Her Pregnancy Bombshell. Liz Fielding
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Expecting her boss’s baby!
Pilot Miranda Marlowe is too sick to fly her plane, and she must face the truth: she’s pregnant! She knows well enough that her boss, Cleve Finch, is still grieving for his late wife, so to think, she heads to her sister’s new inheritance, Villa Rosa.
Despite the spiders and dust, the Mediterranean palazzo is as gorgeous as ever. Until Cleve turns up with a dramatic offer: a convenient marriage as soon as it can be arranged! It may be the sensible answer...but is it enough for Miranda?
Exhausted, a little shaky from a rough ferry crossing, Miranda handed her passport to the border-control officer.
‘Buongiorno, signora. What is the purpose of your visit to L’Isola dei Fiori?’
‘I’m running away,’ she muttered.
From her job, her life, and from the man she’d been in love with since the life-changing moment when he’d applauded her touch-down in a treacherous crosswind.
Hiding the secret she was carrying.
Her Pregnancy Bombshell
Liz Fielding
LIZ FIELDING was born with itchy feet. She made it to Zambia before her twenty-first birthday and, gathering her own special hero and a couple of children on the way, lived in Botswana, Kenya and Bahrain—with pauses for sightseeing pretty much everywhere in between. She now lives in the west of England, close to the Regency grandeur of Bath and the ancient mystery of Stonehenge, and these days leaves her pen do the traveling.
For news of upcoming books visit Liz’s website: www.lizfielding.com.
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To Kate Hardy, Scarlet Wilson and Jessica Gilmore,
who helped bring Villa Rosa and L’Isola dei Fiori
to life. It was a joy working with you.
Contents
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
Extract
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not...
William Shakespeare
‘MIRANDA...’
Andie Marlowe lifted her coat from the rack, took a breath and fixed her face into a neutral smile before turning to face Cleve Finch, the CEO of Goldfinch Air Services.
It had been nearly a year since his wife had been killed when the little six-seater she was flying was taken down by a bird strike but his grief was still unbearable to watch. He’d lost weight, his cheekbones were sharp enough to slice cheese and right now the pallor beneath his runner’s tan gave him a jaundiced look.
‘Cleve?’
‘You’re off this afternoon?’
‘I stood in for Kevin last weekend.’
‘I wasn’t questioning...’ He shook his head. ‘I just wondered if you could spare me a couple of hours.’
She did her best to ignore the totally inappropriate way her heart lifted at the suggestion he needed her. He was her boss. He simply wanted her to take on a last-minute job.
‘No problem. The ironing can wait.’
‘Ironing? It’s Friday. Shouldn’t you be getting yourself ready for a hot date?’ He almost managed a smile.
She almost managed one back. ‘Men don’t date any more, they just want hook-ups.’
‘Men are idiots,’ he said.
‘You’ll get no argument from me.’ She’d tried Internet dating in the vain hope that it would take her mind off the only man with whom she’d ever wanted to get naked. It didn’t so she’d stopped. ‘My evening involves nothing more exciting than a darts match in the village pub but if anyone on the visiting team is under fifty I might get lucky.’ She glanced up at the white board on which the flight schedule had been written but couldn’t see any obvious gaps. ‘Has someone called in sick?’
‘No.’ He lifted a hand, curled his fingers back into his palm. ‘Imogen called.’
‘My sister?’ The sudden heart-pounding obliterated the uncomfortable sensation of being out of control of her limbs whenever she was around Cleve, taking her back to another time when her twin