The Tycoon's Blackmailed Mistress. Maxine Sullivan

      One

      “We meet at last, Mrs. Ford,” Flynn Donovan drawled, looking into a pair of heart-stopping, exquisitely arresting blue eyes. In that instant, he wanted her. With a passion as absurd as it was unexpected.

      For a moment the woman appeared startled, then whatever she saw made her delicate chin rise and her delicious mouth tighten. “I’m sorry to disturb you…” she said coolly.

      Disturb him? Hell, despite her poise, Danielle Ford radiated a sex appeal that reached out and grabbed him by the…throat.

      “Mr. Donovan, you sent a letter demanding repayment of a loan my husband and I—”

      Suddenly he was angry with her for being so damn gorgeous on the outside and so damn dishonest within. He knew her type. Robert Ford had said his wife was superb at acting and that her “innocent” look could hook a man until she got all she could out of him. He wasn’t fool enough to believe everything Robert Ford had said, but any woman married to that liar and cheat must be tarred with the same brush.

      “Don’t you mean your late husband?” he snapped, flicking his pen on the desk.

      Her slim shoulders tensed, even as her eyes reflected surprise at his tone. “My late husband, then.” She took a breath. “About the letter. It says I owe you two hundred thousand dollars but I have no idea what this is about.”

      “Come now, Mrs. Ford,” he mocked. “What you actually thought was that you’d try and con your way out of repaying back the loan you took out from my company.”

      She gasped, her thick lashes blinking in confusion. “But I don’t know anything about a loan. And certainly not for such an amount. There must be some mistake.”

      And he was supposed to believe that?

      “Don’t play dumb.”

      A blush stained her cheeks, making her appear oddly vulnerable.

      Or guilty, but then, a person could only feel guilty if they had a conscience. He doubted this woman had one.

      “I assure you I’m not playing dumb, Mr. Donovan.”

      His jaw clenched. “Is this the same assurance your husband gave us when he borrowed the money from one of my loan officers?” He pushed some papers across his desk toward her. “Isn’t that your signature alongside your husband’s?”

      Her eyes clouded with apprehension as she took a few steps closer, before looking down at the paperwork.

      Then she paled and sank onto a chair. “It looks like my signature but…” Her voice trailed away to nothing.

      Oh, so that’s how she was going to play it. Robert had been right about her. She wasn’t about to admit to anything, not even when the evidence of her guilt was right in front of her.

      “It is your signature, Mrs. Ford,” he said, ignoring her “helpless female” act. “And now you owe me two hundred thousand dollars.”

      Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and panicked. “But I don’t have that kind of money.”

      He knew that already. After some investigating he’d learned she had exactly five thousand dollars in the bank here in Darwin. The rest she’d flittered all away, as evidenced by a variety of empty accounts around the rest of Australia. He was beginning to feel sorry for that poor guy who’d married her. She’d turn any man’s head.

      God, she was beautiful.

      And that body…

      His gaze slid down her simple pink dress and matching jacket that made a soft statement of style, to the slender legs revealed by the hem of her dress.

      Nice.

      Very nice.

      They’d look really sexy in a tub full of fluffy white bubbles, one shapely calf raised as she smoothed soap over its silky length, the water’s edge just stopping short of covering her breasts. The image aroused him without any effort at all, sending the blood pounding through his veins, telling him he needed a woman.

      This woman.

      “Then perhaps we can come to a compromise?” he said, leaning back in his leather executive chair to watch her more closely.

      Her eyelids gave the slightest flutter, before she angled her chin, as if daring him to take another look. For a moment he was tempted.

      She pulled herself up straighter. “Maybe I can pay you back a little each week. It’ll take a long time but—”

      “Not good enough.” There was only one payment he wanted now.

      Her lips parted in surprise, their perfect bow shape too damn appealing. “Wh-what?”

      “You’ll have to do better than that, I’m afraid.”

      She hesitated, as if trying to understand. “I’m not sure—”

      “You’re a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Ford.”

      Her eyes held his for a heartbeat, then a pulse began to leap crazily in a tiny vein in her neck. “I’ve been widowed for two months, Mr. Donovan. Have you no sensibility?”

      “Apparently not.” He wanted to place his lips on that neck and feel her heart beating against him.

      She let out a sigh. “Then you must tell me how I can repay you. I can certainly do with some money at the moment.”

      Ah,

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