Jane Sigaloff

Lost and Found


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      Praise for Jane Sigaloff’s

      Name & Address Withheld:

      “This book is the perfect antidote to Christmas

      get-togethers. Escape to a comfy chair and enjoy!”

      —Company

      “Sigaloff’s first novel is without doubt

      an engaging romantic comedy!”

      —Booklist

      “Witty, juicy and romantic—a clever, controversial

       comedy about finding love in all the wrong places.”

      —Bestselling author Sarah Mlynowski

      “Moving and cleverly written…

      a great present for a girlfriend in need of some love

      advice (we all have one of these).”

      —handbag.com

      “4½ stars… Sigaloff has an interesting

      take on the relationship conundrum.”

      —funkybitch.com

      “Unusually daring in its approach…”

      —The Big Issue

      Jane Sigaloff

      was born in London and, despite brief trips into the countryside, Jane has always been a city girl at heart. After studying history at Oxford University she entered the allegedly glamorous world of television, beginning her career as tea and coffee coordinator for Nickelodeon U.K. After she progressed to researcher and then to assistant producer, her contracts took her to MTV and finally to the BBC where she worked for over three years.

      Since 2000, Jane has enjoyed a double life as a part-time P.A., which has given her more time to write and feel guilty about not going to the gym. She lives in London with her laptop and ever-expanding CD collection. Lost & Found is her second novel.

      Find out more about Jane at: www.janesigaloff.com

      By the same author:

      Name & Address Withheld

      Lost & Found

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      Jane Sigaloff

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      In a concerted attempt to be more concise than last time, immeasurable thanks and much love to my friends and family for their unwavering support, for listening (or at least making encouraging noises while thinking about other things), for their positivity and for ensuring that the life of this writer is by no means a solitary one.

      In particular:

      Omi—my PR granny extraordinaire. Kate—for always being there for me (and for valiant shelf patrol). Charlotte—for indispensable and immediate fast-talking advice. Louise, Alice, Gemma, Mandy, Fred and all at the Barnes Ladies Writing Circle—it wouldn’t be as much fun without you. Marten Foxon, the most flexible boss in London—for employing the only part-time part-time P.A., for being grammatically pedantic and for tales of the city. Melissa, Stuart and Clodagh—for providing insight into life as a lawyer and answering all my questions with due consideration. Peter French and Alex Tscherne at the Carlyle Hotel, New York, for unrivaled hospitality.

      As always, thanks to my agent, Carole Blake, to Sam Bell for editorial prowess and keeping me focused, to Claire Sawford for PR duties and to the whole Red Dress Ink team who have worked so hard on my behalf both in the U.K. and North America.

      For my parents—

      all of them

      and

      for Paul—

      my little big brother and partner in crime

      since 1975.

      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

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

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      Chapter One

      ‘Something to drink, sir?’

      ‘We’ll have champagne…’

      Sam hid behind her eyelids. She’d closed them for the steep climb from JFK and must have slipped straight into a power nap. But now she was very much awake. And listening. Taittinger + senior supervising partner (flirting) + altitude of 38,000 feet = certain recipe for disaster.

      ‘Just a still mineral water for me, please.’ Opening her eyes, Sam automatically ran a finger along her bottom lashes to remove any smudges of mascara, whilst flexing her calves and curling and uncurling her toes to prevent the onset of DVT. If she focused on her legs she was almost sure she could feel that the blood flow was a little sluggish in the bended knee area. Hypochondria in action. Sometimes knowledge was definitely not a good thing.

      ‘Oh, come on, let’s celebrate.’ Richard punched her arm playfully. Regrettably, despite the extra room in business