Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin

Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin
Emily McKay

‘I will have you’Nothing could tempt widower Ward Miller from his self-imposed seclusion. Until the private celebrity met his new ‘handler,’ the beautiful, no-nonsense Ana Rodriguez. While he’d only stepped back into the spotlight for the worthy charity Ana ran, having her by his side was the benefit he truly wanted.She claimed she’d never fall for a musician – being star struck wasn’t her style. But that wouldn’t stop Ward. Ana made him want things he hadn’t wanted in much too long. So he’d pursue her…and with one kiss turn the tables on this innocent…The Takeover For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure. These tycoons have vowed to have it all

‘I don’t want you falling in love with me and then one day waking up and realizing I’m not the man you wanted me to be.’

‘So where does that leave us?’ she asked, her tone tinged with defiance.

He shrugged. ‘We’ll still work together.’

‘I meant where does this leave us personally? You’re convinced I’m some delicate flower who can’t handle being involved with you. But you’re wrong. I can handle anything.’

He smiled at her bravado. And her choice of words. He should probably just calmly walk away from that innuendo, but, damn it, he couldn’t.

‘Am I to assume you want to handle me?’

Dear Reader,

It’s always a thrill to work on a continuity. For starters, it’s a huge honour to work with so many of the authors whose work I admire. Working on a continuity also helps me stretch and grow as a writer. For example, the hero of this story, Ward Miller, is a musician. Rock star is not a profession I would have picked for a hero all on my own, yet I ended up having a blast writing about Ward.

I live near Austin, Texas, which is known as the Live Music Capital of the World. One of my favourite local musicians is a guitarist and singer named Monte Montgomery. When I gave a voice to Ward, it was Monte’s music that I heard in my mind. If you want to hear Ward … um, I mean Monte, check out ‘Love Come Knockin’ ‘ or ‘When Will I.’ They’re all available on iTunes.

I hope you enjoy this book and the whole continuity. As for me, I can’t wait to read all the books in the series!

Emily McKay

About the Author

EMILY McKAY has been reading romance novels since she was eleven years old. Her first Mills & Boon

novel came free in a box of Hefty rubbish bags. She has been reading and loving romance novels ever since. She lives in Texas with her geeky husband, her two kids and too many pets. Her debut novel, Baby, Be Mine, was a RITA

Award finalist for Best First Book and Best Short Contemporary. She was a 2009 RT Book Reviews Career Achievement nominee for Series Romance. You can hang out with her online at the Mills & Boon

site, JauntyQuills.com or her website, www.EmilyMcKay.com.

Seduced: The

Unexpected

Virgin

Emily McKay

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

This book is—quite naturally—for all the musicians whose music I love and listen to obsessively in the final stages of writing my books. In particular, Nancy Giffith, for her poignant lyrics and her ability to tell a story with more emotional resonance in three minutes than I can tell in two hundred and forty pages. And Monte Montgomery, for giving a sound and voice to Ward.

Don’t miss a single book in this series!

The Takeover

For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure.

These tycoons have vowed to have it all!

Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress by Day Leclaire

Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin by Emily McKay

Revealed: His Secret Child by Sandra Hyatt

Bought: His Temporary Fiancée by Yvonne Lindsay

Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire by Michelle Celmer

Acquired: The CEO’s Small-Town Bride by Catherine Mann

One

The last thing Ana Rodriguez needed in her life was another preening, self-indulgent star. Mere weeks ago, she’d walked away from her successful career as a costume designer in Hollywood for precisely that reason. So when her best friend, Emma Worth, had suggested she apply for the job as the director for a charity starting up in her hometown of Vista del Mar, Ana had jumped at the chance.

A fresh start was just what she needed. Away from the drama of Hollywood. Away from stars who would make her life miserable just because she didn’t put out.

Since then, she’d found out she’d be working with Ward Miller, a musical superstar who glowed brighter than anyone she’d known in Hollywood. In her experience, the bigger the name, the bigger the ego. Only now, instead of merely dressing the megalomaniac, she had to pander to his every need, listen to his opinions, take his advice and generally make sure he was thrilled to be the celebrity face of the charity, Hannah’s Hope.

With a critical eye, she scanned the charity’s humble front office. As their mission statement said, they provided “mentoring and resources for disadvantaged individuals.” Which was a fancy way of saying “We help poor people.” In general, Ana wasn’t fond of fancy ways of saying things.

“You’re stewing,” a friendly voice chided.

Ana looked over her shoulder to Christi Cox, her assistant director. “I’m not stewing. I’m mulling.”

Which was just a fancy way of saying “stewing.” Ana uncrossed her arms to toy with the delicate trio of golden loops that comprised her earrings.

The furnishings of the front room were clean, but strictly utilitarian. Functional worktables supplemented with used chairs and bookshelves she’d picked up on Craigslist. The conference room, offices and kitchen in back were even less chic. She’d sent Omar, Hannah’s Hope’s third employee, out to the grocery store to buy coffee. But she doubted even the most gourmet of brews would impress Miller.

She’d dressed up the front room as best she could, with some throw pillows, a floor lamp—to soften the glare of overhead fluorescents—and a bright throw rug, all items she’d had at home. They reflected her eclectic style and added a touch of comfort to the room, but no elegance.

In short, the facilities for Hannah’s Hope looked exactly like what they were: fifty percent meeting space, fifty percent classroom, one hundred percent last, best hope for its clientele. Zero percent schmooze room for spoiled celebrities.

She couldn’t shake the fear that Miller would walk in here and turn his nose up at all they’d done. But underneath that was a deeper fear. That he’d walk in here, have one conversation with her and realize she was a fraud who lacked the skills to make Hannah’s Hope really soar.

If anyone could see through her, it was Miller. He wasn’t just a musical god, he was also legendary for his charitable work on behalf of the Cara Miller Foundation, an organization he’d started after the death of his wife. He’d donated and raised countless millions. He sat on the board of more charities than she could count, including the newly formed board of Hannah’s Hope.

And the truth was, she’d gotten this job only because Emma also sat on the board. Growing up with Emma was practically her sole qualification for being the director of Hannah’s Hope.

The hopes and dreams of the entire town rested on her shoulders. She didn’t dare let them down. Not when they needed her so desperately.

Besides, she needed this job. Not just because she’d quit her other one. Not because she’d invested all her savings in a tiny bungalow in one of Vista del Mar’s middle-class neighborhoods. But because after four years of draping fabric and making beautiful people look good, she needed to do something important. She needed to make a difference.

If only she had more time to get her feet under her before Miller showed up. It was bad enough that she felt so horribly unprepared for this job, why did she have to deal with him so early in her stint as director? Rafe Cameron, the charity’s founder, was an inattentive board member at best. Rafe—hometown bad boy turned corporate raider—was focused on taking over Worth Industries, the company that fueled the local economy. Rafe had started Hannah’s Hope to create goodwill within the community, but Ana suspected he was motivated more by public relations spin than true benevolence. Emma supported her one hundred percent. But Ward was the wild card. Would he swoop in and perform the kind of miracle he had for the Cara Miller Foundation? Or was he merely Rafe’s watchdog, sent here to judge her every misstep?

Besides, he was Ward freakin’ Miller. Musical superstar and the most recognizable do-gooder in the country. Oh, yeah. And he was hot.

Any one of those elements would be enough to intimidate a woman of her meager accomplishments. The triple whammy just might induce cardiac arrest.

Maybe she was even hoping he’d turn out to be a jerk. She’d been a fan of his since she hit puberty. Professional distance would be easier to fake if he ended up being just as obnoxious as … oh, say, Ridley Sinclair, the supposedly happily married movie star who’d relentlessly hit on her. Okay, so Ward didn’t have to be that bad. All she asked for was just a smidge of artistic temperament to help her establish some boundaries between her fantasies of Ward and the real-life man she was about to face.

Christi came to stand beside Ana. They stood shoulder to shoulder by their office door, trying to imagine the first impression the room would give.

Ana clucked. “It’s not fancy enough. It’s not elegant enough. We should have met at the Vista Del Mar Beach and Tennis Club like I wanted to.”

“His personal assistant said he didn’t expect any special treatment,” Christi reminded her.

Ana gave a guffaw of disbelief. “I’ve worked with a lot of famous people. They all expect special treatment.”

And she was so not good at pandering to celebrities. Inevitably, she tired of their nonsense and her temper got the better of her. Oh, it’s that fiery Latin temper, her friends would tease. Which only made it worse. She hated living down to that stereotype.

“Either they demand a particular kind of water, chilled to a precise temperature,” she continued. “Or they want a collection of seventeen different snacks that are all a shade of blue. Or they’re on some cleansing diet that requires them to snort freerange kelp up their nose five times a day.”