Untouched by His Diamonds

Lucy Ellis

Литагент HarperCollins EUR

The only thing this Russian’s money can’t buy… To merciless Russian Serge Marinov, Clementine Chevalier’s Mona Lisa smile and siren’s body could incite a male riot! She’s so bewitching that ground rules are required: he’ll give her nights of endless pleasure – but in the stark light of St Petersburg’s dawn he’ll be gone!Serge is Clementine’s secret fantasy come to life, but she has no interest in money – his diamonds leave her skin cold! So she sets some terms of her own: she won’t be warming his bed until he shows her she’s more than just this magnate’s plaything!

‘Wow,’ she said inadequately as she stepped into sheer luxury. ‘This is—incredible.’

The extravagance of the hotel suite was another reminder of exactly who Serge was. A rich man. Who could buy a great deal to keep himself happy. No doubt including women.

But not this woman. She needed to make that very clear to him. Somehow.

‘I’m not that impressed, you know. Money doesn’t do it for me.’

‘What does do it for you, Clementine?’ He was smiling at her, that big lazy Russian male smile, as if he knew something she didn’t.

‘Honesty,’ she replied. ‘Sincerity.’

The smile darkened to something else.

She’d surprised him.

About the Author

LUCY ELLIS has four loves in life: books, expensive lingerie, vintage films and big, gorgeous men who have to duck going through doorways. Weaving aspects of them into her fiction is the best part of being a romance writer. Lucy lives in a small cottage in the foothills outside Melbourne.

Recent titles by the same author:

INNOCENT IN THE IVORY TOWER

Did you know this title is also available as an ebook? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Untouched by His Diamonds

Lucy Ellis

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

CLEMENTINE did a double-take in front of the ornate windows, almost pressing her nose up to the glass.

Lust—that was what she was feeling. Unadulterated desire.

In the window sat her Anna Karenina fantasy. Thigh-high, fur-lined, suede Russian boots.

She told herself she was only in St Petersburg for one more day after today. She deserved something to remember it by.

Five minutes later she was standing on the worn raspberry-coloured carpet inside, sliding one stockinged foot and then the other into her dream. She felt like Cinderella trying on her glass slippers. The real test was zipping them up above her knees. She was six feet tall and her legs held much of her height. She had shape to them. She had shape to all of her.

She almost gave a whoop of delight when the boots zipped up a treat.

The girl kneeling before her lifted the flaps. ‘They can go higher. Shall we try?’

She spoke English, but in these luxury stores everybody did.

Without hesitation Clementine hitched up her burgundy leather skirt, feeling slightly naughty as she flashed her suspenders. She reached down and pulled the fur-lined suede up and up, to kiss the fleshy curve of her inner thigh.

Her legs looked impossibly long with the leather skirt clinging to her hips. Absorbed in her own reflection, she slung out a leg and stroked the fur meditatively. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of movement behind her in the mirror, and looked up to collide with the gaze of a man standing by the door.

He wasn’t idling in the doorway, lurking. He was purposefully filling the space. Announcing his presence up front. Owning it.

And he was looking right at her.

He had to have a head of height on her, and he was built to go with it, and Clementine would bet her last pair of designer knickers on that size being one hundred per cent lean muscle.

He was quite a sight. They didn’t make men like that any more.

Maybe they had in earlier centuries, when Russian men went into battle with muskets, or even earlier when they needed to club things and skin animals to feed their families. Oh, yes, she could imagine him half naked and marked by cl