The Man She'll Marry. Carole Mortimer

      CAROLE MORTIMER has a long-standing reputation as one of Mills & Boon^®’s most popular authors. Readers love her likable heroines and strong, charismatic heroes, so it’s not surprising that over 40 million copies of her books have been distributed internationally. She 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 100 books for Mills & Boon. 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.”

      The Man She’ll Marry

      Carole Mortimer

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

       Table of Contents

       Cover

       About the Author

       Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘IS YOUR mother at home?’

      Merry stared at the man who stood on the doorstep. She knew she was being rude; her ‘mother’ had taught her all the necessary social niceties. But, looking the way this man did, he had to be used to women staring at him. Dani would have described him as ‘drop-dead gorgeous’, and for the first time Merry understood exactly what she meant by that phrase; this man had to set female hearts pounding, pulses racing, wherever he went!

      ‘Is Dani anything like you?’

      The second question was fired at her before she’d even had chance to formulate an answer to the first one. It had been a long day, and she had only got in a short time ago, though long enough to have quickly changed into an old pair of black denims Dani had outgrown some years before, and a sloppy green jumper that hung loosely down to mid-thigh. Not exactly the height of fashion, but she was comfortable.

      At least she had been, until faced with the elegance of her visitor. This man, well over six feet in height, with his ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ good looks—slightly overlong blond hair, a face that looked hewn from granite, eyes a deep blue, nose long and arrogant, mouth sensual above a squarely challenging jaw—wore his own designer-label clothes with a complete disregard for those labels, or for how well his blue jacket and pale blue shirt emphasised the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist, his blue jeans simply adding to his rugged handsomeness. Dani’s cast-offs, which were slightly too big at that, did not do the same for her own appearance!

      He frowned at her now, although the laughter lines beside his eyes and mouth said he wasn’t always this serious. ‘Is your mother at home?’ he persisted.

      ‘No,’ she answered him honestly, intrigued in spite of herself. Oh, not by his looks; good looks alone had never impressed her. Well, only the once. And she had learnt bitterly from the experience. No, what intrigued her about this particular man was that he obviously knew of Dani but he had no idea what Dani actually looked like . . .!

      Because Dani was nothing like Merry. Her own long hair was dark, almost black, whereas Dani’s was a riot of blonde curls, and Dani’s eyes were brown, whereas her own were green, and Dani, at eighteen, was much taller than her own five foot nothing. So who was this man? He knew of Dani, but nothing else about her—except her address...

      He gave an impatient sigh. ‘I don’t suppose your sister is here, either? No.’ He answered his own question. ‘David said they were going to some coffee shop or other this evening. Damn,’ he muttered, looking thoughtful. ‘I don’t suppose I could come in and wait, could I?’ His imperious tone of voice totally belied the request that his words should have been.

      A man used to getting his own way, Merry surmised ruefully. Probably in his late thirties, and with no ring on his left hand to say whether or not he was married. The fact that he wasn’t wearing a ring said he would do as he damn well pleased, not that he wasn’t actually married. Everything about this man quietly cried self-assurance and determination.

      ‘No, I don’t suppose you could,’ she answered dryly.

      Blond brows rose over those deep blue eyes, his mouth quirking wryly. ‘Well, at least one of the family seems to have some sense!’ he allowed.

      She remembered again that it had been a long day and she had only been home from work for a short time; what she really wanted right now was to sit down with a glass of cooled white wine and simply unwind before thinking about preparing dinner. Her unexpected guest did not fit in with those plans at all. Besides, exactly what did he want to come in and wait for?

      ‘One of the family?’ she echoed smoothly, the mildness of her tone totally masking her impatience.

      He nodded. ‘You and Dani. You are obviously the elder—’

      ‘Obviously,’ she acknowledged crisply. Why state the obvious?

      He gave her a sharp look, visibly making an effort to relax. ‘I didn’t mean to sound insulting, Miss Baker—’

      ‘You may not have meant to, Mr...?’ She paused pointedly; he knew her name while she had absolutely no idea what his might be.

      ‘Kingston,’ he supplied. ‘Zack Kingston.’

      Merry frowned. Kingston? The name did sound familiar. Dani had mentioned someone at university by that name. David Kingston... ‘David would be your son—’

      ‘Nephew,’ Zack Kingston corrected. ‘Dani has obviously talked to you about him!’

      Merry didn’t like the accusation in his tone. Any more than she liked standing on the doorstep having this conversation with him. ‘Mr Kingston, I was just about to have a glass of wine. Would you like to join me?’ Green eyes steadily met blue.

      How much ‘sense’ did he think she had now? The trouble with Mr Zack Kingston was that he formed snap judgements, and had taken