Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex. Kate Hardy
Praise for Kate Hardy’s writing:
PLAYBOY BOSS, PREGNANCY OF PASSION ‘This story features a strong heroine who gains strength from her family and a hero who realises the importance of love and family before it’s too late. Add in their captivating romance and it makes for one great read.’
—romantictimes.com
SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH
‘Surrender yourself to this sexy and romantic attraction-at-first-sight story. Every aspect is spot-on, from the smoking-hot pair to the sensual step-by-step build-up as attraction turns to love. This hero is definitely a keeper!’
—romantictimes.com
‘THE GREEK DOCTOR’S NEW-YEAR BABY is romantic storytelling at its best! Poignant, enjoyable and absolutely terrific, with THE GREEK DOCTOR’S NEW-YEAR BABY Kate Hardy proves once again that when it comes to romantic fiction she’s up there with the very best!’
—cataromance.com
‘Kate Hardy never fails to deliver poignant, dramatic, realistic and heartwarming romantic fiction…With its cast of wonderfully believable and fantastic characters, and plenty of powerful emotion and dramatic intensity, FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY MILLIONAIRE is another dazzling keeper from one of the finest writers of high quality romantic fiction: Kate Hardy!’
—pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com
Allegra was too stunned to say a word.
At twenty-one Xavier Lefèvre had been a good-looking boy. At thirty-one he was all man. His olive skin made his grey-green eyes seem even more piercing, and he had the beginnings of lines round his eyes, as if he smiled a lot or spent most of his time in the sun. His tousled dark hair was overlong; the style, she thought, was more in keeping with a rock star than a financial whiz-kid. And the fact that he hadn’t shaved made him look as if he’d just got out of bed, leaving his lover asleep and totally satiated.
Just the sight of him made Allegra feel as if the temperature in the room had soared by ten degrees—she could still remember just how it had felt to fall asleep in Xav’s arms, warm and satiated in the sunshine, after making love all afternoon.
Oh, hell. How was she supposed to think straight when the first thing that came into her mind where Xavier Lefèvre was concerned was sex—and the second thing was how much she still wanted him?
She needed her libido strapped into a straitjacket. Right now. Before it started wrestling with her common sense.
Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex
by
Kate Hardy
KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she also loves cooking—see if you can spot the recipes sneaked into her books. (They’re also on her website, along with excerpts and the stories behind the books.)
Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical™ Romances since 2001, and also writes for Modern Heat™; her novel BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S won the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s Romance Prize in 2008. She says she loves what she does because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add warmth, heart and passion, plus a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!
Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com
Recent titles by the same author:
Modern Heat™
GOOD GIRL OR GOLD-DIGGER?
TEMPORARY BOSS, PERMANENT MISTRESS
Medical™ Romance
NEUROSURGEON…AND MUM
THE DOCTOR’S LOST-AND-FOUND BRIDE
For Maggie—who helped me see the wood for the trees—with love and thanks.
Chapter One
SHE was back.
Xavier’s heart beat just that little bit faster as he put down the phone to his lawyer.
This was ridiculous. He was completely over Allegra Beauchamp. He’d been over her for years. So of course it wasn’t nerves making his pulse race like this. It was anger—anger that she was planning to walk in after all this time and interfere. He’d put his heart and soul into the vineyard for the last ten years, and he was damn sure he wasn’t going to let her flounce in and ruin all his hard work.
He didn’t trust her a single millimetre. Not any more. Quite apart from the way she’d broken his heart, dumping him when he’d needed her most, she hadn’t come back to support her great-uncle—the man who’d given her a home every summer while she was growing up—when he’d been old and frail and needed her. She hadn’t even made it back to France for Harry’s funeral; but she’d come straight back to claim her inheritance of fifteen hectares of top-quality vines and a big stone mas.
Her actions spoke volumes.
But in some ways it also made things easier. If Allegra was only interested in the money, then she’d be happy to sell her half of the vineyard to him, despite what she’d claimed to his lawyer this afternoon. Right now, she might have some romantic idea of what it was like to run a vineyard, but Xavier knew that as soon as she had a taste of the real thing she’d run straight back to London. Just as she had ten years ago—except this time she’d only be taking his money with her, not his heart. And this time he’d have no regrets.
He grabbed his car keys from his desk drawer, locked his office door and strode off towards his car. The sooner he faced her, the better.
Allegra sipped her coffee, but the dark, bitter liquid did nothing to clear her head.
She’d been a fool to come back after all this time. She should’ve just agreed with the lawyer’s suggestion of selling Harry’s half of the vineyard to his business partner, stopped off briefly at the tiny church in the village to lay some flowers on her great-uncle’s grave and pay her respects, and then gone straight back to London.
Instead, something had made her come back to the old stone farmhouse where she’d spent so many summers as a child. Whether it was an impulse to do right by her great-uncle or something else, she wasn’t sure. But now she was here in the Ardèche, she regretted the impulse. Seeing the house, smelling the sharp scent of the herbs growing in their terracotta troughs by the kitchen door, had made her feel physically sick with guilt. Guilt that she hadn’t come back before. Guilt that she hadn’t been there to take the call telling her that Harry had had a stroke—and that he’d died in hospital before she’d even found out that he was ill. Guilt that, despite her best efforts, she hadn’t made it here for the funeral.
Everyone in the village had already judged her and found her wanting. She’d been aware of the glances and mutters from people in the square as she’d put the flowers on the greening-over mound in the churchyard, next to the little wooden cross that would mark Harry’s grave until the ground had settled enough for it to support a proper headstone. And the coldness with which Hortense Bouvier had received her, instead of the warm hug and good meal that the housekeeper had greeted her with all those years before, had left her in no doubt as to the older woman’s disapproval.
Walking back into the kitchen had been like walking straight