Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

Big-Shot Bachelor (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

KATE HARDY lives on the outskirts of Norwich, with her husband, two small children, a dog—and too many books to count! She wrote her first book at age six, when her parents gave her a typewriter for her birthday.

She had the first of a series of sexy romances published at twenty-five, and swapped a job in marketing communications for freelance health journalism when her son was born, so she could spend more time with him. She’s wanted to write for Mills & Boon since she was twelve, and when she was pregnant with her daughter, her husband pointed out that writing medical romances would be the perfect way to combine her interest in health issues with her love of good stories.

Kate is always delighted to hear from readers—do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com.

For Chrissy and Rich—the best aunt and uncle in the world—with love

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_eec24923-7390-50db-aed0-1057f97e734c)

‘RUN that by me again.’ No way could Isobel have heard him correctly. She was used to Alex asking if he could sleep on her sofa while he was in London between digs or on a flying visit—his own flat in London was let out to tenants—but this request …

She must’ve been hearing things.

‘Will you marry me?’ Alex repeated.

Exactly what Isobel thought he’d said.

Was this some kind of joke?

Unlikely, because he looked serious. Besides, Alex didn’t make that kind of joke. She frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Have you gone temporarily insane, or something?’

‘No. I just need to get married. And I think you’d be the perfect wife.’

Oh, no, she wouldn’t. She’d already failed spectacularly with Gary. ‘You get women posting their knickers to you. You could get married to any woman you wanted.’

He laughed. ‘They don’t post their knickers to me, Bel. That’s a vicious rumour started by Saskia.’

Saskia was Alex’s baby sister and had been Isobel’s best friend since they were toddlers. Though Isobel wasn’t so sure the comment was just sibling teasing. ‘I know for a fact you get asked out by more women than most men even dream about.’

‘Women who fantasise about The Hunter—not about me.’

‘You’re one and the same, in their eyes.’ In hers, too: Alex had presented three series of a popular television archaeology programme, based on a series of articles he’d written for a leading Sunday newspaper, and when Isobel had curled up to watch the programmes she’d thought he came across just as he was in real life. Clever and extremely well read, but with a bit of flamboyance that had women dropping at his feet and the kind of easy charm that meant he made friends effortlessly and couldn’t go anywhere without half a dozen people hailing him by name. It had been like that even before he’d been catapulted to fame as ‘The Hunter’, an explorer who delved in ancient places and found treasure; but nowadays, with national television exposure, he was recognised by people he’d never even met.

‘Just let it slip to one of your gossip-column friends that you’re looking for a wife and there’ll be queues for miles,’ she suggested.

‘Gossip-column journos aren’t anybody’s friends except their own,’ he corrected. ‘And none of those women would be like you—sensible and settled.’

She coughed. ‘You’re digging yourself deeper into that hole, Alex.’ He wanted to marry her because she was sensible? Give her a break. That wasn’t why people got married.

Then again, marrying for love hadn’t exactly worked for her, had it? Her marriage hadn’t survived its final crisis.

‘Why do you need to get married anyway?’ she asked.

‘Because I need to get a job.’

‘This is beginning to feel like Alice Through the Looking Glass. The harder I try to understand this, the weirder it seems.’ She shook her head. ‘Apart from the fact that you don’t need to get married to get a job, why do you even need a job in the first place? You’re loaded.’

Alex waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s got nothing to do with money.’

‘So what, then?’

‘It’s complicated,’ he hedged.

She leaned back against the sofa. ‘You’re not getting out of it that easily, Alex. Explain. Why do you need to get married?’

‘Because of this job. It’s perfect, Bel—Chief Archaeological Consultant for a firm that works with all the big property developers. When the developers plan to build on a site and discover remains of some structure they hadn’t even known existed, or we already know there are remains in the area that need to be conserved or recorded before any development work can start, I’d be in charge of a team of archaeologists who’d excavate the site.’

‘A desk job, you mean?’ She shook her head, scoffing. ‘No way. You’d last five minutes before you came down with a case of terminal boredom.’

‘It’s not a desk job. I’ll be doing the initial site visits and setting up the exploration, liaising with planning officers and talking people into giving us more time than they really want to for excavation work. Plus I’d be talking to the press, explaining the significance of the find.’