Indebted To Moreno. Kate Walker

      Sins of the past must be paid!

      On trembling legs, dress designer Rose Cavalliero stares up at the man she never thought she’d see again. Tall, dark and dangerous, Spaniard Nairo Moreno took Rose’s virginity before a misunderstanding led her to nearly destroy his life. But now he’s back and determined to collect the debt she owes him.

      Designing his precious sister’s wedding gown will cement Rose’s career. But if she’d known that accepting Nairo’s offer would see her blackmailed into becoming a more-than-convenient fiancée to the man who broke her heart, Rose would have said no...wouldn’t she?

      ‘There is a price for my assistance.’

      Of course there was. This was Nairo Moreno she was dealing with. A man who had somehow built himself up from the shabby, broken beginnings of their lives when they had first met and who was now this powerful, wealthy man. There had to be a price on anything he did.

      ‘A price?’ Rose queried.

      ‘Oh, don’t look so panicked,’ he mocked as she turned uncertain eyes on him. ‘I’m not going to demand your body in return for my favours in some odd modern version of droit du seigneur.’

      He paused just long enough for her skin to smart under the bite of his mockery.

      ‘There wouldn’t be much point, would there? After all, we’ve already been there—haven’t we, querida?’

      The pointed reminder that they had once been lovers, that he had been the one to take her virginity all those years before, drained the strength from her muscles, making her grab at a nearby chair for support. It was An innocence that then she had relinquished happily and unhesitatingly,because she had been so much under the sway of the heated hunger she had known for this man, blinded to anything but her need for him.

      He might have stepped in to save her business earlier this evening, but what he had decided so surprisingly to give her he could take away in the space of a heartbeat. She must not forget that she was no longer dealing with the boy she’d met ten years before. This man was a very different sort of male.

      KATE WALKER was born in Nottingham, in the UK, but grew up in West Yorkshire. She met her husband at university in Wales and originally worked as a children’s librarian. After the birth of her son she returned to her childhood love of writing. Her first book was published in 1984. She now lives in Lincolnshire with her husband—also a writer—and two cats who think they rule her life.

      Books by Kate Walker

      Mills & Boon Modern Romance

      Destined for the Desert King

      Olivero’s Outrageous Proposal A Question of Honour

      Royal & Ruthless

      A Throne for the Taking

      Return of the Rebels

      The Devil and Miss Jones

      The Powerful and the Pure

      The Return of the Stranger

      Italian Temptation!

      The Proud Wife

      The Greek Tycoons

      The Greek Tycoon’s Unwilling Wife

      The Good Greek Wife?

      Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

      Indebted to Moreno

      Kate Walker

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Alison and Malcolm, aka Malison—a fine poet and my favourite Tech Support guy. With many happy memories of Writers’ Holidays and other events.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Dedication

       PROLOGUE

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       Extract

       Copyright

       PROLOGUE

      THE ALMOST FULL moon was burning cold and high in the darkness of the sky as Rose slipped out of the door, shutting it cautiously behind her. She winced inwardly as the battered wood creaked on rusted hinges, the sound seeming appallingly loud in the stillness of the night, and froze in a panic, waiting for someone to stir upstairs, to come after her as her stepfather had done on that day almost three months ago. But the house remained silent and still, apparently empty, though she knew that there were half a dozen or so figures hidden behind the filthy, cracked windows on the upper floors.

      She had to be grateful for the moonlight that illuminated her way down the weed-clogged path towards the street. It helped make sure that she didn’t stumble over the beer cans or plastic bags of rubbish that littered her way.