Surrender To A Playboy. Renee Roszel
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“I’m sorry.”
His lips stroked hers erotically as he made the apology.
Mary tried to work up some indignation, but she couldn’t. She’d never been kissed like that before.
“It was wrong of me.” He ground out the words. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I’d never done anything like that before?”
He was right. Mary didn’t believe that. Telling her such a bold-faced lie, while managing to look irresistibly anguished and angry with himself, required a lot of talent—and, unquestionably, a great deal of experience!
Did this carousing Boston playboy think his innocent act would really work for a man with such a notorious reputation? Did he think because she was an unsophisticated, small-town girl she’d be easy pickings?
Dare to dream…
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• Is she a high-flying executive…but all she wants is a baby?
• Has she met her ideal man—if only he wasn’t her new boss…?
• Is she about to marry, but is secretly in love with someone else?
• Or does she simply long to be slimmer, more glamorous, with a whole new wardrobe?
Whatever she wants, each heroine finds happiness on her own terms—and unexpected romance along the way. And she’s about to discover whether Mr. Right is the answer to her dreams—or if he has a few questions of his own!
Enjoy Surrender to a Playboy by Renee Roszel.
And look out for This Baby….#3756 by Caroline Anderson.
Surrender to a Playboy
Renee Roszel
MILLS & BOON
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For Shirley Casey, Doug Shipe and Barbara Bancroft Richardson, fab folks who came when I yelled, “Help!”
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
THE moment Taggart Lancaster stepped out of his rental car he would become an impostor—a black sheep and prodigal son—returning home after an absence of sixteen years.
Taggart stared out through the windshield at the elegant Victorian home with its wooden gingerbread and angled bay windows, a russet jewel in a setting of evergreen. Clutching the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension, he cursed himself. What was he doing? What had possessed him to agree to such a wild stunt?
His gaze drifted over the turreted and steeply gabled roof. Moody and silent, he took in the high-country beauty of the American Rocky Mountains, an unspoiled wilderness of piney forests, striated cliffs, steep divides and rainbowed waterfalls. Distant, snowcapped peaks loomed in all directions, soaring into a boundless summer sky.
Bonner Wittering, Taggart’s oldest friend and most time-consuming legal client, had said Colorado’s Rockies were beautiful. Taggart was reminded of the Swiss Alps, and the remote boarding school, where they both grew up. A wave of nostalgia washed over him and he fought it off. That “we-two-against-the-world” baggage is what got him into this mess.
He did need a vacation, though. That had been another of Bonner’s arguments. The way things stood, Bonner couldn’t come, couldn’t leave Boston as a condition of his bail. Due to the fact that Bonn owned a condo in Paris, the court felt he represented a flight risk.
As Bonner’s lawyer, Taggart knew how unamused bail bondsmen were when one of their clients jumped bail. As an officer of the court, Taggart couldn’t allow Bonner to leave town. Which Bonn swore was exactly what he’d do if given no other choice.
Taggart shook his head, muttering, “I must be nuts.” Nobody else on earth could have talked him into such a bizarre plan. But Taggart and Bonn were closer than most real brothers. Unfortunately for Taggart’s argument against the plan, they actually did look enough alike to be mistaken for siblings.
“Bonn, old buddy, I can’t decide who’s the bigger fool,” he groused. “You, for being such a gullible boob, or me, for agreeing to this—this idiocy.”
He spent another interminable moment strangling the leather-swathed steering wheel. “It’s no crime to do a favor for a friend,” he muttered. “You’re