All's Fair in Lust & War

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “What happened was supposed to stay in Vegas. It will never happen again.”

“Never, huh? That’s a long time.”

“I’m serious. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to let some man screw up my life.”

He pulled her into his arms and tilted her face up to his.

“I think you know I’m not just ‘some man,’” he said as he brushed his lips across hers. “I’m magic.”

With that, he deepened the kiss. Their tongues darted and danced and he pulled her closer, wanting more.

He was reaching for the buttons on her blouse when the sharp whistle that signalled the arrival of a text message on his phone blared.

Becky jumped back, staring at him with undisguised horror.

“I’m not sure if you’re magic,” she whispered. “But I am beginning to think you might be the devil.”

“I’ve been called worse by my competition,” he said. “But usually not until after I beat them.”

Dear Reader

I’ve worked in the world of advertising for far longer than is healthy. It’s a wild and woolly world, filled with beautiful people, strong personalities, and lots and lots of drama.

It is, in other words, the perfect place to set a romance novel.

For a really long time I was too busy living in it to find time to write about it. When inspiration finally did strike it was National Novel-Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo, as those of us insane enough to participate like to call it), and I had thirty days to pound out a fifty-thousand-word novel.

For twenty of those days the words flew through my fingers and on to my computer screen faster than I could speak them. Unfortunately on day twenty-one I discovered I was telling the wrong story. The words stopped, the story stalled, and Mark and Becky took up residence in my head.

They stayed there for almost four years. And, let me tell you, they were obnoxious house guests—always whispering in my ear, trying to get me to write the right story and set them free.

I finally did it last fall, during the So You Think You Can Write contest. I didn’t win, but Mark and Becky caught the right editor’s attention. And now, less than five months later, I’m writing you this letter.

It’s been the adventure of a lifetime. A dream come true. And one heck of a relief—Mark and Becky have finally vacated my head.

If you enjoy this story one-tenth as much as I enjoyed writing it you’re in for a treat. They’re delightful people, living in a delightfully insane world.

Thanks for reading!

Amber

All’s Fair in Lust & War
Amber Page

www.millsandboon.co.uk

AMBER PAGE has been writing stories since—well, since she could write, and still counts the pinning of her ‘Bubble People’ tale to the classroom bulletin board in the third grade as one of her happiest childhood memories.

She’s also an avid reader, and has been addicted to romances since she first discovered them on the dusty shelves of her favourite library as a young teen. The nerdy little bookworm she was is still pinching herself to make sure that this whole ‘getting published by Mills & Boon^®’ thing is real.

When not penning Happily-Ever-Afters, Amber works as an advertising writer in the heart of Indiana, where she lives with the love of her life, their daughter, and a menagerie of furry animals. She also blogs, gardens, and sometimes even manages to sneak in a few hours of sleep.

Don’t ask her how she does it all. She’s too tired to remember.

ALL’S FAIR IN LUST & WAR is Amber Page’s debut book for Mills & Boon^® Modern Tempted™ and is also available in ebook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEDICATION

To my husband, my biggest cheerleader and occasional butt-kicker. Thank you for refusing to let me give up.

To Allison, Amanda, Christina, Meagan, Rhonda and Tanya, whose speed-reading skills and smart critiques helped make this book what it is.

And to everyone else who cheered me along the way (you know who you are).

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Mark awoke slowly, his mouth fuzzy and his limbs strangely heavy. He rolled over, expecting to see...who? Certainly not the empty pillow that greeted him.

Head spinning slightly, he lifted himself up on his elbow to look around the room. He was in his hotel room, right? Seeing his laptop on the desk, he decided it was probably safe to assume he was still in Vegas and hadn’t hopped on a plane to Bangladesh or something.

He kept his gaze moving, noting two wine glasses, a knocked-over bottle of red wine—damn, he hoped they didn’t charge him for that stain on the carpet—and there, by the heavy hotel room door, a pair of cheetah-print stilettos.

Suddenly memory came rushing back.

Walking down to the AdWorld closing party. Seeing the pretty blonde in the tight red dress giggling into her phone. Feeling compelled to talk to her. And then—wham! Being hit in the gut by a lightning bolt of lust when she turned to grin up at him with her sparkling green eyes.

He would have done anything to get closer to her. To get to know her.

Which was probably why he’d found himself doing something totally out of character.

“I’m Mark,” he’d said, taking her hand in his and grazing her knuckles with his lips. “May I have the honor of escorting you this evening, my lady?”

She’d swallowed loudly, and he’d seen the desire sparking in her eyes.

Nonetheless, she’d been as cool as ice when she’d answered him. “I’d love that. Shall we?”

He’d held out his arm for her to take and together they stepped through the ballroom doors into the strobe-lit party beyond.

That had been followed by copious drinking, he was sure. His mind showed him an image of her gazing at him uncertainly before raising a tequila glass.

“Let’s toast,” she’d said. “To one wild night.”

“To one wild, scandalous night,” he’d answered.

And there’d been dancing. He remembered how she’d laughed as she spun away, then melted when he drew her close again. And how sweet her lips had tasted when he’d pulled her in for a kiss...

The first of many kisses.

Eventually she’d clung to him and said, “Mark, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need you. Take me back to your room?”

What had followed had been one of the most...no, the hottest night of his life.

She’d been so hot, so willing to do anything... And when they’d finished she’d rolled over and said, “Wanna do it again?”

His answer had been, “Hell, yes.”

But what was her name again?

Just then the bathroom door opened and she stepped out, engulfed in the hotel-issue robe, her long blond hair dripping down her back. She looked at him and smiled, green eyes sparkling.

The lightning bolt hit home again.

“Becky,” he said. Her name was Becky.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said.

“Hey, yourself. What are you doing up so early?”

“Oh,” she said, a momentary frown crossing her small face. “My flight leaves in a few hours, and I’ve got some work to do this morning. I figured I should probably get a move on.”

“Ah,” he said, overcome with an inexplicable sense of disappointment. “I thought maybe we could go get some breakfast. Or, you know, have breakfast in bed.” Which, honestly, had been the last thing on his mind until she’d emerged from the bathroom. But once he’d seen her he’d been able to think of nothing he’d rather do other than peel that giant robe off her tiny frame.

She gave him a pained smile and perched on the edge of the bed.

“I’d love to, but you know how it goes. Duty calls.”

Reading her tense body language, Mark realized it was no use. He also knew he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. “All right. I understand,” he said slowly, seeking a conversational gambit that would keep her talking. “You know, we never even talked about our jobs. What do you do?”

“I’m a copywriter. For an agency in New York—SBD,” she said slowly.

“Really? What a coincidence. I’m starting a new gig—”

Gently, she placed her hand over his mouth. “You know what? Don’t tell me about you. Last night was—well, it was magical, but I’m not looking to start a relationship. Even a casual one. If you don’t mind, I’d just like to think of you as Mark the Magic Man from Las Vegas...not a real person I might run into at the supermarket.”

Wow. That was a first. Usually it was him trying to duck out while a girl tried to pry information out of him. He wasn’t so sure he liked being on this end of things. But his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that to her.

“Hmm,” he said. “I kind of like being a Magic Man. Maybe I should go into business.”

She threw her head back and laughed, and suddenly the tension eased. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. Hard.

“Thank you for last night. Believe me when I tell you it’s one I’ll never forget.”

He smiled. “Me neither,” he said. And he meant it.

Moments later Becky finished getting dressed and, holding her heels in one hand, she blew him a kiss.

“Bye, Magic Man.”

“Bye, Gorgeous Girl.”

And then she was gone.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said to himself.

Reaching for his iPad, he loaded up the search engine. It was time to look up his gorgeous new coworker.

ONE

Becky was engrossed in the dreary task of sorting through her inbox, attempting to make sense of the three hundred and fifty-seven emails that had accumulated while she was in Vegas, when a cardboard coffee cup was slammed down on her desk.

“One venti dark roast with a splash of vanilla soy milk,” Jessie said. “Just the way you like it.”

Becky looked up and grinned at her redheaded friend.

“Aw, thanks, Jessie. You didn’t have to do that.”

Jessie shrugged her coat off, threw it on the visitor’s chair, then collapsed at her desk.

“It’s bribery. Now, spill.”

“Spill? You want me to spill this delicious coffee?”

Jessie threw her rainbow-colored scarf at her. “Don’t be an idiot. You know what I want to know. What happened after you texted me Saturday night? Were you able to prove to yourself that your libido isn’t dead?”

Becky blushed. “It’s alive and kicking,” she said. “And very insistent.”

“Woo-hoo! My girl scored! I knew you could do it!” Jessie said, grinning. “Now, tell me the juicy bits.”

Becky shook her head. “A lady never kisses and tells,” she said, laughing.

“Give me a break,” Jessie said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve known you for ten years, and in all that time you’ve never kept a secret from me. Give it up, sister.”

Becky shook her head again. While it was true that she and Jessie had always told each other everything, this felt different. Special.

“I’m sorry, Jessie. It just doesn’t feel appropriate to talk about it here. Besides, you know what they say. What happens in Vegas...”

Just then her boss’s voice rumbled from the vicinity of her open office door. “Is supposed to stay in Vegas, right?”

Becky whirled, readying a snappy comeback. But what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Her boss, David, was standing there, smiling. And with him was...Mark.

Mark? How could Mark be standing in her office? Becky stared at him, mouth open. It was not possible. Completely impossible, in fact.

Mark belonged in Vegas, not in New York City.

Heat flared in her belly as she remembered the last time they’d met. She’d been texting Jessie, trying to find the courage to walk into the closing night party by herself.

Just picture them standing in their underwear...then stalk the guy that makes you drool, Jessie had texted.

“Right. Underwear,” she’d said to herself. “Must picture delicious-looking men in underwear.”

And that was when she’d heard Mark’s rumbling voice for the first time.

“Well, if you’re looking for volunteers, I happen to be available.”

“What?” she’d yelped, whirling to face the interloper. Then her heart had stopped. The man smiling at her was the living, breathing definition of delicious, from the tips of his artfully rumpled black hair to the toes of his polished leather shoes.

Brilliant white teeth flashed as he grinned down at her. “If you need help. Picturing what a man looks like in his underwear, I mean. I’m happy to serve as a model.”

Becky’s face flamed. “Oh, I...uh...no one was supposed to hear that. I just...I was having trouble walking into the party by myself. My friend suggested I picture everyone in their underwear. As, you know, a motivator.”

Mr. Gorgeous tilted his head back and laughed, and as he did Becky felt it. The zing. The tingle. If she’d been alone she would have done a happy dance. He’d just proved she wasn’t dead inside!

Now that he was standing in her office, she kind of wished she had been.

Becky shook her head to clear it. She needed to pay attention to the conversation that was happening now if she wanted to make sense of the situation.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to leave all the juicy details at the airport,” Jessie said. “But I was trying to convince Becky to give me some of the gory details anyway.”

“Any luck?” asked Mark, giving Becky a sidelong glance.

“None.” Jessie pouted.

“Well, I was there,” he said. “You didn’t miss much. Although the closing night party was unexpectedly awesome.”

Becky’s head snapped up. Was he teasing her? And, if he was, how dared he? Mark just looked at her with a half smile on his face, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

“That’s what Becky said. Did you two meet?” Jessie asked.

“No!” Becky practically shouted.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Mark said at the same time.

Becky stared at him. He said nothing, just quirked one damnably expressive eyebrow at her and leaned back against the doorframe, letting her take the lead.

“Well, what I meant was we didn’t really spend much time together,” she said.

Just twelve mind-blowing hours and fifty-three bone-melting minutes. Not that she’d been counting or anything.

Her traitorous mind flashed back to their first kiss. The way he’d claimed every part of her mouth and set her whole body aflame. Within seconds she’d known she wanted more from him than a few kisses.

But it was only supposed to be for one night. If she’d known he’d turn up here she would have never...

“Mark, here, is an amazingly talented art director,” her boss said, reaching up to clap him on the back. “I’ve brought him in on a freelance basis to work on a special project. And I want you to work with him, Becky.”

“Me?” she squeaked. “But I’m busy with... I mean, I’ve got...”

“Whatever you currently have on your plate will be given to someone else,” her boss replied. “I need you on this. Be in my office at eleven. We’ll talk.”

Becky snapped her mouth shut, knowing further protest was useless and foolhardy. When David told you to do something, you did it. At least you did if you wanted to keep your job.

Which she did. Unfortunately.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good,” he answered. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Come on, Mark.”

After they were gone Becky put her head down on her desk, banging it lightly against the keyboard.

“Why, universe, why? Why would you do this to me?”

“Becky? What’s wrong?” Jessie asked.

Becky shook her head mutely.

“Oh, come on, you can tell me. You have to.”

Becky knew she was right. If she didn’t, her soon-to-be-bizarre behavior wouldn’t make much sense. And if there was one person she didn’t want to alienate it was Jessie.

Besides, Jessie was the only one who knew what had happened...before. And what she had been trying to prove to herself that night in Vegas.

Becky got up to close the door before turning to face her friend. Blowing her hair off her forehead, she said, “It was him.”

“Him? Who? I’m not following,” Jessie said.

“Mark. Mark was the man I met in Las Vegas. And things went a little bit further than I had planned.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spent the night with him...” Becky groaned.

“Are you kidding me?” Jessie asked, falling back into her chair.

Becky shook her head.

Jessie tilted her head back and howled with laughter.

“Oh, my God. Only you... This is...it’s unbelievable.”

Becky glared at her. “I really don’t think this is funny.”

“Of course you don’t. But, girl, you gotta believe me when I tell you it is.”

Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one living in a nightmare.

Finally Jessie sobered.

“All right, so Mr. One-Night Stand has become Mr. Works Down the Hall. What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Becky said flatly.

“Why? Was it...bad?”

Pictures from their night together flashed through Becky’s brain. His lips kissing her mouth. His tongue on her breast. His hands...everywhere.

“It was amazing.”

“Did you hit the big O?”

Becky blushed. “Oh, yeah. More than once.”

Jessie looked thoughtful. “Then why not see if this could go somewhere? You know—like, casual relationshippy. Fate seems to be telling you it should.”

Becky stood up, restless. “You know better than anyone why not. After everything that happened with Pence I’ll never have a relationship with someone I work with again.”

Jessie came up behind her and hugged her shoulders.

“I understand. But, Becky, that was a long time ago. You were a different person. And he was your boss, not a coworker. Besides, you can’t let him ruin your whole life. If you do, he wins.”

Sneaking a look at the clock on the wall, she groaned.

“We’ll have to talk about this more later, Jessie. I gotta go to the Hall of Doom.”

“All right, girl. Knock ’em dead.”

* * *

Mark wasn’t sure how much more of this small talk he could take.

He’d been sitting in David’s office for what felt like hours, talking about everything except the reason he was here. He now knew where the bald man’s favorite golf course was—South Carolina—what he preferred to drink—bourbon, straight up—and even how he had gotten his name—his mom had named him after Michelangelo’s David.

But he still didn’t know what his first assignment was going to be or why it had to be secret. When David had called him to see if he might be interested he’d said only that he needed help winning a giant piece of new business—one that had the potential to change the future of the agency.

That was interesting enough, but it was what David had said next that had sold him on the job.

“Mark, I’ve been searching everywhere for someone who can help me bring this home. When your name came up I knew you were the man for the job. I need you on this.”

“How did you get my name?” Mark had asked, afraid that it was another one of his stepfather’s pieces of charity.

“Mark, you’ve taken home gold from almost every major advertising competition there is. Your name is everywhere.”

Which meant this was a job he’d gotten on his own merits—not through his damned stepfather’s connections. Even better, David had all but promised him a permanent spot in the creative leadership team once they landed the account.

It was the opportunity he’d spent the past ten years working toward. He couldn’t wait to get started.

He just wished he knew what Becky had to do with it.

When he’d looked her up, he’d been amazed at how talented she seemed to be. In the five short years she’d been working as a copywriter she’d earned herself numerous awards. The whole reason she’d been in Vegas was because she was being honored with another award—this one for a social-media campaign she’d masterminded that had gone viral.

In short, she was as amazing in the boardroom as she was in the bedroom.

And what he wouldn’t give to experience that again!

He remembered how hot she’d looked, standing in his room clad only in her red lace bra and panties. And how much better she’d looked out of them...

Unfortunately the look on her face when she’d found him standing in her office had been completely and utterly horrified—and, if he wasn’t mistaken, more than a little bit furious. He didn’t think she was having the same kinds of thoughts he was having right now.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” David said.

The door opened and Becky quietly entered the room.

He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she looked even sexier in her blazer and jeans than she had wearing a cocktail dress.

She flashed a quick look at him, and flushed when he caught her eye. Man, how he’d love to see how far down that flush went.

“Thank you for coming, Becky, my girl,” David boomed. Although he couldn’t have been much more than forty, the man mimicked the vocal mannerisms of a Mad Men–style ad man. “Sit, sit, sit. We have a lot to talk about.”

She glided across the thick red carpet and sat primly in the oversize club chair next to Mark.

“I trust you had a good time in Vegas, my dear?” David asked.

Becky seemed to force out a smile. “It was amazing, David. Thank you so much for letting me go.”

“Of course—you deserved it. Besides, I knew you were one woman I could trust not to get too carried away in Vegas. I would have never sent that partner of yours. She’s trouble with a capital T.”

Becky’s laugh sounded even more forced than her smile had been. “Yeah, you know me. Married to my job and all that.”

“Oh, not to worry, Becky. Sooner or later a fine-looking girl like you is bound to get snapped up. Then you’ll be too busy having babies to write brilliant campaigns for me anymore. That’s how it always goes. Right, Mark?”

Mark was floored. People still talked like that? In an office? It was a miracle this guy hadn’t been slapped with a multimillion-dollar lawsuit yet. Or, judging from the fury flashing in Becky’s eyes, murdered.

“I don’t know about that, David. I know plenty of working mothers who—”

David cut him off. “Right, right. I know. Girls can do anything men can—blah, blah, blah. None of that matters right now, because my brilliant little sparrow is as single as they come...and I’m going to be keeping you both too busy for her to change matters any.”

Becky sucked in a breath and seemed about to say something, but she never got the chance.

“All right. Enough of this chitchat. Let’s get down to business, shall we? You two are among the most talented creatives this business has to offer,” David said. “And I’m going to need every bit of juice you’ve got. We’ve been asked to take part in the agency search for Eden. You both know what that is?”

Becky nodded. “The yogurt company?”

“You got it,” David said. “They’re coming out with a new line of low-fat, all-natural Greek yogurt flavors designed to get all those pretty hipster ladies hot and bothered. Our job is to figure out how to do that. And, since their advertising budget is a quarter of a billion dollars, we damn well better nail it.”

Becky practically bounced up and down in her chair. “Oh, I’d love to get my hands on that one,” she said.

“Oh, those pretty little hands are going to be all over it. So are yours, Mark. Just...er...hopefully not on the same spot at the same time!” he said.

Mark laughed uncomfortably. “No chance of that happening, sir.” At least not that David needed to know about.

“Good. Now, the Eden people tell me they don’t want any ‘suits’ working on their account. They want something young and fresh...something none of our existing creative directors are. That means you two have the opportunity of a lifetime.”

David got up from his chair and started to pace.

“So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to break the agency into two creative teams. Becky, you’re going to head up one. Mark, you’ll be in charge of the other. Whichever one of you comes up with the winning concept and sells it to the client will win a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus—and become the youngest creative director this agency has ever had.”

Mark blinked slowly, trying to wrap his head around this new twist. David had never said anything about a competition.

“You’re making me compete for the creative director position?” asked Becky, her eyes sparking angrily in an otherwise pale face. “But you told me that when I came back from AdWorld the job was as good as mine!”

“It is,” David said. “All you have to do is win the Eden account.”

Mark watched as Becky sprang up from her chair. There was no doubt that murder was on her mind.

“I will,” she said from between clenched teeth. Then she turned to glare at Mark. “And don’t you dare think for a second that you’ve got a shot!”

With that, she strode from the room, controlled fury in every movement. Good thing he had no problem with beating a sexy woman at her own game, because there was no way he was losing this job.

Turning to David, he said, “This competition’s going to be quite a challenge.”

“I’m counting on you to win,” David said. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.”

* * *

Becky slammed her office door so hard the wall shook.

“Wow. What’s up your butt?” Jessie asked.

“David,” Becky said.

“Ewww, that sounds uncomfortable!” Jessie giggled.

Becky glared at her. “It’s not funny,” she said. “That stupid blowhard is trying to give away my promotion again.”

“The one he swore would be yours after you got back from Vegas?”

“The one and the same.” Becky sighed, her heels tapping a staccato tune across the cement floor as she paced.

Jessie grabbed Becky’s coat. “All right, you’re going to tell me what’s happened. But not here. A discussion like this calls for hot-fudge sundaes.”

* * *

“You don’t have to win this by yourself! You’ve got your whole team behind you,” Jessie said between bites of hot fudge.

“I don’t know who’s on my team yet,” Becky said, picking up her spoon, watching as the melting ice cream dripped back into her bowl. “I could get stuck with anyone.”

“Did David lay out any rules when he said the creative department was going to be split in half?”

Becky shook her head.

“Then I vote we make the rules for him,” Jessie said, grabbing a pen and paper out of her green velvet purse. “All right. No thinking allowed. Tell me who would be on your dream team.”

“You,” Becky said slowly.

“Yeah, well, obviously. Who else?”

Becky fell silent and looked out of the window at the busy street outside. Three girls walked arm in arm, laughing and talking as they went. Just then one lone man broke through their line, forcing their arms apart. They let him through, but shot up their middle fingers at him after he passed.

“I know what we need,” she said, excitement zinging through her pores. “Jessie, we need girl power. Let’s make this a battle of the sexes.”

“Wait—what?”

“David thinks women creatives don’t have it in them to be as good as men. Let’s prove him wrong. Let’s gather all the women in the department on our team and let Mark have the men.”

“But there are more guys than girls in our department. It won’t be an even match,” Jessie said.

“Numbers aren’t everything,” Becky said. “Especially since the product in question is aimed squarely at women our age.’”

Jessie put down her spoon. “You, my dear, are brilliant.”

“Well, yeah,” Becky said. “Haven’t you seen my awards shelf?”

“I have.” Jessie snorted. “You think it’s bigger than Mark’s?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Becky said, her mind showing her wicked images of Mark’s thick penis twitching in her palm as she kissed his muscled chest. “I honestly don’t know much about him at all. Other than the fact that he’s magic...”

“Magic?”

Becky started, reluctantly letting her daydream disappear.

“That’s what I told him he was. Magic Man from Vegas.”

Jessie stared at her, her blue eyes almost green with jealousy. “Man, that must have been one good night.”

“The best,” Becky said. Seeing the question in Jessie’s eyes, she put her hand up in a “stop” gesture. “But it was just one night. I don’t want or need a man in my life right now. What I need,” she said, grinning, “is a team of Magic Women. Let’s go put it together.”

“I knew my girl was in there somewhere. And—” Jessie grinned, handing Becky the check “—since you’re about to be fifty thousand dollars richer, I’ll let you get this.”

Becky rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “But only because you’re about to work your ass off for me.”

* * *

Mark was staring out through the window of his office at the crowds teeming past on Madison Avenue, wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into.

Usually he was brought in to save the day. Agencies never called him until they were facing a problem they couldn’t solve—a challenge they couldn’t meet. He got to play the part of vagabond hero. He came in, slayed the dragon, claimed a few hot nights with the delicious advertising damsels he had rescued, then left.

He didn’t get to know the other players in the story. Never bothered to worry about whose toes he was stomping on, or what effect his actions had on those left behind when he rode off into the sunset.

His life, both professional and personal, was very much a case study in the “Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma’am,” approach to life. And that was the way he liked it.

After all, the one and only time he’d allowed himself to fall in love he’d found out the hard way that it had been his stepfather’s name—or, more aptly, his money—that had gotten him the girl. And when she’d found out that Mark would never inherit the family fortune Sandra had turned to someone who did have top billing on a rich man’s will.