Rafael's Contract Bride. Nina Milne
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“I want you to marry me.”
Marry him? The idea was so ludicrous, so incongruous, so impossible that Cora could only stare at Rafael, her brain unable to coordinate with her vocal chords or inform her feet to get her the heck out of there. Forget the Spanish Mafia, Rafael Martinez was obviously nuts. Loop-the-loop. A few bricks, a bucket of cement and a shedload of mortar short of a wall.
Then anger rushed in on a tide of outrage. “Is this your idea of a joke?” Some kind of mad reality TV show where billionaires humiliate the aristocracy?
“Of course it isn’t a joke.” There was that near amusement in the rich treacle of his voice.
Curiosity broke through and surfaced the haze of anger. “Why? Why would you even suggest something so insane?”
“Because I think marrying you will change Don Carlos’s mind.”
“I told you that I am not for sale. Nor is my title. End of.” Finally her body caught up with events and she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. Tried to ignore the stew of hurt that bubbled under the broth of rage. There was no need for hurt. Why should she care that Rafael Martinez was only after her title? She’d already known that—but somehow the idea he would marry her for it made her feel … icky.
“Wait.” The word was a command. “Please.”
Rafael’s Contract Bride
Nina Milne
NINA MILNE has always dreamed of writing for Mills & Boon—ever since as a child she played library with her mother’s stacks of Mills & Boon romances. On her way to this dream, Nina acquired an English degree, a hero of her own, three gorgeous children and (somehow) an accountancy qualification. She lives in Brighton and has filled her house with stacks of books—her very own real library.
To all the wonderful Dog Rescue charities and organisations who work so hard to find loving homes for dogs (like those included in this book!)
Contents
CORA BROOKES LEANT down to ruffle the Border Collie’s head, and flopped down on the park bench. She adored Flash, just as she adored all the dogs she walked, but piled onto her day job, and on top of the extra accounts work, it meant exhaustion stretched her every muscle—physical and mental.
Still, she should look on the bright side—she had landed an excellent day job—an administrative position at Caversham Castle Hotel, part of Caversham Worldwide Holidays, and Ethan and Ruby Caversham were generous employers. So with her salary and all the extras one day she would be able to pay off the enormous debt that burdened her soul.
Determination banded her chest—she knew that repaying her parents wouldn’t buy their love, or even their affection, but it would make Cora feel a whole lot better about how badly she had let her family down.
Don’t go there, Cora.
Flash’s sharp bark was a welcome relief from her thoughts and she squinted through the light spring mizzle at the tall, lean figure headed purposefully towards her.
Relief made a rapid exit as her forehead scrunched into disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be Rafael Martinez. What would a billionaire Spanish-vineyard-owning playboy be doing in a park in the depths of Cornwall on a drizzly Saturday evening?
For a stupid second her heart skipped the smallest of beats. Hardly surprising—Rafael Martinez no doubt had that effect on the entire female population. Though in her case it wasn’t attraction that caused the skitter effect—it was nerves. Logic told her that he wouldn’t remember her—he’d shown no glimmer of recognition in the handful of times he’d seen her at the Cavershams’. Hadn’t once indicated that he recognised Cora Brookes, Administrative Manager, as being Lady Cora Derwent, daughter of one of aristocracy’s premier families.
And why should he? Cora had never been in the public eye. She had left that to her charismatic siblings, with their good looks and charm. She had kept her carroty-red hair, non-descript features and gaucheness out of the spotlight. Her only claim to distinction was the turquoise-blue of her eyes, and that hardly made her memorable. Plus, she and Rafael hadn’t even been introduced at that one party years ago.
And yet she hunched down on the bench, busied herself with Flash, and prayed he would walk on by.
No such luck. Out of the corner of her eye she espied a pair of denim-clad muscular legs.
‘Cora.’