She saw her own surprise and confusion, and something else reflected in his eyes. She was too close. She stumbled back, but his hands shot out, and before she realised what was happening he was pulling her back against him, wrapping his arms around her and crashing his mouth down on hers.
Her hands found their way to his back and her fingers bunched the fabric of his jacket, itching to delve underneath to touch his skin everywhere. The hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach. His hand curved round to brush the side of her breast and she moaned into his mouth.
She froze. The sound of her own desperate longing brought her thundering back to reality. What on earth were they doing? Locked together, kissing frantically, about to rip each other’s clothes off. In the lobby of a five-star hotel.
An identical thought had obviously occurred to Luke at exactly the same time. His hands stilled and he pulled back, staring down at her, his eyes so dark they were almost black and his breathing ragged as he struggled to get his body back under control.
‘Oh, dear,’ he said huskily, letting her go, turning on his heel and striding out of the hotel.
Dear Reader
Last year I read an interview with a singer whose sister once needed to get to a funeral in Ireland but was thwarted by rough seas and industrial action. So he put her up for auction on the internet as a damsel in distress. The highest bidder whisked her off to the funeral in his helicopter, they fell in love, and six months later they were married. How intriguing and romantic is that?
At around the same time Mills & Boon launched its ‘Feel the Heat’ competition on iheartpresents.com. Aspiring authors were invited to submit the first chapter and a synopsis of a Modern Heat™ story. My mind raced with possibilities. What sort of girl might end up for auction on the internet, and why would a man bid for her? And just how turbulent can the journey towards love be? Well, if you take a workaholic control freak like Luke, and a fun-loving spirit like Emily, it can turn out to be pretty bumpy! Anyway, I sent off my entry and hoped for the best while expecting the worst.
But then, to my utter amazement, I won. The prize was the invaluable advice and support of an editor, and this is the result. My first novel. Actually published. I don’t think the thrill will ever fade.
I hope you enjoy Luke and Emily’s story as much as I loved writing it.
Lucy
Lucy King spent her formative years lost in the world of Mills & Boon® romance when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and absolute ablatives didn’t stand a chance.
But, as she couldn’t live in a dreamworld for ever, she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra® and carrying a three-metre oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew she’d met the man she was going to marry. Luckily, the rower thought the same.
She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type Chapter One, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.
Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of the time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords, and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work.
Visit her at www.lucyking.net
BOUGHT: DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
BY
LUCY KING
MILLS & BOON®
To my family, for their unfailing support.
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU must be wondering what sort of girl ends up for auction on the internet,’ said Emily, picking up her glass of champagne and taking a quick sip. If she’d known such a course of action would lead to being swept off to the south of France by a gorgeous man in his private jet she’d have done it years ago, and to hell with what sort of girl it made her.
‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ Luke replied. He reached for his briefcase and flicked open the catches.
Emily settled back into the beige leather seat and looked out of the window, down at the fields and towns outside London as they blurred into ever smaller smudges of grey and green. ‘What conclusions did you draw?’ she said distractedly.
‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’
‘That bad?’ Was he being serious? Emily stifled a tiny sigh of defeat. Trying not to stare at the handsome face, broad shoulders and lean body of the man sitting diagonally opposite her, trying not to ogle the big tanned hands extracting a report from a folder, wasn’t working. It was like struggling to ignore the pull of a very strong magnet. Impossible. Her eyes swivelled to the dark head bent over the papers.
‘Unrepeatable,’ he replied, glancing up at her.
There went her stomach again. Slowly flipping over at the combination of eyes the colour of the Mediterranean in summer, the sexy half-smile and the deep, rumbling voice. Swooping in a way that had nothing to do with the flight.
Emily wrinkled her nose. ‘I can imagine. I’d have run through Lonely to Loopy with a stop-off at Desperate on the way. Not that I am any of those, of course,’ she added hastily.
‘Of course not,’ he said, in a tone that suggested he thought just that. ‘How did you guess?’
Ooooh, ouch. ‘I simply imagined what sort of person would respond to an ad like that,’ she replied sweetly.
Luke sat back and fixed her with a coolly amused stare. ‘I see you’ve regained the power of speech. It’s back with a bite.’
Emily fought the urge to squirm under his penetrating gaze and gave him what she thought might look like an apologetic smile. ‘Today has taken on an unexpectedly surreal quality. I’m only just getting my head round it.’
The moment they’d met, the instant she’d put her hand in his to shake it, she’d been struck uncharacteristically dumb. Her body had felt as though it had received a thousand-volt charge. Her heart had jumped and she’d gone momentarily dizzy, the blood racing to parts of her body that had been out of action for so long she’d forgotten she had them. She’d never experienced sexual attraction like it, and it was making her feel slightly unhinged.
‘You don’t invite strange men to transport you to foreign countries often?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side.
‘I don’t invite strange men to transport me anywhere ever.’
‘In
