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Greek Tycoon's Mistletoe Proposal
Kandy Shepherd
A proposal of convenience!When guarded billionaire Lukas Christophedes finds maid Ashleigh Murphy living in his mansion, he strikes a deal with his gorgeous gate-crasher. If Ashleigh acts as Lukas’s girlfriend to help him close a crucial business deal, she can stay until the New Year.For newly single Ashleigh, agreeing to keep hearts off the table sounds easy…until the line between what’s real and what’s for show starts to blur! And as Christmas approaches all Ashleigh is wishing for from Lukas is a different, much more heartfelt romantic, proposal…Maids Under the MistletoePromoted: from maids to Christmas Brides!
A proposal of convenience!
When billionaire Lukas Christophedes finds maid Ashleigh gatecrashing his mansion, he strikes a bargain: if Ashleigh acts as Lukas’s girlfriend to help him close a deal, she can stay until the New Year!
For newly single Ashleigh, agreeing to keep hearts off the table sounds easy...until the line between what’s real and what’s for show starts to blur! And as Christmas approaches, all Ashleigh is wishing for is a different, much more heartfelt, proposal...
Maids Under the Mistletoe
Promoted: from maids to Christmas brides!
Maids Emma, Ashleigh, Grace and Sophie work for the same elite London agency. And with Christmas just around the corner, they’re gearing up for their busiest period yet!
But as the snowflakes begin to fall these Christmas Cinderellas are about to be swept off their feet by romantic heroes of their own...
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by Christy McKellen
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Greek Tycoon’s Mistletoe Proposal
by Kandy Shepherd
(November 2016)
Christmas in the Boss’s Castle
by Scarlet Wilson
(December 2016)
Her New Year Baby Secret
by Jessica Gilmore
(January 2017)
Greek Tycoon’s Mistletoe Proposal
Kandy Shepherd
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
KANDY SHEPHERD swapped a career as a magazine editor for a life writing romance. She lives on a small farm in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia, with her husband, daughter and lots of pets. She believes in love at first sight and real-life romance—they worked for her! Kandy loves to hear from her readers. Visit her at www.kandyshepherd.com (http://www.kandyshepherd.com).
To Wendy Uren—for the many years of friendship and all that window shopping in Bond Street!
Contents
Cover (#uce53f187-0267-523a-bed7-9137b3d85efe)
Back Cover Text (#u459ac86a-7cae-54a3-afd1-f786607e2b74)
Introduction (#u51387b90-71de-5d43-8f96-d18825c54397)
Title Page (#ue7b9c20a-b94c-5d53-8735-faed53369f93)
About the Author (#udb4dbc4a-f23a-55db-83aa-234282cc2202)
Dedication (#u8683aa34-7d20-576e-89e0-0e0e00ed2360)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8cd75c1a-40f6-571f-ae08-786839893171)
CHAPTER TWO (#u30fbda7e-145f-5479-aaf0-c1c37a6429c0)
CHAPTER THREE (#u37e0a5e7-176c-5100-8d5a-b93d18f9c902)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc1dc38ed-a093-5096-aad8-a4e7bc798797)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u6c2b600f-496a-5f75-bc33-0e7973b08fed)
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)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7daea971-3858-57ac-ac35-7d55b4951aa4)
LUKAS CHRISTOPHEDES HEARD the singing the moment he let himself into his Chelsea townhouse. The infernal sound of yet another Christmas carol. This time, infiltrating the sanctuary of one of his favourite homes. How many times had he heard a rendition of Jingle Bells already today? With only days until Christmas, canned festive music had followed him from the airport in Athens all the way to his disconcerting business meeting in east London. After the day he’d endured, he did not need Jingle Bells here.
The cleaner must have left a radio on. He had an ongoing arrangement with the upmarket Maids in Chelsea agency to ensure his house was cleaned and aired daily so it would always be ready should he have to spend time in the UK. Perhaps they’d purposely left the radio on as a burglar deterrent? That could make sense—Chelsea was one of the most affluent areas of London. But the sooner it was switched off the better.
As he strode through the marble-floored entranceway the singing got louder—and more off-key. He winced. No radio would give airtime to this appalling rendition of Jingle Bells in that tuneless female voice. This was a live performance. He cursed in a fluent mix of Greek and English. A maid must still be here working—a particularly tone-deaf maid. At six p.m. he expected his house to be free of any domestic help. It was his escape and his refuge and he demanded privacy. Strong words would be spoken to Maids in Chelsea for this breach of protocol.
Lukas flung his cashmere coat and scarf onto the antique chair in the marble-tiled hallway and headed towards the staircase that led to the next two floors. He wanted this maid out of his house, pronto.
The tuneless singing was coming from the next floor so he took the stairs two at a time. He wanted to plug his ears with his fingers as he neared the master bathroom that adjoined his bedroom. It couldn’t be much fun getting down on hands and knees to scrub out someone’s bathroom but that was no excuse for this tuneless wailing. The sooner this woman packed up her brushes and mops and got out, the better.
The door to the luxurious bathroom, all marble and glass, remodelled by one of the most in-demand interior designers in London, was half open. He pushed it fully open. Then stood, stupefied. There was a naked woman in his bathtub.
She reclined in the freestanding rolltop tub. Although a heavy froth of bubbles protected her modesty he could make out the shape of high, round breasts, slender shoulders, a long pale neck. A mass of bright auburn hair was piled on top of her head and fell in tendrils around a flushed heart-shaped face. One slim leg pointed to the ceiling as she used a long-handled wooden brush—his new brush—to soap between toes tipped with a delicate pink polish.
‘Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh-ay,’ she caterwauled, her voice cracking on the last word as she didn’t achieve the high, extended note required.
Lukas stared in disbelief for a moment longer before he exploded. ‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bathroom?’
The woman turned. Her eyes widened and he saw they were an extraordinary shade of blue. Then she screamed—an ear-splitting scream even more excruciating to his ears than her singing. ‘Get out!’ she shrieked.
Lukas glared at her. ‘You can get out of my bathtub first.’
She waved the bath brush at him in what was obviously intended to be a menacing manner. ‘Not until you get out of here.’
The movement of wielding the brush brought her breasts dangerously close to being bared. With a quick downward glance and a little gasp, she seemed to realise it and stilled. Then slid deeper down into the water, all bravado wilting like the foam bubbles on her shoulders.
‘I...I guess you’re Mr Christophedes. Even though I was told you weren’t going to be in London until after Christmas.’
‘And you are?’
The flush deepened on her cheeks. ‘Ashleigh Murphy. Your daily maid. From Maids in Chelsea.’
‘So, Ashleigh Murphy, what are you doing in my bathtub?’
She raised the brush again. ‘I’m...uh...scrubbing it.’
Her audacity almost made him smile. Almost. He realised she was young, mid-twenties at most. And quite lovely. But she had taken an unheard of liberty for a maid.
‘I think not,’ he said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘Try again.’
‘This is such a luxurious bathroom. As I cleaned it, I wished I could try out the tub—it’s magnificent, isn’t it?’ The hand that wasn’t holding the bath brush reverently stroked the side of the tub without, Lukas thought, her realising she was doing it. ‘The slum of a hotel where I’ve been staying has the world’s most disgusting shared bathroom. I had to disinfect it before I could even think about dipping a toe in the tub. And then the water was just a lukewarm trickle...’ Her voice died away. She swallowed hard. She didn’t meet his eyes but seemed to concentrate on the work-of-art tap.
‘So the bathroom is no better in the place you’re staying now?’
She crinkled up her nose in a look that expressed guilt better than any words could. ‘Actually it is. Because, well, I’m staying here. In...in your house.’
‘You what?’ The words exploded from him and she cringed back into the water.
‘You’re getting a live-in maid at no extra cost?’ she offered, in an obvious effort to placate him.
‘Not good enough, Ashleigh Murphy,’ he thundered.
She crossed her arms over her chest and sat up higher in the bathtub. The water fell away to reveal more of her slim, pale body. Lukas knew he should avert his eyes but it wasn’t easy. In his thirty-four years, he had never encountered such a situation. Even though he’d grown up in a multi-servant household and kept a full-time staff in his Athens mansion.
‘I had nowhere else to stay. My time ran out at the hotel; I was planning to couch surf with a friend but it didn’t work out. London at this time of year is so expensive I couldn’t find anywhere I could afford. I’d been hired as your daily maid so I—’
‘Took advantage and moved in.’
‘Took advantage? I suppose that’s how it might look. But I was desperate. It was either bunk down in one of your guest rooms or...or go home.’ Her voice trailed away.
‘And home is?’
‘Australia.’
He’d detected an accent but it wasn’t strong and he hadn’t been able to place it. Lukas frowned. ‘Surely Australia is a good place to call home, especially at this time of year when it’s summer there.’
Her eyes cast downward. ‘Not...not when I ran away from my wedding. And if I go home again the family will think I’ve come back to...to marry a man I realised I don’t love.’
She was a runaway bride? Lukas wasn’t sure what to say about something so messy and totally out of his experience. But it was hardly an excuse to trespass. He cleared his throat. ‘You’ll be lucky if I don’t call the police.’
Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Please. Don’t do that. I assure you I haven’t stolen anything. I’ve been doing extra cleaning in lieu of rent. And...and please don’t tell Clio Caldwell at the agency,’ she said. ‘She knows nothing about me staying here. She’s been so good to me and I don’t want to let her down. And...and...well, she’s having a personal crisis right now and doesn’t need any extra worries.’
The fact that the intruder in his bathtub seemed more concerned at offending her boss than saving her own skin made Lukas soften towards her. Perhaps she was just young and silly, and desperate rather than dishonest.
‘Then I suggest you pack your bags—’
‘I only have a backpack,’ she interrupted.
‘Pack your backpack and get out of my house,’ he said.
She caught her lower lip with her teeth. Lukas could not help noticing the lush fullness of her mouth, her perfect teeth. ‘Now?’ she said, her voice quivering a little on the word.
He tapped his foot on the floor. ‘Now.’
‘But...’ Her voice trailed away and she hugged her arms closer to her chest.
Some dark part of him wanted to make her get out of the bath and watch as she fumbled for a towel. See for himself if her body was as slender and shapely as it appeared through the protective coating of bubbles. But he did not give in to base impulses. Not after having grown up with the consequences of his father’s lack of self-control and indulgence in whatever appetites overcame him. Not when he’d been put at risk himself from the unbridled decadence of his family’s lifestyle.
Lukas took a step towards the heated towel rail. Picked up a thick, pale grey towel and tossed it towards her. She went to catch it, her movement revealing the curve of the top of her breasts. Then, rather than risk further exposure, she stilled and let the towel slide to the marble tiles next to the tub. For a long moment she looked at him, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling. Lukas recognised the second a shadow of fear darkened her eyes as she realised the vulnerability of her position.
He stepped back to put a greater distance between them. He wanted her out of his house. But he would never want a woman to cringe from him in fear. Not that Ashleigh Murphy seemed to be the cringing type.
‘Get yourself dressed and see me in my study on your way out,’ he said curtly, turning on his heel. The sooner this opportunistic backpacker was out of his house the better.
