Craving Jamie

Craving Jamie
Emma Darcy

Who was she? She stood out from the crowd, and Jim Neilson, his sexual curiosity piqued, was drawn to her side. The air sizzled between them. Who was he? Did Jim still carry traces of the young Jamie she had known and loved as they had grown up together in the valley? Beth Delaney sensed a man who had distanced himself from all emotion.She craved more than a physical union with this seductive man even though he had obviously forgotten their childhood bond. If she could reach the vulnerable boy inside, might the Jamie she remembered reappear? Or was one night in Jim's arms all she could hope for?Emma Darcy, with more than 60 million books in print, is one of the world's favorite romance authors.

“Who are you?” he demanded (#u7f205ede-82bb-596d-8535-a9b5e2656cd3)About the Author (#u855c603c-192e-55b4-bcad-da1aa172856c)Title Page (#u8a6d73cf-f546-537f-a366-60eb53a2ca01)CHAPTER ONE (#u98f06548-99e0-5a77-bf0d-8a74103fc94e)CHAPTER TWO (#uc610f100-4b3a-5d87-a962-d80c0c0de575)CHAPTER THREE (#u78bc3556-3e54-5cd8-9980-11fb99820253)CHAPTER FOUR (#u20e2c04b-b01b-5181-ae68-442fc4c4d1a3)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)CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“Who are you?” he demanded

The urge to hit him in the face with it was strong. “I’m Beth Delaney,” she shot at him. It gave Beth savage satisfaction to see he hadn’t completely forgotten her. “I came looking for Jamie.”

His chin jutted. A muscle in his cheek flinched.

“He once said he would come to me when he could. He never did. Last night I had the chance to look him up. But Jamie was gone. I only found Jim Neilson.”

His mouth thinned into a grim line.

“Now it’s time for Beth Delaney to go, too,” she said with bleak finality. “There’s nothing left of what there once was.”

She turned away. There was nothing to hold her here. No doubt Jim Neilson would only feel intense relief at seeing her go, a ghost from the past he didn’t want to remember.

“Wait.”

The snapped command fell like a whiplash across her shoulders.

EMMA DARCY

nearly became an actress, until her fiancé declared he preferred to attend the theater with her. She became a wife and mother. Later, she took up oil painting—unsuccessfully, she remarks. Then she tried architecture, designing the family home in New South Wales, Australia. Next came romance writing—“the hardest and most challenging of all the activities,” she confesses.

Craving Jamie

Emma Darcy

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

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

CHAPTER ONE

SHE wore yellow.

It was the colour that first drew Jim Neilson’s eye. A daffodil amongst black orchids, he thought whimsically. Women in the arty crowd always seemed to wear black—leather, satin, silk, slinky knits—dressed up with gold chains or exotic costume jewellery. It was like a uniform that said, “I fit in. I belong to this smart, classy world.” The gallery was full of them, come to see or be seen at the preview of Paul Howard’s exhibition.

Jim wore black, too—silk shirt, designer jeans, casual leather jacket, Italian shoes. He quite enjoyed the illusion of fitting in, even while knowing he didn’t and never would. The sense of apartness never left him, no matter how high he climbed on the various ladders he’d chosen. In this milieu he had a well-earned reputation as an art collector. His opinion was respected, his favour sought. But that didn’t make him fit. It simply meant he had money to spend.

The woman in yellow intrigued him. She obviously didn’t mind standing out, being different. Not many people could wear that particular colour successfully. It either sallowed the skin or was too dominant, washing out the person. On her, it looked stunning. Just a simple linen suit with clean, classic lines.

She carried herself like a model, tall, slim, shoulders straight to maximise the striking curves of her figure, a long neck to support the thick fall of silky caramel hair that dropped to below her shoulders. Her face had an appealing, natural look, the golden tan of her smooth skin shining with vitality rather than matted with make-up. Bright eyes, a lush mouth and a straight, aristocratic nose.

Quite a honey, Jim thought, sexual interest aroused. His love-life—if it could be called that—could do with a boost. His interest in Alysha had waned even before she flew off for the fashion shows in Europe. He wanted someone new. A woman who excited him.

There were several women here who would jump at the chance of a tumble in bed with Jim Neilson. They didn’t care about the person he was inside, though. Just fancied him. Or what he could offer. He was bored with shallow relationships. He craved something more. A bit of mystery? The spur of a hunt instead of a lay-down gift?

The woman in yellow looked like a bright splash of spring in this crowd of sophisticates. Fresh. Tantalising. Whoever she was, she seemed to be alone, no one closely tagging her. She didn’t speak to anyone, either. His curiosity was more and more piqued as he watched her.

She wasn’t interested in the paintings. Her gaze only skimmed them, no pause for any lengthy assessment of their value or attraction to her personally. She looked at the men in each group she passed, scanning them closely as though anxious not to miss a face. The women were ignored, apparently inconsequential to her.

“Another glass of champagne, Jim?”

Claud Meyer at his elbow, oiling his way to a sale. The owner of the fashionable Woollhara gallery was always an assiduous host to good clients. This cocktail-hour preview would probably result in enough purchases to ensure the exhibition’s success for both artist and entrepreneur. Claud was a good businessman. Jim respected that while seeing straight through the tactics being used.

“Why not? Thank you,” he said, setting his empty glass on the silver tray Claud held and picking up a full one. “Quite a turnout tonight.”

“Popular artist,” was the knowing reply. “See anything you like?”

“Yes.” He nodded towards her. “The woman in yellow.”

Claud’s surprise was quickly swallowed into a good-humoured chuckle. “I meant the landscapes on show.”

“The guy has talent, but there’s nothing that hits me in the eye and says, ‘Buy me!’”

“He’ll be a good investment,” came the swift persuasion.

“Who is she?”

Claud followed the line of his gaze then looked back, puzzled. “Are you kidding me?”

“You must know who she is, Claud. This preview is by invitation only.”

He frowned. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. She didn’t have an invitation. I let her in because she said she was meeting you.”

Jim’s curiosity took a mega-leap. “How very enterprising of her,” he mused.

“I assumed since you came alone...”

“She was my date?”

Claud shifted uneasily, not enjoying being wrong-footed. “If she lied...”

“No. Let her be, Claud. She will be meeting me.” Jim eyed the gallery owner with a sardonic twinkle. “If she likes one of these landscapes, I might even buy it. Who knows what could eventuate?”

Recognising there was no profit in engaging Jim Neilson in further conversation, Claud smiled and said, “In that case, I hope she pleases both of us.”

“Mind if I take another glass of champagne?”

“Help yourself.”

Claud moved on, doing the rounds of prospective customers. Jim concentrated his attention on the woman in yellow. Had she tossed off his name simply as a ploy to get into the gallery, or was it her intent to meet him? For what purpose? It was an intriguing question.

Was she a gold-digger on the hunt? Ever since he’d been listed as one of the most eligible bachelors in Australia—without his permission—he’d been the target of quite a few novel approaches.