The Millionaire's Christmas Wife. Susan Crosby

      

      The Millionaire’s Christmas Wife

      Susan Crosby

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Copyright

      Susan Crosby believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English, then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career—a wish come true.

      Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and will always believe in happily ever after.

      More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

      For Steve—brother, friend and cohort in childhood adventures. Thanks for all the times you got me out of trouble—and into it.

       Chapter One

      Denise Watson wondered if Gideon Falcon would be on time for his three o’clock appointment. She was an if-I’m-not-five-minutes-early-I’m-late kind of person herself, but he didn’t come across as a man who kept a close eye on the clock.

      Anticipating his arrival, she stood at a window of her corner office, overlooking a bustling downtown Sacramento intersection. She’d moved her domestic-and-clerical-help agency, At Your Service, to this prestigious location a year ago, after four years of growing the business. She loved the view of the city skyline from her window.

      From three stories up, Denise spotted a motorcycle zip into a just-vacated space on the street below. It had to be Gideon. A motorcycle would suit him—he was in the business of adventure, after all, flying planes and helicopters into remote areas, guiding office-bound executives on treks into the wilderness. He wouldn’t use conventional transportation, not even in mid-December, with rain predicted by commute time.

      She watched him unhook something long and narrow from the back of his bike, take off his helmet then stride toward her building.

      Giving her hair a quick toss over her shoulders, Denise returned to her desk, surprised to hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She’d been more than a little attracted to Gideon that night a month ago at his brother David’s wedding, had danced with him for hours, neither of them taking another partner.

      What woman wouldn’t be attracted? He was breath-takingly handsome, his hair a rich, dark brown, his eyes not just blue, but intense, see-into-your-soul blue. And his body…He had a body, all right. He was also about as opposite from her as anyone could be. A daredevil man and a cautious woman mixed about as well as the proverbial oil and water.

      Then there was also the minor point that he hadn’t called her since.

      Her receptionist buzzed her. It was exactly three o’clock. Denise walked out to the reception area to welcome him.

      You cut your hair.

      It was the first thing that popped into her head when she saw him. It hadn’t been superlong before, but long enough to curl down his neck some. Long enough to fall into his face when she’d taken off her heels and he’d leaned closer while they danced. Now he looked like…well, a businessman, although an edgy, rather dangerous one.

      “Thank you for fitting me into your schedule,” Gideon said as they shook hands, his eyes sparkling as if he knew all the secrets of the universe—or at least the one about whether or not she found him tempting. He wore boots, blue jeans, a white dress shirt and black leather jacket, somehow making casual look chic, as much a dressed-for-success look for his line of work as her outfit was for hers.

      “I had a cancellation,” she said. They walked toward her office. “It’s our busiest time of year, since lots of people need temporary help right before and after Christmas.”

      “This is my least busy time.”

      He