Secret Baby, Convenient Wife
Dervla's skirt lifted in the updraft as the helicopter carrying their guests lifted off. Her husband—it had taken her three months before she could use the term even in the privacy of her own thoughts—laughed huskily, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he watched her frenzied efforts to smooth the fabric back down modestly over her thighs.
She gave him a half-hearted glare, avoiding prolonged exposure to those mocking eyes because mingled in with the amusement was a glint of insolent sexual challenge that made her hand shake slightly as she lifted it to smooth her tousled red hair into a semblance of order—never an easy objective to achieve where her wayward pre-Raphaelite curls were concerned.
Gianfranco made no attempt to restore order to his own mussed dark hair, but he looked gorgeous anyway.
With his glorious vibrant Mediterranean colouring, dark fallen-angel features and six-foot-five lean, muscle-packed frame, Gianfranco Bruni could not not look gorgeous if he tried!
Gorgeous in a way that triggered a hot hormonal rush and made the muscles low in Dervla's pelvis tighten when she looked at him; gorgeous in a way that never failed ... read full excerpt from Secret Baby, Convenient Wife ebook
