Secret Things and Highland Flings. Tracy Corbett
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Secret Things and Highland Flings
TRACY CORBETT
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Tracy Corbett 2019
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock
Tracy Corbett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008299491
Version: 2019-03-22
For Simon, thank you for helping me find my smile again. x
Table of Contents
Tuesday 29th May
Lexi Ryan wasn’t having the best of mornings. She’d managed to slice open her finger while chopping apricots for the muffins she’d baked first thing, and then she’d torn a contact lens and spent the next thirty minutes trying to locate the broken pieces in her eye. By the time she’d recovered and rushed down from the flat to open up her art gallery below, her finger was throbbing and her eye was bloodshot. Not exactly the composed and professional look she was aiming for.
She’d hoped wearing her favourite emerald-green fifties wrap-around dress might cheer her flagging spirits, but not even her love of vintage clothing was working today.
It was now lunchtime and things hadn’t improved. She had a pile of bills that needed paying and insufficient funds in her account to cover them. She’d phoned a few long-standing clients, hoping to encourage them into settling their accounts, but it had proved a fruitless exercise. Exceeding her overdraft limit this month was looking highly likely.
Concealing her agitation, she returned her attentions to her waiting clients. After all, she had a business to run. Stressing over her finances wouldn’t save her precious gallery from foreclosure, or prevent her from inflicting GBH on the annoying businessmen who couldn’t make up their mind between Livemont’s Scent of a Rose and Munch’s The Scream. Professionalism was called for.
‘Original?’ the older of the