4ec3e3cd-cec5-5c60-8c3d-8edb6259d195">
Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred
and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than
forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,
passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Shattered Illusions
Anne Mather
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHE shouldn’t have come.
The feeling grew stronger every minute she was kept waiting in this beautiful room, which was nothing like any office she had ever imagined.
But office it was, despite the drifting clouds of chiffon at the long windows. A place where Catriona Redding wrote her very successful novels, regardless of the famous paintings that looked down from the silk-hung walls.
Jaime drew a steadying breath.
The desk alone must have cost a small fortune. A singular slab of polished granite, its surface was strewn with the evidence of Catriona Redding’s profession. Files, books, a veritable plethora of pens and pencils; Jaime already knew that she preferred to write her books in longhand, and who could blame her? Sitting in this room, which reflected the light of the huge outdoor pool that flanked it, with the sweep of Copperhead Bay beyond, the clatter of keys would have been an intrusion, even from the computer that Jaime would be expected to employ.
If she was taken on for the probationary two weeks...
And she was by no means certain that she would be. Although she had passed the preliminary interview with Catriona Redding’s agent in London, she had still to meet the woman herself, had still to be approved by her proposed employer. It had been made clear to her from the outset that Catriona Redding would make the final decision. For all she was here in Bermuda, the job still hung in the balance.
She cast another look about her, wondering if leaving her here in this impressive apartment was intended to intimidate her. She knew so little about the woman she had come here to meet, and the longer she remained in isolation, the more doubtful about her own motives she became.
What was she doing here? she asked herself. What did she hope to achieve? Did she really want to be Catriona Redding’s secretary, even briefly? She was a lecturer in English, for heaven’s sake. It was years since she’d taken orders from anyone.
She knew the obvious answer, of course. She wanted to meet Catriona Redding. She wanted to meet her, and get to know her in an unthreatening capacity, to try and find out why she’d done what she had. It had seemed the easiest—if not the wisest—way of achieving her ambitions, without embarrassing either herself or Catriona Redding. If she was taken on, she’d worry about her choices then. For now, she was content to take one day at a time.
Or she had been until a rather snooty housekeeper had shown her into Catriona Redding’s study...
The instructions she had been given in London had been explicit. She was to regard this interview—at Catriona Redding’s luxury estate in Bermuda—as a preliminary to being given two weeks’ probationary tenure. In consequence, she had been advised to bring her immediate needs with her, and should the position be made permanent she should make arrangements for the rest of her belongings to be sent on.
Which had seemed reasonable enough, and Jaime had quite enjoyed the unfamiliar trip across the Atlantic. She’d always liked flying, and her seat in the British Airways jet had been very comfortable. Had she not had a germ of apprehension beavering away in the pit of her stomach, she might have been able to appreciate the trip for its own sake. She had never crossed the Atlantic before, and although Bermuda was not a West Indian island it was situated nearer to the American continent than anywhere else.
And that was probably why she was feeling so uneasy now, she decided. The holidays she’d taken in Europe had not prepared her for the effects of jet lag, and although it was a sunny evening here in Bermuda her body clock was telling her it was already after eleven. She was tired. That was why so many doubts were