve of them, that she took up writing seriously. A short time later, the letter that was to change her life arrived from Harlequin. Rude Awakening was to be published in 1986. After a prolonged absence, Elizabeth is pleased to be back at her keyboard, with new romances already in the works.

Of her writing, Elizabeth says emotional intensity is paramount in her books. She says, “times, places and trends change, but emotion is timeless.” A powerful story line with maximum emotion, set in a location in which you can really live and breathe while the story unfolds, is what she strives for. Good food and wine come high on her list of priorities, and what better way to sample these delights than by just having to take another trip to some new exotic resort. Oh, and of course, to find a location for the next book!

For Alan and the Bermudian Longtail.

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 ONE

IT WAS the face behind the camera that intrigued him most.

In all the years he had been coming to Bermuda Alex had never seen anyone quite like her, and with all the problems he had left back in England—the responsibilities of a family fortune, discrepancies in investments, Luke’s death—his spring break here this year had scarcely appealed. Until now.

The young woman, however, was still intent on capturing the magnificent splendour of the ice sculpture standing near the far wall of the hotel ballroom behind him, and Alex took the opportunity to let his gaze wander, unashamedly and unnoticed, over the rest of this equally magnificent creature.

Tall, slim, in her very early twenties, she was one of the few females at the party tonight not wearing black, which marked her as independent-minded and free-spirited to his way of thinking. The heavy weight of her sleek dark hair—every bit as black as his own—was a striking contrast to the cream chiffon-fine dress that moved fluidly against her body, the long transparent sleeves somehow lending added sensuality to a bodice cut so low he could see where the deep cleavage of her generous breasts ended and the pale flesh of her midriff began.

As his eyes lingered on those full rounded breasts, a hard, basic urge ripped through him, stronger than any he had known in his life.

Reluctantly he forced his gaze down, noticing how the dress hugged her small waist and her smooth hips to whisper around her in a series of concealed splits, so that the barest movement revealed tantalising glimpses of her creamy thighs. The tapered hemline of the dress caressed long legs that finished in fine-strapped silver sandals, the height of the stilettos enhancing already shapely calves and ankles.

Self-assured. Poised. A woman who didn’t mind being noticed. Or one, he thought suddenly—conversely—with his keen, trained mind kicking into gear, who needed to advertise her confidence in order to conceal a distinct lack of any.

But her camera had come to rest on him.

As the sudden flash captured the hard, questioning angles of his face, he saw her mouth open, as though her own audacity had surprised her. Her mouth, like her toes and the scarlet-tipped fingers still holding the small device, was creamy red, a full, sultry mouth that he had the sudden hot and almost unbearable urge to plunder.

Slowly then, she lowered the camera, and Alex felt as if his breath was being dragged through his lungs when he saw that her face matched everything her body promised.

It was the face of an angel—and a siren. Her skin resembled porcelain against the deep sheen of her hair. Her eyebrows were finely arched, her lashes long and dark over seductively slanting eyes.

The sounds of the party going on around him seemed—like the chatting, laughing faces that filled the hotel’s glittering ballroom—superimposed on his brain. For him there was no one else in the room but this sensuous, unsmiling beauty. Nor did he want there to be. He wanted them all to disappear so that he could walk over to her unhampered, get her to acknowledge him—accept him—and do what his primal instincts were urging him to do. Possess her utterly and completely.

He dipped his head in the subtlest acknowledgement. She didn’t turn away, just stood there, as though hypnotised by the same powerful force that held him in thrall. But neither did she smile, and suddenly, in those strikingly amber eyes of hers and through his own private turmoil, he recognised misery of the most devastating kind.

Curiosity, on top of everything else, would have had him abandoning his companions to close the gap between him and this beautiful girl. But then the youth standing next to her touched her arm to gain her attention and she turned abruptly away.

She didn’t want to be here. She hadn’t wanted to come.

After the trauma of the past five weeks Sanchia Stevens couldn’t understand how she had allowed herself to be talked into attending a party to celebrate the expansion of one of the island’s largest hotels—except that Francine and Rick had insisted upon it, had said that it would do her good. But Rick and Francine had already left, under the pretext, she was sure, of Francine having a headache, and she guessed that they thought she had ‘fixed herself up’ with the sycophantic young man who seemed determined to cling to her and had decided to leave her to it.

They didn’t know that she had declined to go with them because she hadn’t wanted to go back to the hotel, didn’t want to be alone—because that meant thinking, and she didn’t want to have to think. Nor did they know that this was supposed to have been her honeymoon. They had naturally assumed she had come on holiday alone, simply looking for a good time, which was why they had been so ready to abandon her. But that had been nearly an hour ago, just as she’d been taking pictures of that swan sculpted out of ice, and the man she had been reckless enough to capture with her camera hadn’t taken his eyes off her since.

His black wavy hair, brushed straight back, was impeccably groomed, like the rest of him, although the immaculate tailoring of his dark suit, white shirt and tie did very little to tame the contours of a body that was honed to disciplined fitness: lean, broad-shouldered, intensely male.

Sitting on one of the high stools that flanked the bar, she could see him still, across the heads of several other guests, talking with the same group of people he had been talking to all night. Serious-minded, important-looking people, from the intensity of their conversation. Dignitaries or government officials? Sanchia speculated, and recognised one from a picture she’d seen hanging in the vestibule as the owner of the hotel. However, where dominance and sheer physical presence played a part, the man who was interesting her most outstripped them all.

His features were strikingly etched, uncompromisingly handsome beneath the rich bronze of a Bermuda tan. But it was that air of authority that drew her eyes unwittingly to him as much as to those darkly aloof features. Instinctively, she knew he would be a formidable opponent, would command respect and inspire awe in whatever game he chose to play.

And he had chosen to play for her.

A little shudder ran through her at that inexplicable acknowledgement, immediately followed by a leap of hard excitement when she saw that his company was now dispersing and he was already striding over to the bar.

‘Hello, I’m Alex.’ His voice was chocolate-rich and deep, that air of authority coupled with the impact of a devastating sexual charisma now that he was up close, making her put her reluctant fingers into the firm, warm clasp of his. ‘And you are?’

Her temperature sky-rocketing, she lifted heavy eyes to a pair that were a steel-hard, penetrating grey. ‘Wishing you’d let go of my hand.’