Her Irresistible Protector. Michelle Douglas
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Mitch had a smile that could make a woman forget which way was up. A flicker of heat licked low in her belly.
She swallowed. Mitch could make a woman forget vows she’d made to herself—vows never to fall for him again, not to expose herself to his treachery.
Only he wasn’t being treacherous at the moment, was he? He was trying to give her a holiday.
They landed against the beach with a tiny bump and scrape. Mitch vaulted lightly out and she barely noticed the rocking from side to side because he steadied them again so quickly.
He reached out to take her hand. “Keep your shoes on. The shells are sharp.”
She gritted her teeth and put her hand in his. “Thank you.” Her voice came out breathy.
He let go of her and she had to lock her knees to stay upright. She glanced around, forced herself to feign interest in her surroundings rather than the man beside her.
“It’d be possible to hide away from the world here.”
She had a sudden vision of a thick blanket spread on the smoother ground beyond the shells, a bottle of champagne, strawberries … and a naked man. The vision of her and Mitch together hit her hard and hot. She shot a look at him from beneath heavy eyelids—took in his wide shoulders, the depth of his chest and those rippling biceps.
He’d be sheer heaven to touch.
What will it take to tame these rebels?
A brand-new duet
by Michelle Douglas
Best friends Tash and Rick are in for the wildest of rides when they’re forced to spend time on the other side of the tracks.
Reforming a rebel image is tough—especially when the past is against them. But when their future depends on learning to trust someone else they soon find out that with the right person on their side they can do anything … even risk it all for love!
Available this month:
HER IRRESISTIBLE PROTECTOR
and look out next month for:
THE REBEL AND THE HEIRESS
also by Michelle Douglas!
Her Irresistible Protector
Michelle Douglas
At the age of eight MICHELLE DOUGLAS was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, ‘A writer.’ Years later she read an article about romance writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Master’s programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings.
Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelle-douglas.com.
To my irresistible little sister, Jess
Contents
‘YES!’ TASH FLUNG up the lid of the washing machine, bunched up a T-shirt and lobbed it into the dryer. A pair of shorts followed and then another T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit pants. ‘Oh, yes, and she’s going for the record...’ A rolled-up sweatshirt sailed through the air and into the dryer without touching the sides. She grinned. As soon as she switched that baby on, her holiday officially started.
One glorious week.
Just to herself.
She did a little dance. A week! A whole week.
A knock on the front door pulled her up mid-shimmy and the next T-shirt sailed past the dryer to land in the laundry tub. She turned to glare.
No, no, don’t glare. Holiday, remember?
She let out a breath, reaching for her customary languor and shrugged it on. As soon as she was out of Sydney she could carry on with as much uncool excitement as she pleased, but until then she had no intention of ruining her tough-customer image.
Chin tilted?
Check.
Swagger?
Check.
Bored facial expression?
Check.
At seventeen it had taken her weeks—months!—to perfect that particular attitude. Now she could slip it on at will.
She strode down the hallway, determined to get rid of whoever was on the other side as quickly as she could. Throwing open the door, she glanced at the figure outlined on the other side of the screen and everything slammed to a halt—her feet, her mind, her holiday mood. Screaming started up inside her head. Air pressed hard against her lungs—hot, dry and