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Rachel bent down and picked his wallet up without thinking. It was an expensive wallet. Black leather with fine stitching. Like something her father would own.
Her eyes skimmed over to his ID. He had an American driver’s license. Which seemed odd. Because he was Greek, no question.
Okay, snoopy. Not really your business.
And it wasn’t. They weren’t trading life stories so it wasn’t really fair for her to be looking at his personal property.
Before she could snap the wallet shut and put it on the table she read his name. Not on purpose. But she saw it, and then all she could do was stare.
She knew his name.
And for a full thirty seconds she didn’t know from where.
Alexios Christofides.
She heard the name in Ajax’s voice. A growl, a curse.
He wasn’t a stranger.
She’d been seduced by her fiancé’s enemy.
MAISEY YATES was an avid Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance reader before she began to write them. She still can’t quite believe she’s lucky enough to get to create her very own sexy alpha heroes and feisty heroines. Seeing her name on one of those lovely covers is a dream come true.
Maisey lives with her handsome, wonderful, diaper-changing husband and three small children across the street from her extremely supportive parents and the home she grew up in, in the wilds of Southern Oregon, USA. She enjoys the contrast of living in a place where you might wake up to find a bear on your back porch and then heading into the home office to write stories that take place in exotic urban locales.
Recent titles by the same author:
PRETENDER TO THE THRONE
(The Call of Duty) FORGED IN THE DESERT HEAT A HUNGER FOR THE FORBIDDEN HIS RING IS NOT ENOUGH
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
One Night to
Risk It All
Maisey Yates
MILLS & BOON
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To my family.
Because it takes a village to support me, and you all do it with remarkable ease, very little grumbling, and a lot of love.
You can never know how much I appreciate you.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
RACHEL HOLT’S FOCUS was pulled to the nightstand. To the ring glittering there in the bedside table light. She lifted her left hand and looked at the finger the ring had been on only a few hours ago.
Strange to see it bare after so much time wearing it.
But it hadn’t seemed right to wear it now.
She picked it up off the nightstand and held it up, watching it sparkle, then turned over and looked at the man sleeping next to her. His arm thrown up over his head, his eyes closed, dark curls falling into his face. He was like an angel. A wonderful fallen angel who’d shown her some deliciously sinful things.
But he wasn’t the man who’d given her the ring. He wasn’t the man she was supposed to marry next month.
That was a problem.
He was so beautiful, though, it was hard to think of him as a problem. Alex, with the beautiful deep blue eyes and golden-brown skin. Alex, whom she’d met that afternoon—oh, good Lord, she’d known him less than twenty-four hours—on the docks.
She looked at the clock. She’d known him for eight hours. Eight hours had been all it took for her to shed years of staid, respectable behavior. To shed her engagement ring, and follow her... She couldn’t say heart. It was hormones, clearly.
What had she been thinking? It hadn’t been anything like the way she normally behaved. Not at all. She knew better than this. Knew better than to let emotion or passion overcome common sense and decorum.
There had been no decorum tonight.
From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d been completely captivated by the way he moved. The way his muscles shifted as he worked at cleaning the deck.
She closed her eyes and went straight back there. And it was easy to remember what had made her lose her mind...and her clothes.
* * *
It was the most beautiful weather they’d had since they’d arrived in Corfu. Not too hot, a breeze blowing in off the sea. Rachel and Alana had just finished lunch, and her friend was headed to the airport to fly back to New York, while Rachel was staying on to represent the Holt family at a charity event.
This vacation was her last hurrah before her wedding next month. A sowing of oats, in a respectable manner of course, as anyone