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Автор James Julia
Satisfaction ran through Guy as he surveyed the woman in front of him. Alexa Harcourt in evening attire was all that he wanted her to be.
As she stood before him in the rich, lustrous beauty she was finally revealing to him, anticipation speared within him for what he knew would be the delights of the evening ahead.
Not that she gave any sign yet of realising that was to happen. She was, he knew, quite unconscious of what with absolute inevitability lay ahead. It would, of course, make her seduction even more
And now the evening was about to begin.
‘Shall we?’ he invited.
She walked with superb grace, his appreciative eye noted, although there was the very slightest tension in her shoulders. As if she were not entirely at her ease.
Yes, she was indeed well worth his time and attention. Pleased with his choice, Guy relaxed fully into the leather seats and continued his appreciative surveillance. The evening stretched pleasurably ahead of him.
And the night—ah, the night would be exceptional…
Forbidden or For Bedding?
BY
Julia James
About the Author
JULIA JAMES lives in England with her family.
Mills & Boon® were the first ‘grown-up’ books she read as a teenager, alongside Georgette Heyer and Daphne du Maurier, and she’s been reading them ever since. Julia adores the English and Celtic countryside, in all its seasons, and is fascinated by all things historical, from castles to cottages. She also has a special love for the Mediterranean—‘The most perfect landscape after England!’—and considers both ideal settings for romance stories. In between writing she enjoys walking, gardening, needlework, baking extremely gooey cakes and trying to stay fit!Prologue
MILD autumnal sunshine was filtering through the kitchen window of Alexa’s flat on the borders of Notting Hill, illuminating the pinewood table set for breakfast for two. The simple but elegant pottery creamware and silver-plated cutlery had been acquired painstakingly and piecemeal from antiques shops. Bright flowers adorned the table in a glass vase, and the aroma of freshly made ground coffee hung in the air.
So did a tension that Alexa would have had to be a block of stone not to feel.
She had had no inkling of it until this moment. Until this moment her mood had been languid—sensual, even—for making love upon waking was something that never failed to leave her with a sense of rich well-being that lasted all the day long—even on days like this when, unlike the previous night, she would go to bed alone.
But she was used to that by now. Used to going from a night of sensual overload that left her dazed, swept to shores she had once known nothing of but to which now she was a familiar, oh, so familiar traveler, to abstinance. But as she stood by the table, coffee pot in hand, her slender body concealed by nothing but a pale green silk peignoir, her long, still slightly tousled hair rippling down her back, she felt her throat give a little catch, as though her body—more than her body—remembered with absolute clarity that sense of wonder, almost disbelief, that would sweep her away on a tsunami of emotion.
