Christina Hollis
CHRISTINA HOLLIS was born in Somerset, and now lives in the idyllic Wye valley. She was born reading, and her childhood dream was to become a writer. This was realised when she became a successful journalist and lecturer in organic horticulture. Then she gave it all up to become a full-time mother of two and run half an acre of productive country garden.
Writing Mills & Boon® romances is another ambition realised. It fills most of her time, between complicated rural school runs. The rest of her life is divided between garden and kitchen, either growing fruit and vegetables or cooking with them. Her daughter’s cat always closely supervises everything she does around the home, from typing to picking strawberries!
You can learn more about Christina and her writing at www.christinahollis.com.
To Martyn, for all his help and support
MEG could hardly believe her luck. Charity Gala Night at the world-famous Chelsea Flower Show, and she was part of it! The rich and famous jetted in from all over the world for this exclusive preview. Her display of tropical flowers attracted them all, so she was getting a grandstand view of their wealth and beauty. When she heaved a sigh now, it was only to experience the fragrance of a million flowers and acres of crushed grass. Her career might be on hold, but this experience was taking her mind off her pain.
Suddenly, a strangely determined movement caught her eye. A gorgeous man was threading his way between the tycoons and movie stars. Patting a shoulder here, kissing a woman there, he looked as though he owned the place. Tall, athletic and moving with natural grace, he was born to wear a tuxedo. Meg couldn’t help following him with her eyes. His dark good looks were illuminated every few seconds by a flashing smile as yet another person tried to catch his eye. Meg wondered what it would be like to be part of his charmed circle. Watching him was her window into another world. When the crowd closed around him, hiding him from view, a light definitely went out of her evening. She dropped her gaze to the reality of her job on the Imsey Plant Centre stand again, wondering what it would have been like to sample some of his charm for herself.
The expression froze on her face as she realised her day-dream was about to come true. Her ideal man was walking straight towards her display stand, and smiling. He obviously wanted to attract her attention. He got it—instantly.
‘Buona sera, signorina!’ He twinkled, his voice rippling with Italian delight. ‘I need beautiful presents for some…special people. I’ve been told this sort of plant is foolproof…’ he continued, looking down at an open note-book in his hands. Frowning briefly, he raised his eyes to hers again with a particularly devastating smile. ‘Mmm…I wonder—can you read this handwriting?’
He made no move to hold the little book out to her. Meg couldn’t reach it from where she stood. She might never get a better chance to approach a man like this. Glancing apprehensively all around, she nipped around the end of the Imsey stand and went to his side. She felt unbelievably shy, but it was worth it. The closer she got, the more darkly handsome he became. He wasn’t just lovely, he had everything. His designer suit was so crisp and new, a gold Rolex shone against his flawless tan, and when he moved she was engulfed in a waft of expensively discreet aftershave.
‘This is the first chance I’ve had to get out from behind this display all day, sir!’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.’
With a flutter of pleasure, Meg heard all sorts of unspoken promises in his voice. It didn’t take a mind reader to know that was exactly what he intended. Smiling down at her indulgently, he showed her his notebook. The first thing she noticed was the way his fingers curled around its leather-bound cover. They were long, strong and a shade of brown more usually seen on the men who worked beside her in the greenhouses at home. There was only one difference. Unlike them, this man had fingernails that were neat and clean. Meg found herself wondering if the rest of him was equally smooth and perfect…
Her handsome customer cleared his throat. It was a soft, polite sound but Meg’s guilt made her jump. She looked back at his notebook. Most of the page was covered in staccato Italian written in a strong, clear hand. Then an expansive, old-fashioned script had added something. Meg leaned close to her visitor, trying to make out what it said. The warm night released another tantalising hint of his expensive cologne into the air. She inhaled, trying to make it sound as though she were concentrating. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment for her. When she had served him, this stunning man would be gone from her life for ever. Meg made sure she stretched out the moment for as long as she could.
‘It’s an Imseyii hybrid, sir. They’re exclusive to my family’s nursery,’ she announced, leaning back from him with regret. She was rewarded with a look that made everything worthwhile. His dark brown eyes glittered with pleasure. Meg gazed into them, and was lost. His teasing smile was as irresistible as the rest of him and she felt herself getting warmer by the minute.
He leaned toward her with a wicked grin. ‘What I want to know is: do women like them?’
‘They can’t resist them, sir!’ Meg giggled, surprising herself. She had never found anything remotely funny about her work before. ‘Our orchids are the perfect impulse gift to give a lady.’
‘Or perhaps several ladies?’
Meg let his remark pass. There were too many people relying on her, back at home, for a flirtation to lead her astray. Turning away from the influence of his beautiful eyes, she spread her hand towards her display, inviting him to admire the carefully crafted arrangement she had made of the nursery’s best plants. Dozens of them nestled in a bed of soft green moss. Hundreds of arching stems as fine as florist’s wire trembled in the slightest movement of air. Each was set with dozens of perfect little flowers, some plain, some patterned, and in almost every colour of the rainbow. Meg was so proud of them she allowed herself another smile.
‘They’re often called “dancing delights”. Are you tempted, sir?’
Her handsome customer put his head on one
