"ufb4aa6ee-7799-509f-9f8a-c74d77cb3547">
Table of Contents
“We have unfinished business.”
The only unfinished business she was aware they had was the time she had spent in his arms—and she certainly had no intention of finishing that! “I don’t think so.” Joy shook her head. What did Marcus Ballantyne think she was? Did he really believe she was a woman who had a string of lovers? And did he want to be one of them?
“I want you, Joy.” Marcus spoke almost angrily. “I’ve tried to put you out of my mind, but it just isn’t possible. I want you. And I intend to have you. Exclusively,” he added grimly.
Joy stared up at him. He didn’t want to be one of her lovers, he wanted to be the one— and the only one!
CAROLE MORTIMER is the youngest of three children and grew up in a small English village with her parents and two brothers. She still loves nothing better than going “home” to visit her family. She has three very active sons, four cats, and a dog, which doesn’t leave her a lot of time for hobbies! She has written almost one hundred romance novels for Harlequin.
The One and Only
Carole Mortimer
Peter—
Eternity
WHAT a bore!
God, how had she ever got herself into this? She hadn’t—Casey had got her into it. As usual. It was typical of Casey: he had been getting her into one scrape or another all their lives.
But this time he had excelled himself.
It had all sounded so simple when he had explained it to her a couple of weeks ago. She should have known then—nothing was ever simple where Casey was concerned.
First prize in a Valentine competition. A week’s stay in a luxurious hotel, plus a show and supper on Valentine’s night with a television star.
‘It sounds marvellous, Casey,’ Joy had told him distractedly when he called round for dinner with her one evening.
‘Bad day at the library?’ Casey had quirked curious brows at her, blue eyes alight with mischief. Again, as usual.
How could anyone have a ‘bad day’ working in a library? And yet, as Casey very well knew, too many of Joy’s working days were fraught with tension. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers—and she needed the job. Even with all its problems.
Her grimace in Casey’s direction, as he had leant so casually against one of the kitchen units as he watched her prepare their meal, had told its own story.
‘You should have left months ago—sorry.’ Casey had held his hands up apologetically as Joy glared up at him warningly. ‘I know I promised after— well, after, that I wouldn’t say I told you so—’
‘And you’ve done nothing but since!’ she had snapped, her eyes sparkling deeply green.
‘Only because you will insist on sticking it out there, putting yourself through unnecessary grief, wasting your love on someone who…Well, this competition is just what you need to cheer you up.’ He had hastily changed the subject as he saw the light of battle in Joy’s eyes.
At five feet two she might be a foot shorter than he was, but he knew that, if he pushed too much, the temper that matched her red hair would surely surface. It might take time, but it did surface.
‘Cheer me up?’ She frowned as she realised what he had said. ‘What does it have to do with me?’
‘Well, I can hardly go on this week’s holiday, to the show and then supper, so I naturally thought you might like to go instead of me. And—’
‘Just stop there, Casey,’ Joy interrupted drily, abandoning the dinner for a moment, sensing that she needed to give the whole of her attention to what Casey was saying—otherwise she could, as she had many times in the past, find herself in a situation she would rather not be in.
The two of them were cousins but, because both sets of their parents had been working, they had spent most school holidays together, staying at their mutual grandparents’ house, and had grown up more like brother and sister. And Joy had spent most of that time getting Casey out of the scrapes he had managed to get himself into, or ones he had embroiled her in. Life without Casey, she had decided long ago, would be a lot lonelier, but it would also be a lot more trouble-free. And she sensed one of Casey’s impending scrapes…!
‘Why can’t you go on the holiday, Casey?’ She looked at him searchingly, not fooled for a moment by the innocent expression on his boyishly handsome face. With his dark curly hair, laughing blue eyes and rakishly handsome face, Casey had a look of uncomplicated innocence—but Joy knew, from experience, that it was just a look. ‘And to the show and supper afterwards? I would have thought it would have been just up your street to go and wallow in the lap of luxury, to go out for the evening with some beautifully ravishing television star, on Valentine’s night, of all nights. You—’
“The television star is Danny Eames, Joy,’ Casey cut in drily.
‘Danny Eames?’ she repeated frowningly. ‘But Danny Eames is a—’
‘Man,’ her cousin finished impatiently. ‘Of course he’s