The Millionaire's Love-Child

"NO, NO! It's not true! I don't believe you!"

Annie swung away, towards the window, her bare shoulders stiffening in rejection of the man's devastating statement. Beneath the dark strands of her fringe, bewildered brown eyes stared out on the small square of garden that formed the rear of her terraced London flat, at the low boundary wall where the long-haired tabby crouched, poised to eject any other exploring cat from its territory. "You've got to be joking. Tell me it's just some cruel joke. That you're making it up. You are, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, Annie." Behind her, those deep masculine tones were soft, yet unrelenting. "If I could have found an easier way to tell you, believe me, I would have."

"Don't you think I'd know?" Her thick layered hair bounced against her shoulders as she pivoted to face the man again, disbelief and confusion stamped on the pale oval of her face.

For a few seconds her eyes read—what? Sympathy, in the green-gold depths of his? Some emotion that softened those angular features with their forceful jaw and that hawk-like nose which, with his sleek black hair and the immaculate ... read full excerpt from: The Millionaire's Love-Child ebook