Mistress To Married Man...No Way!

thing, Mother. Why

you ne

of your life, you might look for

e irritable note in his voice and the V creased between his brows, plus the tense impatience of his actions since he’d e

s his, and he drew a firm line between the two enterprises. For the most part,

Passing that particular buck to his younger brothers wouldn’t wash. It was Nathan who had

raising a quizzical eyebrow at the man who was so very much his father’s son. “I wasn’

ince it was the only one big enough to accommodate his length and brea

ither. “I had other interests to l

e point is, we all agreed a marr

er had left under threat of divorce by his wife. “And who is to judge how good a relationship

man would cope with the location bet

pressed with the men who applied

er be, because I will not be at her beck and call to clean up any mess

han.” Elizabeth could not repress a satisfied

beetled down. “What’s

to any man’s hand.” And that, my son, may well

charming hostess to the resort guests who exp

to manage guests,” Elizabeth drawled. “But judge for yourself, Nathan. That sounds

ure Tommy will be in good form. He’ll u

e to Tommy to spark a response in women. He liked to be liked. But the cool blonde she’d interviewed would let his charm wash over her like wa

like him or not as you pleased. He was a challenge, too. A challenge most women gave up on. Elizabeth didn’t think Miran

—sexual chemistry—but vit

lating to each business would be entirely separate, the “homestead” at the resort having no connection whatsoever to the family homestead. The former w

n her mother’s life and Miranda had been glad to get out of it, knowing she was an unwelcome reminder of he

ly letting her surroundings touch her. They were simply places that put a roof over her head. She h

ted for both shade and ornament were old, the girth of their trunks and the breadth of their branches proclaiming the growth of more years than

t alone, on a rise above the river, and the verandahs with their ornamentation of cast-iron balustrading and frieze panels,

t steps, she was prompted by the sheer scal

irst King brothers here—Gerald it was—saw some government official’s home in Queensland and

e’d read that the first pioneering King brothers had mined

en’t built to such huge proportions any more. Certainly not in s

plained. “Everyone lived in and travellers passing through stopped by

e sense of isolation

he answered, his handsome face beaming p

p the bulk of his business, much of which was connected to the resort. Tommy King was a go-getter entrepreneu

a man only in his early thirties, he had playboy looks; a riot of black curly hair that bobbed endearingly over his forehead, dark

she was determined on keeping a very firm personal distance between them. The likes of Tommy King could not tempt her into mixing busin

hook his head over the wicked shame of it. “Guests would probably give their eye-teeth to stay here, but Nathan just won

ied the family tree in the book on King’s Eden. The people she’d met so

r his family,” Miranda said, thinking some thin

ee,” Tommy shot back at her. “As it is, he’s here by hims

tle time to digest this new information. The invitation to dine with the family at the old homest