Walk on the Wild Side. Natalie Anderson

      Praise for Natalie Anderson

      ‘Natalie Anderson is one of the most exciting voices in steamy romantic fiction writing today. Sassy, witty and emotional… an extraordinary new talent who can blend passion, drama, humour and emotion in one unforgettable read!’

      —www.cataromance.com

      ‘Sizzling chemistry in the boardroom and well-developed characters make this a winner.’

      —RT Book Reviews on

      Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

      ‘This touching love-at-first-sight story is filled with heartfelt emotion, but the real treat is when the characters begin to open up to each other and reveal their secrets as attraction turns to love.’

      —RT Book Reviews on

      Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire

       Also by Natalie Anderson

Caught on Camera with the CEO * Unbuttoned by her Maverick Boss* To Love, Honour and Disobey Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

*Hot Under the Collar duet

       Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      About Natalie Anderson

      Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, NATALIE ANDERSON decided writing books might be more fun than shelving them—and boy, is it that! Especially writing romance—it’s the realisation of a lifetime dream, kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandma’s Mills & Boon^® books…

      She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website any time—she’d love to hear from you: www.natalie-anderson.com

      Walk on the Wild Side

      Natalie Anderson

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Dave, for Kathleen, Henry, Sylvie & Evelyn, and for Mum.

      It just wouldn’t ever happen without your patience, support and love.

      CHAPTER ONE

      ANOTHER red light. Kelsi Reid braked for the fortieth time, muttering beneath her breath as she reached for the comb she’d slung on the passenger seat.

      Probably the rest of the clientele came to the salon looking as if they’d just walked out of another—like magazine models, all coiffed, perfumed and perfect. Kelsi hadn’t done her hair or make-up. She’d only had time to put in some contacts and wriggle her still-damp-from-the-shower body into her dress.

      If only she hadn’t fallen asleep at her desk last night as she’d struggled to get all her work done to be able to take today off. If only she hadn’t woken up to find her hair trailing in the glass of super sticky, high-energy soda beside her. If only she hadn’t frothed the shampoo into such a mass of white bubbles that they’d taken an age to rinse out…

      If only she didn’t have to go at all.

      With the beginnings of a caffeine withdrawal headache, she’d hit every single red light on the way to Merivale—the poshest suburb in Christchurch—the home of L’Essence Spa, and the appointment she’d felt too guilty to be able to cancel.

      If only she didn’t feel like such a fraud.

      Her coworkers and boss had booked it for her. Paid for it. A combi birthday present/reward for working so hard. Lovely thought but the last thing she wanted. She hated mixing it with the beautiful women—because she was so not one of them. With her horrendous colouring combined with her short stature and the minimal curves that only just stopped her from looking completely boyish, she’d suffered years of taunts as a teen—the freak with the father who hadn’t wanted to bother with her either. Fabulous combination made all the more annoying given it had been he who’d donated the gross colour gene in the first place.

      She’d got such an inadequacy thing going she’d actually let her old boyfriend take her to a hairdresser and then shopping afterwards so he could purchase her a whole new look—but she’d still not been pretty enough for him. Years later she still couldn’t believe she’d let a guy take control of her appearance like that.

      In the end she’d rebelled—people thought she looked weird? She’d give them weird. She dressed differently—covering up her almost unnaturally pale skin, covering up her undersized assets, hiding her hair, her eyes, herself. If a man was going to want her, it would be for her mind, or her sense of humour, or fascinating personality or something.

      Not that she’d had a date in ages. But she was too busy with work anyway. And it didn’t help that her coworkers—the only people she actually knew in this town—were in love with the girls with big guns and even bigger boobs who were the heroines of all the computer games they were so addicted to. In other words, not real.

      Kelsi couldn’t compete with the living, breathing beauties of this world, let alone the male fantasy ones, so she didn’t even try.

      But all her workmates—and all of them were male—had thought this was the sort of thing any woman would want—a day of beauty pampering. She knew they’d meant it kindly. They didn’t know about the guy who’d stood and watched every snip of the hairdresser’s scissors trying to shape her into something he thought was more attractive. Now she cut her hair herself.

      Yet she hadn’t the heart to tell them she didn’t want it. She knew how exclusive and expensive that salon was, how well intentioned they’d been. And, hey, there were options other than haircuts and spray-tans—full body massage being the one that had really appealed. And a professional wax was always welcome.

      So here she was. Going there. But even though she’d toned down her clothing for the day, she was still a misfit—with really knotty, home-dyed hair. And she was running late.

      She drove the one hundred metres or so to the next set of traffic lights. They were annoyingly close together here in the middle of the city. And they were red again. Of course.

      She lifted her arm and targeted the biggest mess of knots at the back of her head. The bird’s nest of unruly curls sprang into being any moment it was freed from the product she religiously used. She had a tube of it in her bag and she’d swipe some in as soon as she could get the comb clear through. But that was apparently impossible today. She bent her head forward and ruthlessly pulled on the comb, screwing her eyes shut as it hurt. Yeah, not good for the hair that was so temperamental anyway, but she had no choice. But as she gave an extra vicious tug her whole body jerked—including her foot, which had been pushing hard on the brake. It slipped right off the pedal. The car slid forward half a metre.

      Right into the pedestrian crossing the road.

      Kelsi heard the thump. She heard the cut off curse. She heard her own shriek.

      She slammed her foot back on the brake and the car jerked. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands, for a split second frozen, shock riveting her to the seat.

      The only thing moving was her stomach—rocking violently,