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Maid of Dishonor by Heidi Rice
Maid of Dishonor by Heidi Rice










Maid of Dishonor by Heidi Rice

Savannah’s most eligible bachelor wasn’t just hot, he was positively combustible. She locked her knees, determined not to collapse into a heap as the shot of adrenaline collided with the explosion of heat in the pit of her stomach - and it occurred to her that the paparazzi pictures had not done him justice. Her thighs quivered alarmingly as he walked towards her. ‘Don’t move,’ he said into his phone, before switching it off and tucking it into his back pocket. Her breath got trapped somewhere around her solar plexus - as she debated the probability of teleportation actually existing.

Maid of Dishonor by Heidi Rice

The phone dropping away from her ear as she spotted the man standing less than ten feet away, with one elbow propped against the reception desk, a phone at his ear - and cool aquamarine eyes locked on her face. ‘Although I’m wondering where you’re headed in such a hurry?’ The exit doors were only a few feet away. She couldn’t risk turning around to check. Good grief, was he at the reception desk? Right behind her? Maybe he’d phoned ahead? Please let him have phoned ahead. How are you?’ she said the false brightness making her wince. She’d simply have to talk and run.īut as she pressed the phone to her ear, the deep laconic Southern accent had the heels of her sandals sinking into the deep pile purple carpet and her heart pounding into her throat. This might be a new client responding to her recent social media campaign for new business. She took a steadying breath and clicked the answer button. She still had thirty minutes before Carter was due to arrive. Glancing at the clock above the lobby’s exit doors, a little of the panic retreated. She paused, fumbled for the phone and stared at a number she didn’t recognize. It took her a moment to remember that Gloria’s strident disco classic was her phone’s ring tone. Gloria Gaynor singing I Will Survive blasted from her bag at top volume making her steps falter. The guilty flush made her breathing speed up as she shot across the lobby. The waitress returned with the check, and Gina threw several bills on the tray without counting them.












Maid of Dishonor by Heidi Rice