Sleeping with the Soldier

Sleeping with the Soldier
Charlotte Phillips

A sleepless night too many!All Lara Connor knows about the hot-as-sin guy who lives above her is that his nocturnal activities are keeping her awake. A lot. Fed up – and not at all jealous! – she decides to confront the man head-on. Big mistake! Because, face to face, Lara sees just why so many women fall into Alex’s bed!Nights have been sheer torture for ex-soldier Alex ever since he returned from active duty, but he’s not about to share that with Lara. But, when she becomes his unexpected flatmate, temptation personified is sleeping in the room next door and keeping his distance is going to be difficult. Impossible. In fact… it’s the perfect opportunity to show her just why sleep is so overrated…The Flat in Notting Hill - Love and lust in the city that never sleeps!

THE FLAT IN NOTTING HILL

Love and lust in the city that never sleeps!

Izzy, Tori and Poppy are living the London dream—sharing a big flat in Notting Hill, they have good jobs, wild nights out … and each other.

They couldn’t be more different, but one thing is for sure: when they start falling in love they’re going to be very glad they’ve got such good friends around to help them survive the rollercoaster …!

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE by Nikki Logan

SLEEPING WITH THE SOLDIER by Charlotte Phillips

YOUR BED OR MINE? by Joss Wood

ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS by Louisa George

Don’t miss this fabulous new continuity from Modern Tempted

!

Dear Reader (#u5ab1186d-b3c2-5668-bb24-ccc7b8c740f0)

Well, here we are again—but this time I’m part of a team! This is the first book I’ve ever written in collaboration with other authors, and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did planning and writing it.

Writing is usually very solitary—just me and my laptop—but with this book I’ve had three other fab authors to brainstorm and chat with. We shared photos and decor plans for the flat in Notting Hill, and bounced around ideas for the café where all the flatmates meet up.

The best bit has been seeing glimpses of Lara and Alex in the other books in The Flat in Notting Hill series. For once the road to happy-ever-after for my couple isn’t the limit of their story, and I can see a bigger picture of their friendships and their lives together. Add to that the wonderful vibrancy of the Notting Hill setting and this story really leapt off the page for me. I hope it does for you too!

Love

Charlotte x

CHARLOTTE PHILLIPS has been reading romantic fiction since her teens, and she adores upbeat stories with happy endings. Writing them for Mills & Boon

is her dream job. She combines writing with looking after her fabulous husband, two teenagers, a four-year-old and a dachshund. When something has to give, it’s usually housework. She lives in Wiltshire.

Sleeping with the Soldier

Charlotte Phillips

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

DEDICATION (#u5ab1186d-b3c2-5668-bb24-ccc7b8c740f0)

For Sam, who keeps me smiling when I think I’m rubbish. I am so proud of you.

Table of Contents

Cover (#u49d92909-973f-5a6d-9ae1-dfbcfe3262d8)

Dear Reader (#ulink_8600006b-c02f-527a-8798-07b537244da1)

About the Author (#u6ecb2cbb-b575-5340-aae5-50b2f606026e)

Title Page (#u0c531d7c-e83d-529d-b0dd-191428cf209f)

DEDICATION (#ulink_e4a88b8f-ef78-5961-bd3a-bdd12632b251)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_5c4b8372-b4e9-5faa-b632-ccdb2f6b29de)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c6d7b959-c4ea-563b-abcd-80c2f7976485)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_51b435d4-62bf-5a2b-877f-aeac0f413cb6)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f53f9b52-2690-5b83-ab51-c3d3e4306193)

LARA CONNOR WAS aiming to corner the rich Notting Hill market in boutique lingerie and she wasn’t about to achieve that heady dream with French knickers that looked as if a club-fingered chimp had sewn them together.

She stared in disbelief at the mass of pale pink silk and delicate lace now rucked up in a tangle of mad stitches beneath the foot of her sewing machine and gritted her teeth hard enough to make her jaw ache. Above her head the banging started again with a new urgency that really brought out the hostility in her.

She liked to think she was a glass-half-full kind of person, laid-back, live and let live, default mood: happy. But the noise pollution emanating from the flat above all night, every night, had meant her sleep had been broken for weeks now. Tiredness had pushed her normally sunny attitude to the brink of her patience and, frankly, if it didn’t stop now, murder might be on the cards.

She lifted the foot of the machine, disentangled the ball of expensive fabric from the needle and examined it. Beyond saving. She lobbed it across the room into the ‘remnants’ bin. The knickers weren’t even salvageable enough to go into the ‘seconds’ bin. And having sunk every penny into this venture, she couldn’t afford to keep slipping up like this. The ‘remnants’ bin was looking far too full for her liking, and it was all the fault of the Lothario upstairs, who apparently couldn’t let a day pass by without getting laid.

The clanking and banging in the pipes had begun a few weeks ago, not long after Lara had moved in. The sudden increase in noise coincided with the return of the soldier brother of Poppy, who owned the flat upstairs. Lara had got to know Poppy quite well over the last four or five weeks, and her flatmate, Izzy. A brief hello on the stairs had quickly progressed to coffee and chat in the downstairs café. Both girls were excited to hear about Lara’s lingerie designs. Izzy had even bought a couple of samples. On her own in a new place, Lara was especially pleased to have made friends. If only Poppy’s brother could have a smidge of her consideration.

Sitting in Ignite, the ground-floor café, while Lara updated her blog courtesy of the free Wi-Fi, she’d picked up plenty of gossip from the other old-fire-station residents about Alex. He was rumoured to be some military hero, honourably discharged from the army after frontline action abroad. The building was also awash with gossip about his endless stream of women; the word was that he bedded a different one every night! And two or three times she’d actually seen said women, sporting that giveaway combination of evening clothes, bed hair and smug smile, making the walk of shame when she’d nipped down to the café for a takeaway coffee first thing in the morning. Lara had watched pityingly; she couldn’t think of anything more pointless. With all this evidence taken as a whole, there was no real question as to the source of the noise pollution that was tiring her out, disrupting her work and thus costing her money, of which she had absolutely no more.

The first couple of times it might even have been funny. His bed must be shoved right up against the radiator, because the water pipes for the top flat were clearly shared by her own little studio flat below. At first she’d rolled her eyes in exasperation and—possibly—a hint of wistful envy. Not that it had anything to do with the military hero himself, of course; in her opinion he sounded far too attractive for his own good. But still, it had been a long time since she’d last seen any action in that department. That was what big aspirations did to your life. There had to be sacrifices; something had to give. Lara Connor had plans and ambitions, and she intended to keep her eye on the prize.

The next step on that journey to success was the small shop she’d managed to secure in Notting Hill for the next two months. Her own pop-up shop to showcase her own line of vintage-inspired lingerie. The rent on this little flat was extortionate and had eaten away at her savings, but it was worth it so she could live near the premises and she’d been working all the hours she could muster. Sewing was only a part of it—there was marketing to think of, the shop to fit and decorate. Night and day her mind was filled with nothing else. She was already exhausted, just with the workload she had to shoulder, but she cared about none of it because this was the next step in her game plan, from which she would not be distracted.

Certainly not by some inconsiderate love god living upstairs. The endless noise was beginning to jeopardise her carefully laid plans, and she quite simply was not going to stand for it any longer. Especially since it now seemed that all night was no longer adequate for his needs. This morning she’d heard the familiar slam of the door as his most recent conquest left the building. But this time it hadn’t been followed by the welcome peace that she needed to produce the intricate lingerie she designed herself to the exacting standards she demanded. She worked with delicate, fine fabrics. Silks, lace, ribbons, velvet. The kind of garments she made took skill and close attention to detail. Absolute concentration was required.

Instead, what she’d had was half an hour of mad hammering. For the first few minutes she’d tried to ignore it, waiting to see if one of the other residents would intervene. Surely she couldn’t be the only one driven mad by this? But as the minutes ticked by and the noise didn’t abate she came to realise that clearly no one else was around to intervene. They’d all gone out to work, of course, while work for Lara took place right here. She needed to concentrate on her sewing. Everything was riding on this stock being perfect. Seconds were not an option.

As she pushed her chair back grimly and grabbed her door key from the table the bashing overhead began again in earnest, bringing a fresh wave of anger to bubble up inside her.

All night, every night was one thing. Was she now expected to put up with this racket all day too?

Enough was enough.

Shoulders squared, teeth gritted, she took the stairs up to the top floor grimly, ready to give Poppy’s inconsiderate brother a piece of her sleep-deprived mind, and the planned outburst screeched to a halt on the tip of her tongue as she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. The hinge on her jaw seemed to be suddenly loose.

Poppy’s inconsiderate brother?