The Millionaire's Christmas Wish

The Millionaire's Christmas Wish
Shawna Delacorte

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS…When millionaire Chance Fowler first kissed the pretty stranger in his arms, he'd only meant to dodge the photographers who'd trailed him. Then she ran off - but he couldn't forget her tempting taste on his lips. So he sought out the tantalizing woman who'd ignited his long-dormant desire… .Lovely Marcie Roper was the first woman to close her eyes to Chance's fortune. And though she'd captivated the jaded tycoon, Marcie yearned for what his wealth couldn't buy - a man who would say "I do" and mean it forever. Could Marcie convince Chance that love - for the right woman - would last a lifetime?

She was certainly different from the type of women he usually encountered (#u3ceb2634-6ef5-58fb-9e38-5753b8c2c1fe)Letter to Reader (#ua8f4ee60-8d34-58a3-b97a-fe1cd99add67)Title Page (#u0c0f9ecf-1071-56a6-9b16-be15432a098b)About the Author (#ua6584b34-b1e2-5fae-809b-1baf446334c7)Chapter One (#u9ebf9cf0-bea4-5ef6-a7a5-51937570f561)Chapter Two (#u093a3067-aba5-5704-9db3-67d3d2cc8a8e)Chapter Three (#u95f6bb07-c3bd-5360-b3ac-979f7c35c851)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)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

She was certainly different from the type of women he usually encountered

Her eyes sparked with the fire of emotion and her stance declared a very appealing independence. Yes, indeed. Marcie Roper was quite different—a breath of fresh air. He recalled the way she felt in his arms, the taste of her delicious mouth. He fought the almost overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her again.

He watched her walk away from him—for the second time since he first encountered her. She had turned out to be a very intriguing woman. He already knew about the golden flecks in her hazel eyes, her soft pliable lips, her addictive taste and how good she felt in his arms. And now he knew she was certainly a challenge—and Chance had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Dear Reader,

All of us at Silhouette Desire send you our best wishes for a joyful holiday season. December brings six original, deeply touching love stories warm enough to melt your heart!

This month, bestselling author Cait London continues her beloved miniseries THE TALLCHIEFS with the story of MAN OF THE MONTH Nick Palladin in The Perfect Fit. This corporate cowboy’s attempt to escape his family’s matchmaking has him escorting a Tallchief down the aisle. Silhouette Desire welcomes the cross-line continuity FOLLOW THAT BABY to the line with Elizabeth Bevarly’s The Sheriff and the Impostor Bride. And those irresistible bad-boy James brothers return in Cindy Gerard’s Marriage, Outlaw Style, part of the OUTLAW HEARTS miniseries. When a headstrong bachelor and his brassy-but-beautiful childhood rival get stranded, they wind up in a 6lb., 12oz. bundle of trouble!

Talented author Susan Crosby’s third book in THE LONE WOLVES miniseries, His Ultimate Temptation, will entrance you with this hero’s primitive, unyielding desire to protect his once-wife and their willful daughter. A rich playboy sweeps a sensible heroine from her humdrum life in Shawna Delacorte’s Cinderella story, The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish. And Eileen Wilks weaves an emotional, edge-of-your-seat drama about a fierce cop and the delicate lady who poses as his newlywed bride in Just a Little Bit Married?

These poignant, sensuous books fill any Christmas stocking—and every reader’s heart with the glow of holiday romance. Enjoy!

Best regards,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

Shawna Delacorte

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

SHAWNA DELACORTE

has delayed her move to Washington State, staying in the Midwest in order to spend some additional time with family. She still travels as often as time permits and is looking forward to visiting several new places during the upcoming year, while continuing to devote herself to writing full-time.

One

Marcie Roper shifted the weight of her packages and cradled them in her other arm as she stared at the slinky evening gown in the store window, each sequin shimmering an iridescent peacock blue. She allowed an audible sigh of resignation as she glanced down at her faded jeans. It was certainly a beautiful gown, but she would never go any place where such a dress would be appropriate. It was just not the type of life-style she had settled into. She sighed again as she moved along to the next window displaying a red silk cocktail dress. She noted that all the store windows were already decorated for the Christmas holiday season in spite of the fact that Thanksgiving was still a couple of weeks away. A moment of sadness touched her—even though she had friends, it would be another holiday season to be spent alone.

“Hey! Wait a minute!”

The shouted command grabbed her attention. She glanced down the street just in time to see a tall man—in his mid-thirties, she guessed—appear from around the corner. He headed in her direction at an easy, loping gait. His tanned good looks and athletic build were hard to ignore. She stepped closer to the building to clear a path for him.

As he ran toward her, he shrugged out of his red windbreaker, turned it inside out to a charcoal gray color and jammed his arms back in the sleeves. He stole a quick look over his shoulder, then pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket and covered his hair. He turned back toward her and for an instant their gazes locked. Then he came to an abrupt halt.

His sky-blue eyes twinkled with amusement. Her first thought had been that he was in some sort of trouble, but the mischievous grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth told a different story. He reminded her more of a little boy who was about to pull off a prank than of someone being chased by a person or persons unknown.

The tall stranger stared at her for a moment before once again glancing over his shoulder. Apparently satisfied that he was sufficiently ahead of his pursuer, he sidled up beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. He positioned himself so that he faced away from the corner, and extended an engaging smile. It was the type of smile that said, “Trust me,” even though the devilish twinkle in his eyes said something quite different.

“I’d sure appreciate it if you could spare me just a minute or two of your time.”

Chance Fowler tossed a furtive glance over his shoulder just as a short, balding man came huffing and puffing around the corner. The paunchy man had a camera bag slung over his shoulder, one camera suspended from a strap around his neck and another camera in his hand. There was no doubt in Chance’s mind that the man was yet another tabloid photographer in search of candid shots of the heir apparent to the Fowler family fortune and Fowler Industries.

It usually annoyed him, especially if he was involved in one of his personal projects. His upbringing may have been one of wealth and privilege, but that did not make him immune to the plight of the disadvantaged. With his mother’s encouragement he had decided as far back as college that he would give back to society in general what had been handed him simply as his birthright. As far as Chance was concerned, his efforts to provide disadvantaged older youth and high school dropouts with viable work skills and find opportunities for employment was no one’s business but his and the people involved in his training school. He had no desire to put a spotlight on those activities or those he was trying to help.

But every now and then, when he did not have any pressing matters dictating his actions, he liked to make a game of evading the photographers. And today was one of those days.

“Let me go this instant!” Marcie shook off the mesmerizing sound of this stranger’s smooth, dulcet tones and engaging smile. She struggled to escape the arm he had draped around her shoulder in the type of familiar manner that said they were longtime friends.

Chance pulled her closer to him and touched his fingertip to her lips to still her words. “Just as soon as this photographer goes away.”

Marcie glanced toward the camera-laden man. Her initial surge of fear settled as she realized she was not in any physical danger from this stranger, but was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. “I’ll do no such thing! You let go of me immediately or I’ll call for help.” She began to struggle again while trying to maintain a hold on her packages.

The set of the photographer’s jaw and his tight grip on his camera told Marcie of his determination to find his quarry. He looked across the street, into a side alley, then started down the sidewalk toward her and the handsome stranger who continued to hold her within the curve of his arm even though she still struggled to get free.

The stranger quickly enfolded her in a complete embrace. His words tickled across her ear, the hypnotic quality of his voice lulling her into a momentary state of submission. “I was hoping we could just stand here and pretend to be window-shopping together without any fuss, but I guess we’ll have to do it this way instead.” Before Marcie could react, he covered her mouth with his.

The photographer hurried past them without even slowing down. Shockingly aware of the heated sensuality of this stranger’s kiss—a kiss that literally took her breath away and left her weak in the knees—Marcie barely noticed the man as he rushed down the street. She was having trouble collecting her thoughts.

No one had ever kissed her like that before or totally swept her off her feet the way he just had. If it were not for the fact that he had been holding her, her legs surely would have buckled. She fought to gain control of the thousands of butterflies that flitted about inside her stomach and the increased palpitations of her heart.

As soon as the danger passed, Chance started to break off the kiss, but he allowed his lips to linger against hers a second longer before pulling back. He looked into the startled, uncertain eyes of the woman in front of him, holding her gaze trapped within his for what seemed like an eternity. He was not certain what he was seeing, but he knew in an instant that he liked it. He also knew that he wanted more of this tantalizing woman. His gaze drifted across her delicately beautiful features to the lush fullness of her slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to continue to hold her.

He tried to swallow the lump that had lodged in his throat as soon as he had broken off the kiss. He wanted to kick himself for having done something so foolish as to have involved this delectable stranger in one of his little games. It had definitely been a rotten idea. It would have been better for everyone concerned if he had just let the photographer take his picture.

A flustered and embarrassed Marcie quickly stumbled backward a couple of steps. She ran her fingers through her short auburn hair in a nervous attempt to smooth it away from her face as she clutched her packages against her body with her other hand. Her legs still felt wobbly, but not so much so that she could not turn and run away from this very bizarre encounter and this incredibly tempting man.

And run she did, as hard and as fast as her legs would take her. It was almost as if her emotional existence depended on getting as far away from this man as quickly as possible.

“Hey! Wait a minute—”

Marcie dashed down the street, her shoes pounding hard against the pavement with each step. She heard him call after her, but she dared not stop. As soon as she rounded the corner she ducked into a large store. Without pausing to look back, she walked swiftly through the store and out the other side to another street. Only then did she stop and glance back over her shoulder.

As soon as she was convinced that he had not followed her, she leaned back against the building to catch her breath. She juggled her packages, being careful not to spill the contents of one sack that had ripped open.

“Oh, damn!” The words came out loud and clear, her irritation audible for anyone within earshot. Somewhere during her flight from that absurd encounter with that very disconcerting stranger she had lost one of her packages—the one from the bookstore. It contained a special order she had placed two weeks ago. Three of the books were hers, but the fourth was a large volume about the Civil War that she had ordered as a birthday present for her father.

And now it was lost before she could even get it to the post office. She clenched her jaw in anger. It was all his fault. She had been minding her own business, doing a little window-shopping while making her way back to her car, when he had accosted her.