Caroline. Anne Mather

       Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

      ANNE MATHER

      Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

      publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

      This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

      for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.

      We are sure you will love them all!

      I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

      I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

      These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

      We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

      Caroline

       Anne Mather

      

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

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ADAM STEINBECK strode swiftly through the swing glass doors of the Steinbeck Corporation Building in Park Lane. A big man with broad shoulders, dressed in a dark suit and a sheepskin overcoat, he looked powerful and assured. As he paused for a moment to light a cigar, his keen eyes surveyed the reception hall. At his entrance, apart from the usual ‘Good morning, sir’ from the porters and female receptionist, an uneasy hush had descended and with a wry smile Adam acknowledged them before crossing to the lift. He was quite aware that the moment he was out of sight, a telephone call would hastily be put through to his suite of offices to warn his staff of his presence in the building. He rarely came in during the morning, but today he wanted to see Mercer and get those contracts wrapped up.

      He stepped into the lift and was about to close the gates when a young voice called: ‘Oh, please. Wait for me!’

      Frowning slightly, Adam saw a girl rushing across the hall towards him. He got a swift impression of long, straight, fair hair, almost white hair in fact, a tall slim body dressed in a dark blue duffel coat, a shoulder bag swinging from one hand.

      It was obvious from her manner that she was unaware of his identity and the hall staff looked agitatedly at Adam who moved his shoulders in a slight, deprecating gesture and stood aside for the girl to enter the lift.

      ‘Oh, thank you,’ she gasped with a smile, looking up at him with a pair of eyes which were incredibly green.

      Adam closed the gates. ‘Do you work here?’ he asked, realising that she was probably an employee of his, although as it was almost nine-thirty, she was obviously late.

      ‘Yes,’ she replied, trying to get her breath back. ‘I work in the typing pool. Miss Morgan’s domain. Do you know her?’

      Adam half-smiled. His rather dragon-like senior in the typing pool had always amused him.

      ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘floor three, I believe.’

      ‘That’s right. I’m awfully late and I’ll get into such a row, but honestly, we never heard the alarm this morning and Mandy said she was sure she had set it last night.’

      ‘Mandy?’

      ‘Amanda Burchester, the girl I share a room with. Two rooms actually and it’s supposed to be a flat. Amanda is an apprentice window dresser at Baileys.’

      ‘I see.’ Adam found himself strangely attracted to this young woman. She was such a refreshing change from the women of his acquaintance, and not recognising him she spoke freely and without any ulterior designs. Of course she was very young, probably about eighteen, but charming nonetheless.

      ‘I haven’t seen you before,’ she continued, looking up at him. ‘If I had I should have remembered. All the boys I know are my height themselves. I’m five feet seven, you know, but you make me feel quite small.’

      ‘Thank you. I believe this is your floor.’

      ‘Oh, yes. Gosh, it would be just like me to go straight past.’

      ‘I wouldn’t let you do that,’ he said smoothly.

      ‘Do you work here, too? Are you late as well? I’ve only been here two weeks, so of course I don’t know everybody yet.’ She stepped into the corridor.

      ‘Yes, I work here,’ he replied with a wry smile. ‘I trust you won’t have too much trouble with Miss Morgan.’

      ‘So do I,’ she averred fervently. ‘Well, goodbye, then. I may see you again some morning.’

      ‘You may, indeed,’ he said easily, and closed the gates, firmly pressing the button for the top floor.

      His office suite was accommodated on this floor, along with the offices of his co-directors and the imposing board room. He had his own staff of typists and his personal assistant, John Mercer, was in the adjoining office. The corridor here was thickly carpeted and all the rooms were soundproof and luxurious.

      He entered the outer office of his own domain and saw that his private secretary