Public Marriage, Private Secrets

HELEN BIANCHIN

Ra?l. Ex-lover, estranged husband…and the man she had fervently hoped never to see again. Dear heaven. What was he doing here?

Gianna lingered a little too long on his mouth. The sensual curve revived a host of memories she fought hard to control. Vivid, primitive…so much so she could almost feel the touch of his lips, the wicked sweep of his tongue.

Oh, God. The silent despairing groan remained locked in her throat. Don’t go there. It took all her effort to tilt her head a little and summon a wry smile.

She glimpsed a muscle bunch above the edge of his jaw and felt a moment of satisfaction as she enjoyed the small visible sign of his tension too.

‘What brings you here, Ra?l?’

One eyebrow lifted in cynical query. ‘You.’

Public Marriage, Private Secrets

By

Helen Bianchin

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

About the Author

HELEN BIANCHIN was born in New Zealand and travelled to Australia before marrying her Italian-born husband. After three years they moved, returned to New Zealand with their daughter, had two sons and then resettled in Australia. Encouraged by friends to recount anecdotes of her years as a tobacco share farmer’s wife living in an Italian community, Helen began setting words on paper and her first novel was published in 1975. An animal lover, she says her terrier and Persian cat regard her study as as much theirs as hers.

Chapter One

GIANNA exited her Main Beach apartment block and walked the short distance to where the Pacific ocean’s incoming tide brought rolling waves crashing gently into shore. The early morning sky was pale blue and cloudless, the spring sunshine promising warmth.

Change is good, Gianna assured herself, as she stepped onto the pale golden sand.

Although why she’d chosen a jog along the beach instead of her customary session in a local gym wasn’t something she was prepared to examine in any depth.

The phase of the moon? A restless night due to intrusive dreams?

Whatever…Being outside in fresh sea air held an appeal, and here she was, ready to banish any lingering demons.

Forty minutes of exercise, coffee-to-go to kick-start the day, before returning to her apartment to shower, breakfast, dress and leave for work.

Bellissima, the luxury gift boutique she owned in one of the Gold Coast’s trendiest suburbs, had gained a favourable reputation for its mix of imported and local stock. Exquisite scented candles, beautiful soaps, ornamental glassware, small sculptures whose graceful lines in crystal, ebony and silver drew attention. Embroidered napkins on fine Irish linen, silk pillow-covers, quality gift cards were just some of the wares she offered for sale.

Fate had provided the opportunity for her to purchase the boutique almost a year after being employed as manager during the owner’s absence. Now, two years on, a new shop-fit, quality stock, a twice-yearly catalogue, and turnover had increased dramatically.

Life, Gianna reflected as she broke into a jog along the tightly packed sand, was good. At the age of twenty-eight she owned a successful business, an apartment, and she had carved out a satisfactory existence.

Moved on, she assured herself as a faint sea breeze caressed her skin, from the break-up of her brief marriage to the powerful Spaniard she’d met four years ago at a party during a holiday in Mallorca.

Ra?l Velez-Salda?a.

In his late thirties, tall, dark, ruggedly attractive…and dangerous to any woman’s peace of mind.

Who could resist him? What woman would want to?

One look was all it had taken for her to melt into an ignominious puddle at his feet. Well, not quite.

She’d fought him at first, then herself. Knowing even then if she succumbed she’d be lost…completely, utterly.

Gianna shivered despite the increasing warmth of the sun as she headed south along the shoreline.

What they had shared had been more than just sex. It had been intimacy at its zenith…intense, mesmeric, primitive. Six perfect months together, living in the moment, unable to bear being apart.

A time when Ra?l h