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“Two women in as many days seems slightly——excessive.” About the Author Books by Carole Mortimer Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright
“Two women in as many days seems slightly——excessive.”
“No, Ellie,” he drawled. “Two women in one day is excessive!”
Her head went back defensively. “May I remind you that you also propositioned me two evenings ago?”
“But you didn’t take me up on it.”
“You still made the suggestion!”
“I didn’t realize who you were then.”
Ellie stiffened at the insult she could hear in his tone. “And what difference would it have made if you had?”.
Daniel looked at her consideringly. “A lot,” he finally answered. “You aren’t my type of woman, Ellie. I like my women to be soft and feminine and—”
“Clinging! What are your other requirements?”
“Thinking of applying?”
CAROLE MORTIMER
says: “I was born in England, the youngest of three children—I have two older brothers. I started writing in 1978, and have now written over ninety books for Harlequin Presents.
“I have four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—and a bearded collie dog called Merlyn. I’m in a very happy relationship with Peter senior. We’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live on the Isle of Man.”
Books by Carole Mortimer
HARLEQUIN PRESENTS
1727—WAR OF LOVE
1793—THE ONE AND ONLY 1823—TWO’S COMPANY
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One-Man Woman
Carole Mortimer
For Peter
CHAPTER ONE
WHAT was she doing?
It was like something out of one of those farces that used to be on television years ago. Her sister Beth loved that sort of humour, but the only thing about them that appealed to Ellie was the precision timing as the actors and actresses disappeared out of the main room into cupboards and adjoining rooms immediately before another performer made an entrance. That Ellie was able to appreciate—but because it was clever, not because it was funny.
And this wasn’t funny.
Not when she was the one who had just disappeared inside the wardrobe!
And only just in time too. Because she could hear the sound of footsteps as the occupant of the hotel suite approached the bedroom.
She could have brazened it out, of course. In fact, she wished now, secreted in the wardrobe as she was, that she had done so. But when she had heard the key turning in the lock of the adjoining lounge she had panicked, hadn’t been able to think of a plausible reason for the owner of the hotel to be in one of the guest’s suites at eight o’clock at night. But by the same token, she thought now, crowded between two rather expensive-looking suits, what excuse could she give for being found in his wardrobe? The woodworm excuse had already been used in a more recent comedy programme that Beth liked to watch, and Ellie didn’t think dry rot would sound any more convincing.
If only she hadn’t panicked in the way she had when she’d heard that key turning in the lock! What if Daniel Thackery, the guest in this suite, had left something inside the pocket of one of these suits? He had told her earlier, when she’d booked him in, that he would be dining at the hotel this evening, so he had probably changed before going downstairs. In fact, it had been because Ellie knew he was dining at eight o’clock that she’d thought this would be a good time to come in here. Her timing stank. As did her hiding place. Her first choice had been the bathroom, of course, but there was absolutely nowhere to hide in there—and if Daniel Thackery had decided to go in there...!
He was coming into the bedroom now. Ellie could see his feet through the slats of the wardrobe door—expensively shod feet, the black leather shoes looking handmade. Which they probably were, Ellie realised disgustedly. As was the black evening suit she could see as far as waist-high, the angle of the slats making it impossible for her to see any higher.
Not that she particularly wanted to see his face. She had seen that earlier, when she’d booked him into the hotel. Too stunning-looking for his own good—and that of every woman between the ages of sixteen and sixty, Ellie had decided. Piercing blue eyes had looked at her steadily but without any real interest, his nose was aquiline, he had a firmly
