His Christmas Eve Proposal. Кэрол Мортимер

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СКАЧАТЬ had turned at the first sound of the unmistakable, sexily husky voice of the actor Joshua Hawkley, taking in a sharp breath as she found herself gazing upon his nakedness.

      Joshua Hawkley, thirty-five years old, the most sought-after film star in the world for over a decade, was standing in front of her—gorgeously, gloriously and magnificently naked!

      Her throat felt dry, her lips and tongue numb, as she continued to stare at him with wide green eyes.

      She had never been the sort of teenager—had never been allowed to be the sort of teenager!—who’d hung posters of pop and film stars on her bedroom wall. But if she had, this man would definitely have had pride of position!

      Joshua Hawkley—or simply Hawk to his friends—at a height well over six feet, had a body Adonis would have been envious of: his shoulders were wide and muscular, and dark hair grew on the broadness of his chest and down over the flatness of his stomach to—

      Wow.

      Gasp.

      Whoa!

      A sudden rush of saliva moistened her throat and mouth as she found it impossible to remove her gaze from his perfect manhood.

      As if becoming aware of the avidness of her gaze, Hawk moved one hand to casually pull the towel from his shoulders before draping and fastening it about his waist.

      Rosie blinked, as if waking from a spell, before dragging her eyes back up to his face. Colour warmed her cheeks at the knowing smile curving those sculptured lips in a face that could have—should have—been carved by Michelangelo. A face dominated by cobalt-blue eyes above a long aquiline nose, that lazily smiling mouth and the strongly squared jaw. Long dark hair, damp and dishevelled after his shower, did absolutely nothing to dispel his air of masculine perfection, only adding to his ruggedness.

      ‘I have absolutely no idea how you got in here,’ Hawk bit out impatiently as the girl continued to stare at him unblinkingly. ‘But I seriously advise you to get yourself out again!’ he added, with none of the tolerance he usually felt towards his more enthusiastic female fans.

      This was his bolt-hole, damn it, and it shouldn’t even be public knowledge, let alone accessible to some desperate woman who had got in here because she either wanted to share his bed or use a relationship with him to acquire a movie role!

      How on earth had she got past Donald?

      The girl—for she was no more than that, Hawk was sure, despite her height and the fullness of her breasts and those curvaceous hips—moistened the sensual softness of her pouting lips.

      Her eyes, between lush dark lashes, were a deep, mesmerising green, her nose was small and pert, and covered with a smattering of freckles and her chin was stubbornly pointed in a heart-shaped face. And all of her elfin beauty was surrounded by that long flame of pre-Raphaelite-style hair.

      At any other time, Hawk knew, he would have found her untamed beauty fascinating. But not when she had invaded the privacy of his home. Not just his home, but his bedroom, for heaven’s sake!

      ‘If you aren’t out of here in two minutes I’ll have no choice but to forcibly remove you,’ he warned her harshly, and he ran an impatient hand through his tousled hair, his previous good humour having completely evaporated, to be replaced by impatient anger at this girl’s intrusion.

      She moistened her lips a second time before speaking, those green eyes huge and haunting. ‘If you would just let me explain, Mr Hawkley—’ Her voice was throatily soft, her accent distinctly English.

      ‘Keep your explanation and just get out of here!’ he cut in irritably, his gaze narrowing suddenly as he saw the tray bearing a cafetière and coffee cups on the bedside table. She must have brought it in with her. ‘Where’s Donald?’ he rasped suspiciously.

      ‘That’s what I was trying to explain,’ Rosie answered, with some relief.

      ‘You were?’ His stance was challenging now, muscles rippling as he folded his arms across his chest.

      He really was as gorgeous as he looked on screen, Rosie acknowledged slightly breathlessly, and his semi-nakedness made him more immediately so in the intimacy and privacy of his bedroom.

      But it was also pretty obvious from Joshua Hawkley’s comments that he was in complete ignorance of who she was or what she was doing here. That Donald hadn’t told his employer that she was even staying here.

      Joshua Hawkley’s aggression was understandable now that she realised he had thought she was an intruder—an over-enthusiastic female fan?—in his home.

      She shrugged. ‘My—er—I don’t know if you noticed, but Donald wasn’t at all well yesterday when he picked you up from the airport…’ She grimaced as Hawk gave a puzzled shake of his head. ‘No? Well, this morning he woke up shivering and with a high temperature. I think he probably has the flu,’ she finished.

      Three things became obvious to Hawk from that statement.

      First, this girl knew exactly who Donald was, and so wasn’t an intruder at all.

      Second, she had come to an abrupt halt after beginning her statement with ‘My—’

      And third, perhaps she didn’t need to complete it. She had obviously been around to see what Donald had looked like when he woke up that morning…!

       CHAPTER TWO

      IN THE light of those realisations, Hawk re-evaluated the young woman standing beside his sleep-tousled bed.

      She looked vaguely familiar to him—as if he should know her… Where had he seen her before? He knew he had never met her.

      And obviously she was here to see Donald…

      She had to be in her early twenties—but then Donald was only in his early forties. A twenty-year-odd age difference wasn’t an insurmountable barrier.

      Hawk had never found the need to discuss Donald’s private life with him, but he supposed that his assistant must have one. He knew that the older man liked to listen to classical music, and that when their schedule allowed Donald took off to go to live concerts in one part of the world or another.

      But, despite his cultured tastes, there was still no doubting that Donald—even with his prematurely white hair—was still an attractive guy, and in possession of all normal male needs.

      Even so, Donald could have warned Hawk that he had invited a female guest to stay when Hawk had returned home last night. Donald had arrived two days earlier, so that he could prepare and warm the farmhouse for his employer’s arrival.

      Hawk scowled, feeling at something of a disadvantage now, after his first assumptions about this lady. ‘Does Donald need to see a doctor?’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ Rosie shook her head, somewhat relieved that Hawk wasn’t probing for intimate details of her relationship with his long-term employee. ‘I’ve given him some medication to bring his temperature down, so he probably just needs to go back to sleep for a while. Something he’s loath to do without speaking to you first,’ she added. The reason for Donald’s urgent СКАЧАТЬ