Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
A Breathless Bride
Dear Reader
About the Author
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Underneath It All
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
JULES BENNETT’s love of storytelling started when she would get in trouble as a child and would tell her parents her imaginary friend Mimi did it. Since then, her vivid imagination has taken her down a path she’d only dreamed of.
When Jules isn’t spending time with her wonderful supportive husband and two daughters, you will find her reading her favorite authors. Though she calls that time “research.” She loves to hear from readers! Contact her at [email protected], visit her website at www.julesbennett.com or send her a letter at PO Box 396, Minford, OH 45653, USA. You can also visit her fan page on Facebook or follow her on Twitter (@Jules-Bennett).
When a dripping-wet female yelled his name, Bronson Dane didn’t even try to stop his eyes from roaming over all of her.
With only a short white towel covering her glistening dark, Italian skin, his mother’s personal assistant of only six months certainly knew how to catch a man’s attention.
“Mr. Dane,” she repeated, clutching the towel to her chest with both hands. She’d stopped short as she’d stepped from the bath when she saw him standing at the desk in his mother’s adjoining office.
“Formalities are unnecessary when you’re only wearing water droplets and a towel. Call me Bronson.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, thankful he’d shed his jacket because, damn, the temperature just rose at least ten degrees. “Where is my mother and why are you showering in her private bath?”
Wide eyes, nearly as dark as her ebony hair, blinked in rapid succession. “Olivia is gone for the day. I often use the gym, and since I’m working this afternoon, she told me just to freshen up here instead of running back to my guest cottage.”
Bronson muttered a curse at his naive mother. It was bad enough Mia Spinelli lived on the Dane estate, but now she was given free rein of the house? Hadn’t his mother learned her lesson from the last “loyal” assistant? When would the woman realize she couldn’t trust everyone who looked innocent?
This was Hollywood, for pity’s sake. Lies and manipulation were as common as breast implants and collagen injections.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dane. I had no idea anyone would be coming by,” Mia continued, squaring her shoulders as if having a conversation wearing only a scrap of terry cloth was normal. “Weren’t you supposed to be shooting in Australia until next week?”
“Call me Bronson,” he reminded her, gritting his teeth at the floral aroma wafting from the bathroom. “The movie wrapped a week early. I stopped by to talk to my mother about the film festival next week. Did she say when she’d be back?”
“She’ll be back later in the afternoon. She’s having lunch with her attorney to go over the final contract for her next book.” The knuckles on the hand fisting her towel between her breasts turned white as she crossed the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I dropped my toiletry bag on the desk chair when I came in because the phone was ringing.”
Before she could pass by him, he blocked her and reached for the simple black bag from the leather desk chair. She grabbed for it, but he held the small bag out to the side, away from her grasp.
He didn’t trust her, especially since she’d just come off the heels of working for the one man he despised in the industry, Anthony Price. He loathed the man with every fiber of his being. But he certainly didn’t want to think about all those reasons now.
His mother had assured him that Mia was “a doll” and completely trustworthy and dependable. His sister, Victoria, had jumped on the Mia bandwagon as well, stating that Mia was such a joy and pleasure to be around.
