Читать онлайн «The Forbidden Touch of Sanguardo»
Автор James Julia
‘Goodnight, Mr Sanguardo,’ Celeste said, her smile flickering uncertainly.
For a moment she just went on standing there, looking at him.
Letting the impact he made on her retinas be absorbed into her.
‘Goodnight, Celeste,’ Rafael answered. He gave her a brief nod of farewell and got back into the car. The chauffeur slammed the door and went to the driver’s seat.
Celeste stepped inside the entrance hall, shut the door and went upstairs. Her heart-rate was raised, she knew.
But it was not the stairs. For as she turned on the light in her flat and went to the living room windows to pull the curtains, and looked down to the pavement at the car starting to pull into the road now that she was safely inside, she could feel her heart’s hectic beating.
And she knew exactly what had caused it.
His name echoed in her head. Circling around.
Not letting her go.JULIA JAMES lives in England with her family. Harlequin 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!
Recent titles by the same author:
PAINTED THE OTHER WOMAN
THE DARK SIDE OF DESIRE
FROM DIRT TO DIAMONDS
FORBIDDEN OR FOR BEDDING?
The
Forbidden Touch
of Sanguardo
Julia James
To the utterly unforgettable holidays I’ve been privileged to have in Hawaii, which inspired the romantic setting for Celeste and Rafael. (And, yes, I did go on a star-gazing expedition—just like they did!!!!)
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CELESTE STOOD POISED at the head of the long curving flight of marble stairs that led down into the great hall below. It was already crowded with people in black tie and evening clothes, and servers were circulating with trays of champagne and canapés. Her fellow models for the evening were mingling in evening dress, prior to the charity fashion show that was about to start. She had arrived slightly late at the stately home in Oxfordshire that was the evening’s venue, but had seized the last-minute opportunity to be here tonight, well away from London—and from Karl Reiner.
