Business in the Bedroom,Used

About the Author Anne Oliver lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She is an avid romance reader, and after eight years of writing her own stories, Harlequin Mills and Boon offered her publication in their Modern Heat series in 2005. Her first two published novels won the Romance Writers of Australias Romantic Book of the Year Award in 2007 and 2008. She was a finalist again in 2012 and 2013. Visit her website www.anneoliver.com. Product Description Abby Seymour's arrived on the Australian Gold Coast to start a new business. Only, she's been swindled! Left with no cash, she needs help.Abby intrigues sexy, dark businessman Zak Forrester, and he offers her a roof over her head. Living together, it's impossible to resist the intense chemistry between them. But Zak insists that although she may share his bed, she can never be his wife. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. According to her horoscope, this was Abigail Seymour's lucky day. And with a house named 'Capricorn,' she'd figured she couldn't go wrong.Wrong.She stared up at the rundown house from the base of the stairs, comparing it to the photograph in her hand. The weathered board on the veranda trim pronouncing that this was indeed 'Capricorn' hung at a dejected angle and swayed on rusted hinges in the sultry breeze.In the photograph, the classic Queenslander home stood on stilts for air circulation, enclosed with open latticework. Wooden stairs led to a shady wraparound veranda, which would catch the sea air and provide stunning views of the coastline. Tropical plants added a lush green aspect.With several coats of paint, some time and energy correction: a lot of time and energy it could be that enchanting dwelling once again.She'd be having a few choice words with the agent about false advertising.Which reminded herwhere was he? They'd arranged to meet here this morning. She checked the email printout in her hand, then her watch. A bad feeling cranked up her spine. A very bad feeling. This Gold Coast house was supposed to have been the premises for her new business, Good Vibrations.At the moment the only vibrations seemed to be coming from somewhere within. And they weren't good. They were the hammeringanddrillandnotready kind. And since she hadn't organised any interior renovations yet She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Think blue, Abby, and calm down.Right now it didn't help.'What the heck's going on?' she muttered. She climbed the stairs, found the front door unlocked and pushed it open.And stopped in the middle of what looked distressingly like a demolition site. Her fingers clenched around the lease. The signed and dated lease that stated this place was hers from tomorrow.Wood shavings and lengths of wiring littered the floor. Strips of faded wallpaper hung from one wall above where a large mirror might have hung once upon a time. Dust motes swirled in a thin beam of sunlight and over a wide plank supported by stocky Aframe trestles and covered in tools.Worse, the place smelled of new wood and old mould, so not the way a massage and aromatherapy centre should smell. Everything was brown and beige and grey.The usually cheerful jingle of her anklet and beaded sandals sounded out of place on the bare floorboards as she crossed the room. 'Hello?'No reply. Just the highpitched whine of a drill.Picking her way over assorted debris, she skirted the plank table and headed for a door at the back. In the next room a ladder was propped open in a corner near another trestle table. The tinny sound of a transistor radio drifted through the manhole above.She'd have to settle for grilling the workman. She rapped on the wall. 'Excuse me?'The drill reverberated to life again, drowning her voice. Okay, forget the fact that she didn't like heights and that she was trying for a bit of professional decorum here. Setting her bag and papers on the floor, she slipped off her sandals and hitched one side of her skirt u