At the Argentinean Billionaire's Bidding. India Grey

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       Dear Reader

       When I was invited to write one of the books in Mills & Boon’s rugby series I was seriously thrilled. I grew up in a family where rugby was a passion, and from a very young age would go with my dad and my older brother to Murrayfield to watch Scotland internationals. Of course at the time I wasn’t old enough to fully appreciate those magnificent, muscular men, but I guess they must have made a pretty lasting impression, because when I began to write my first Mills & Boon^® novel at the grand old age of thirteen it featured a hero who was a rugby player!

      The book never got finished, and I’ve long since lost the manuscript (handwritten, in a blue exercise book), but I’ve never forgotten the hero, with his aura of constrained power and intense focus. Having the chance to reincarnate him in the form of brooding Argentinean Alejandro D’Arienzo was a bit like rediscovering my first love.

      Rugby is such a hard, sexy game. It demands not only phenomenal physical strength (mmm…hold that thought…) but huge amounts of courage and mental endurance, which I think are all essential ingredients for the perfect hero. My heroine, Tamsin Calthorpe, would definitely agree; she lost her heart to Alejandro when she was just fifteen years old, the first time she set eyes on him out on the rugby pitch. Now, after nine lonely years, she’d actually quite like it back, so she can move on with her life… The trouble is, rugby players are also driven to win at all costs—and Alejandro’s not going to give up anything without a fight!

      This book was such a lot of fun to write—especially the day I spent at Twickenham with two of the lovely editors from Mills & Boon, seeing some of the places that feature in the book. It was great for research, but not so good for my mud and muscle obsession. Oh, dear. Time to rush off for my meeting at Rugby Players Anonymous…

       India

      AT THE ARGENTINEAN BILLIONAIRE’S BIDDING

      BY

      INDIA GREY

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      For my dad (1940–1981) who loved rugby so much,

      and for my mum, who supports me with the same

      unfailing enthusiasm as she supports Scotland.

      With love and thanks.

      PROLOGUE

      TAMSIN paused in front of the mirror, the lipstick held in one hand and the magazine article on ‘How to seduce the man of your dreams’ in the other.

      Subtlety, the article said, is just another word for failure. But, even so, her stomach gave a nervous dip as she realised she hardly recognised the heavy-lidded, glittering eyes, the sharply defined cheekbones and sultry, pouting mouth as her own.

      That was a good thing, right? Because three years of adoring Alejandro D’Arienzo from afar had taught her that there wasn’t much chance of getting beyond ‘hello’ with the man of her dreams without some drastic action.

      There was a quiet knock at the door, and then Serena’s blonde head appeared. ‘Tam, you’ve been ages, surely you must be ready by—’ There was a pause. ‘Oh my God. What in hell’s name have you done to yourself?’

      Tamsin waved the magazine at her sister. ‘It says here I shouldn’t leave anything to chance.’

      Serena advanced slowly into the room. ‘Does it specify you shouldn’t leave much to the imagination, either?’ she croaked. ‘Where did you get that outrageous dress? It’s completely see-through.’

      ‘I altered my Leaver’s Ball dress a bit, that’s all,’ said Tamsin defensively.

      ‘That’s your ball dress?’ Serena gasped. ‘Blimey, Tamsin, if Mama finds out she’ll go mental—you haven’t altered it, you’ve butchered it.’

      Shrugging, Tamsin tossed back her dark-blonde hair and, holding out the thigh-skimming layers of black net, executed an insouciant twirl. ‘So? I just took the silk overskirt off, that’s all.’

      ‘That’s all?’

      ‘Well, I shortened the net petticoat a bit, too. Looks much better, doesn’t it?’

      ‘It certainly looks different,’ said Serena faintly. The strapless, laced bodice of the dress, which had looked reasonably demure when paired with a full, ankle-length skirt, suddenly took on an outrageous bondage vibe when combined with above-the-knee net, black stockings, and the cropped black cardigan her sister was now putting on over the top.

      ‘Good,’ said Tamsin firmly. ‘Because tonight I do not want to be the coach’s pathetic teenage daughter, fresh out of boarding school and never been kissed. Tonight I want to be…’ She broke off to СКАЧАТЬ