HUNTER’S HEART PRACTICALLY came to a stop every time he got a call from one of his sister’s

carers. He went outside to take the call away from the background noise of the wine bar. And
away from anyone—most particularly Millie—listening in.
‘Rupinder? Is everything okay?’ He cupped one hand over his other ear to tone down the
sounds of the busy street. His heart rate would never return to normal until he was assured
everything was all right with his sister who had a rare genetic disorder. Emma required round-
the-clock care and he had set her up in a nice townhouse close to her medical specialists, and
organised and funded a team of full-time carers for her.
‘Yes, everything’s fine to do with Emma, but I just wanted to let you know I’m going to
have to take a couple of weeks off due to my mother suddenly taking ill. She needs surgery, so
hopefully I won’t be too long off work, just till she gets back on her feet. Judy is going to fill
in for me—is that okay with you?’
Hunter let out a sigh of relief that the emergency at hand had nothing to do with his sister
this time. ‘Of course. Take all the time you need.’
Too many phone calls over the years had brought news of Emma having yet another grand
mal seizure or some sort of serious infection. Meningitis, bronchitis, pneumonia, sepsis...the
list went on. The worry was a constant background humming in his brain. One of the worst
seizures Emma had had was on the day of his blind date with Millie. He had come straight
from visiting his sister in the hospital, where the specialists and medical students had gathered
around her bedside, gravely talking amongst themselves about her rare condition and what
remaining options there were. Hunter had never felt less like going on a date, and certainly not
one organised by his friends.
He was the last person who needed help in the dating department. He had no trouble
attracting beautiful women to his side—his biggest problem was getting rid of them. He wasn’t
interested in settling down with a nice girl someday. Who would take him on with Emma as
part of the package deal? Hunter was her guardian and he held power of attorney now their
mother was dead. Their father had washed his hands of them long ago and now had a new
family. A perfect family.
Hunter had seen a photo of Millie Donnelly-Clarke at a society ball in the press a few months
ago and had been intrigued by her. She had an untouchable air about her, regal and aristocratic,
and he’d found himself agreeing to his friends’ suggestion of a blind date with her.
But then Emma...
A lot of his life was dictated by his sister’s problems. Ever since he’d been twelve years old
when his parents had divorced, and Emma only seven, he’d had to step up and take on heavy
responsibilities to do with the welfare, care and support of his sister—not to mention support
his devastated mother, who hadn’t coped with being deserted by Hunter’s father. Abandoned
and ripped off in the divorce by the man who had once claimed to love her, Hunter’s mother
had been left to raise two children, one of whom required constant care and numerous
expensive therapies.
Hunter hadn’t been in the best of moods when he’d met Millie for dinner and, given how
prickly and unfriendly she had been, he hadn’t bothered to dazzle her with his usual charm
offensive.
But strangely, ever since, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.
Was it because she’d been the first woman to give him the brush-off since he’d been a gangly,
awkward teenager? Because she was the only one that had got away and now he wanted another
chance? He wasn’t the sort of guy who couldn’t handle a bit of rejection now and again. He
wasn’t exactly short of female attention. He only had to click his fingers and a beautiful woman
would be his for the asking.
But something about Millie’s immunity to him had got his attention. And kept it.
 Hunter ended the call with his sister’s carer, pocketed his phone and walked back into the
wine bar. Millie was sitting bent over her phone and it gave him a chance to look at her before
he joined her back at the table.
Her silvery blonde hair was long and lustrous, exactly like a skein of silk. Her figure was
petite and slim and yet utterly feminine. The first thing he had noticed about her was her grey-
blue eyes—they seemed to change colour with her mood. One minute they were a smoky grey,
the other an ice-blue. Her complexion was the classic peaches and cream, with high aristocratic
cheekbones, a ski-slope nose and an upturned mouth that had been the stuff of his night-time
fantasises for the last couple of months, since their ill-fated blind date. He hadn’t so much as
laid a finger on her, not even to shake her hand in greeting, much less kiss her cheek. And yet,
every male hormone in his body throbbed with the desire to do so.