The Brazilian's Blackmail Bargain. ABBY GREEN

      TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

       AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

       For Susie Q and again Lynn my patron saints.

      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      PROLOGUE

      London, November

      MAGGIE HOLLAND stood just on the other side of the revolving door, the late November darkness throwing the glittering lights of the exclusive London hotel into sharp relief. Her heart was in her mouth, legs shaking, hands clammy and a trickle of sweat ran down her back. Her head ached where pins held the thick mass of curls on top of her head and, with a visibly trembling hand, she pulled the too short mac more tightly around her body. The cold wind whistled around her exposed legs but couldn’t shock her out of the stupor that seemed to have taken control of her body.

      A couple clambered out of a cab on the street just behind her and, in a flurry of doormen, luggage and broken German on the cuttingly cold breeze, she knew she had to move into the lobby just behind the glass or move aside and let them pass.

      The stupor passed; reality rushed in. Taking a deep breath, she didn’t move aside, much as she wanted to, but pushed the revolving door and stepped into the warm foyer.

      She saw him as soon as she walked in. Impossible to miss him; he would draw the eye of anyone with a pulse.

      He was standing facing away from her, talking to someone, so hadn’t noted her arrival and she was glad of the respite. A chance, however flimsy, to gather herself and her exposed nerves. And a chance to observe him for a moment.

      He stood with hands in his pockets, making the material of his tailored trousers run taut over his behind, drawing attention to a powerful physique that was more like that of an athlete in his prime than a corporate tycoon worth millions…some even said billions. A tycoon who had a fearsome reputation as one of the most innovative and powerful in Europe.

      Caleb Cameron hadn’t existed in her world until two weeks ago, when she’d met him at her stepfather’s house for the first time. Never an enthusiastic visitor unless requested by her mother, that had been one of those times when Maggie’s mother had begged her for some support. He had been one of a few assorted businessmen who in the last two weeks had conducted intense meetings with her stepfather. And having been there nearly every day to help her mother hostess, Maggie’s every waking and sleeping thought had quickly become filled with this dynamic man, and still the disbelief that he could possibly be interested in her. Proof of which was this date tonight.

      Her mouth compressed. A date which had been hijacked for other ends.

      Maggie swallowed with difficulty. She couldn’t escape what she had to do. She knew that with an awful fatality. But…surely he would see through her in a second? She almost hoped he would. He had a rapier-sharp intellect. And yet she was somehow expected to…no, had been ordered to be the one to…Her mind shut down; she felt sick again and shut her eyes briefly.

      All she wanted to do was turn around and walk back out of the door. But she couldn’t. If she didn’t go through with this, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about and affected the one person dearest to her. She had no choice.

      ‘Maggie.’

      Her eyes snapped open. How had she not heard him approach? An impression struck her of a large, lethal, graceful jungle cat. She strove for calm, straightening her spine.

      ‘Caleb, I’m sorry. I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.’

      He skimmed a look up and down, leaving her a little breathless, a broad shoulder lifted negligently. ‘A few minutes is a pleasant surprise. I’ve been kept waiting for longer.’

      Somehow Maggie knew that was a lie. No woman would keep this man waiting. His penetrating blue gaze held hers captive. She couldn’t look away and that familiar boneless feeling permeated her, making her blood slow and throb through her veins. This was the effect he had had on her ever since she’d laid eyes on him. When she’d been innocent of the part she was being primed to play in her stepfather’s Machiavellian plans. When she’d been aware of nothing more than Caleb…as a man…not someone who had to be betrayed, ruined…plundered for his wealth.

      And now…seduced.

      Looking up at him, her mind was scrambled. For a second she could almost fool herself into thinking that what was outside didn’t exist. Maybe this really could just be the simple date he’d asked her on…with no agenda. That thought made her breathless with a dangerous excitement. She wasn’t aware of the slight ironic smile that touched her lips at her wishful thinking. After tonight she’d never see him again and that made her insides feel hollow.

      An icy gleam lit Caleb’s eyes for a split second, but then it was gone, replaced with benign politeness. ‘Shall we? The dinner table is ready…’

      Maggie’s heart plummeted. This was it…no turning back. ‘Fine.’

      On wooden legs she preceded him through the foyer to the doors at the other end. She felt as though she was walking to the guillotine. And then, to compound it, the heavy room key in her pocket brushed against her leg. Nausea clawed her stomach again. The key to the room upstairs that had been booked by her stepfather. The scene where the seduction was to take place. He even had his man there somewhere, in the shadows, watching, monitoring proceedings…to make sure one or the other didn’t leave too soon. Before the damage could be done.

      Dear God. How could she do this?

      At the door to the dining room she felt Caleb’s fingers on her shoulders. She half turned, acutely aware of the bare scrap of lace she was wearing. The excuse for a dress that he had bought for her to wear. She wanted to halt the inevitable slide of the coat from her shoulders even as the maître d’ came forward to take it. Panic rose. She couldn’t do this…she couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear to see the reaction on Caleb’s face when he saw her outfit.

      She was wearing a slip. That was all. He’d seen more clothes on a lap dancer. It didn’t suit her pale colouring. The rich red hair was pinned up, making his fingers itch to take it down. A curious burning disappointment licked through his veins as he realised that, even in the cheapest outfit, she still had the power to ignite forceful desire in his body. The tingling awareness of which was making itself very apparent. And something else licked through him too. Self-derision. For a brief moment, before he had found out who she was, or what was going on, he had thought…He tried to stop his thoughts going in that direction. But his mind refused to obey.

      When he had first met her, something deep and hidden and unknown had been touched. He had been shaken out of his usual cynical inertia. She had looked at him that first time with such sweet shyness and had then smiled. That smile had captured self-deprecation at her response, the current of sexual awareness running between them and something so intangible…but so innocently feminine,