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Get ready to be swept off your feet by perfect English gentlemen!
Harlequin Romance® brings you another fabulous, heartwarming read by bestselling author
JESSICA STEELE
Jessica’s classic love stories will whisk you into a world of pure romantic excitement.
Jessica Steele is a much-loved author of over eighty novels.
Praise for some of Jessica’s books:
“Jessica Steele pens an unforgettable tale filled with vivid, lively characters, fabulous dialogue and a touching conflict.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
“A Professional Marriage is a book to sit back and enjoy on the days that you want to bring joy to your heart and a smile to your face. It is a definite feel-good book.”
—www.writersunlimited.com
“Jessica Steele pens a lovely romance…with brilliant characters, charming scenes and an endearing premise.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
Promise of a Family
Jessica Steele
MILLS & BOON
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Jessica Steele lives in the county of Worcestershire, with her super husband, Peter, and their gorgeous Staffordshire bull terrier, Florence. Any spare time is spent enjoying her three main hobbies: reading espionage novels, gardening (she has a great love of flowers) and playing golf. Any time left over is celebrated with her fourth hobby, shopping. Jessica has a sister and two brothers, and they all, with their spouses, often go on golfing holidays together. Having traveled to various places on the globe, researching background for her stories, there are many countries that she would like to revisit. Her most recent trip abroad was to Portugal, where she stayed in a lovely hotel close to her all-time favorite golf course. Jessica had no idea of being a writer, until one day Peter suggested she write a book. So she did. She has now written over eighty novels.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
THEY were in the kitchen of the large, rambling old house when, sensing her niece’s eyes on her—her half-niece, to be exact—Leyne looked up from the school uniform shirt she was ironing.
‘What?’ she asked, looking into Pip’s direct gaze.
Pip stared at her for a few more seconds and then, reddening slightly, said in a rush, ‘Leyne—do you know who my father is?’
The question was so totally unexpected that Leyne felt winded by it and was not sure that her jaw did not drop a fraction. Pip had never shown any curiosity about her father before, and now of all times, with her mother out of the country, was not the best time for her to start asking questions on that subject.
‘Er—no, love, I don’t,’ Leyne replied honestly.
‘Mmm.’ Pip accepted her answer and went on to ask a question in connection with the history project she was working on and needed for school in the morning.
Leyne hoped that the question of who Pip’s father was had been an idle, throw-away kind of question. But as she lay in her bed that night she could not get out of her mind that direct look of her half-sister’s eleven-and-a-half-year-old daughter.
In the normal way of things, and Leyne admitted she was biased, Pip was the most loveable and amenable child. But occasionally, only very occasionally, she would get that direct look in her gorgeous green eyes. Direct as well as stubborn, if she did not know the answer to why, or who, or whatever, she would chip away until she did have the answer she wanted.
Still hoping that her niece’s question the previous evening had been an idle one, Leyne dropped her and her friend Alice off at their school the next morning. From there she drove to her job as assistant management accountant, with her head in a jumble of thoughts.
Maxine, Pip’s mother, had gone off on an extended working trip less than a week ago. ‘Are you sure you’ll be able to cope?’ Max had only yesterday insisted when she had phoned from the airport in Madrid.
Max had at first decided against taking up the fantastic chance to accompany Ben Turnbull, one of the world’s leading photographers, when, recovering from a motor accident, he’d had to face the unpalatable fact that he would either have to take an assistant or cancel the six-month-long trip. But apparently there was no way he was prepared to cancel all his preparations, even if he had to take two assistants.
Max, given the set-backs that went with being a single parent, was, at thirty-five, something of a photographer in her own right, and her name must have reached the great Ben Turnbull’s ears. Because it was quite out of the blue that a letter had arrived addressed to Max Nicholson. And, her work speaking
