A Secret Worth Keeping?. Robyn Donald

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A Secret Worth Keeping? - Robyn Donald Mills & Boon By Request

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love you’re talking about isn’t on my radar, Miller.’

      ‘Ever?’

      ‘Let’s just say I’ll never marry while I’m racing, and I’ve yet to meet a woman who excites me enough to make me give it up.’ His flat tone had turned grim. ‘Love is painful. When you lose someone...’ He’d stopped, collected himself. ‘I won’t do that to another person.’

      Another person or himself? Miller wondered now, sensing that part of his emotional aloofness was just a way of protecting himself from pain. His words hovered heavily in her mind, almost like a warning.

      Determined the best thing she could do for herself was to forget the whole afternoon, Miller sipped at TJ’s finest vintage champagne and focused on the tiny bubbles of heaven that spilled across her tongue.

      ‘What did you say?’ Valentino’s low voice caused the champagne bubbles to disperse to other parts of her body and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her mouth.

      ‘I didn’t say anything.’

      ‘You...’ His gaze lifted to her eyes. ‘You murmured something.’

      Miller’s mouth went dry and she was more determined than ever to crush the physical effect he had on her. ‘Just remember that tonight I need you to be totally circumspect and professional. Discreet.’

      What she was really saying was that she didn’t want him to touch her, and he knew it.

      ‘Like the other patsies you date?’

      ‘I do not date patsies,’ she said, wondering how it was that he managed to push all her buttons so easily.

      ‘Sure you do. You date men who are learned, PC at all times, and...controllable.’

      His assessment annoyed her all the more because she knew if she did date she’d look for someone just like that—except for the controllable bit. You didn’t have to control nice men.

      ‘While you hunt out blondes with big breasts and an IQ that wouldn’t challenge a glowworm,’ she replied sweetly.

      He paused, and Miller was just congratulating herself on getting the last word in when he said, ‘She doesn’t have to be blonde.’

      His slow smile was a signal for her to back off before she got sucked under again.

      ‘And anything more—’

      ‘Don’t say it,’ she admonished peevishly. ‘I’ll only be disappointed.’

      His soft laugh confirmed that he knew he had the upper hand, and Miller determinedly faced the crowded room, searching for any distraction. She heard Valentino let out a long, slow breath and wondered if he was annoyed with her.

      ‘How about we call a truce, Miller?’

      ‘A truce?’

      ‘Yeah. And I don’t mean the kind of pact the settlers made with the aborigines before marching them off the edge of a cliff. I mean a proper one. Friends?’

      Friends? He wanted to be friends and she couldn’t stop thinking about sex. Great.

      She took another fortifying gulp of champagne and could have been drinking his motor oil for all the pleasure it now gave her. ‘Sure.’

      ‘Good.’

      God, this was awful, and he hadn’t called her Sunshine in hours. What was wrong with her?

      Miller was saved from the tumultuous nature of her thoughts when TJ, his barrel chest bedecked in a white tuxedo jacket, approached.

      ‘Miller. You look lovely tonight.’

      Miller’s smile was tight. She didn’t look lovely at all. She looked boring in her long sleeved black blouse and matching suit pants. She hadn’t brought a single provocative item of clothing this weekend because she had no wish to encourage TJ’s attention. And possibly because she didn’t actually own anything remotely provocative. It had been a long time since she had spent money on clothing for anything other than work or exercise.

      ‘Thank you.’ She responded to the comment as she was expected to and, with civilities attended to, TJ turned to Valentino—the latest object of his fickle affections.

      ‘Maverick. I have someone who’s been dying to meet you.’

      Miller tried to smile as the famous supermodel Janelle, clothed in a clinging nude-coloured chiffon creation, stepped out from behind TJ and extended her elegant hand.

      A sort of mini-dramatic entrance, Miller thought sourly. Which was a little unfair, because by all accounts the model was not only considered the most beautiful woman on the planet, but the nicest as well. And she looked sweetly nervous as Valentino’s large hand engulfed hers.

      ‘Mr Ventura...’

      Janelle’s awed exhalation promised sexual antics in the bedroom Miller had only ever fantasised about—and with the man now staring at the supermodel no less.

      ‘This is Janelle,’ TJ continued. ‘Latest sensation to hit the New York runways. But I don’t have to tell you that. You probably have her photo up on your garage wall.’ He guffawed at his own tasteless humour and then seemed to remember his audience. ‘No disrespect, Miller.’

      ‘None taken,’ Miller lied smoothly. Because what she really wanted to say would jeopardise everything she had worked so hard for.

      She felt Valentino tense beside her and wondered if he wasn’t experiencing some sort of extreme physical reaction to the beautiful blonde. Every other man in the room seemed to be.

      ‘Janelle.’ Valentino smiled and slowly released her hand.

      God, they looked perfect together. Her blonde to his dark.

      Feeling like a poor cousin next to the stunning model Miller excused herself and left the men to ogle Janelle alone. No need to be a glutton for punishment.

      She’d veered off from her decoy destination of the bathroom and made it to the glass bi-fold doors leading outside when Dexter appeared at her side.

      ‘You know, Dexter, I don’t know if I can go another round with you,’ Miller said with bald honesty.

      It was another balmy, star-filled night and she just wanted fresh air and peace.

      He had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘I read some of the ideas you put down this afternoon. They’re good.’

      She raised an eyebrow. ‘The only thing bothering me with that comment is that you seem to have expected something less.’

      He tugged at the collar on his shirt. ‘Can we talk?’

      Resignation settled like a brick in her stomach and she extended her hand towards the deck. Might as well fulfil the fresh air component of her plan at least.

      ‘By all means.’

      Dexter

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