Harlequin Romance March 2021 Box Set Cara Colter (the mitten read aloud TXT) 📖

her grandmother’s death that bothered her. It was the way she’d chosen to live her life. She sipped her coffee too. It was far stronger than she was used to, but she refused to grimace.

‘You just answered a question with a question, so I’m guessing that’s a yes.’

She wished she could get a handle on him…read him better. Just a tiny little bit would help.

‘I’m not squeamish about staying in a place that somebody has died in.’ She sent him an apologetic smile, because the words felt as if they should come with an apology. ‘I’d just like to know, that’s all.’

‘Frances was taken ill here, but she died in hospital.’ He paused, as if fighting with himself. ‘If you’re not squeamish, why ask?’

And there it was—the latent hostility that rose and bristled from him like a wolf’s hackles. It had raised its head a couple of times in the lawyer’s office, and she knew now that she hadn’t imagined it.

She took another sip of her drink, her pulse picking up speed. ‘Because I know nothing about my grandmother’s last days.’ And she needed to find out everything she could about the woman. ‘Was she alone?’

She wasn’t asking just in the hope of finding a contact who could help her fill in all the blanks in her family tree either. She sincerely hoped Frances hadn’t died alone. Nobody should die alone.

‘Did she have someone with her at the end?’

‘Yes.’

She straightened when she realised who that person had been. ‘You?’

‘Yes.’

After leaving the lawyer’s office, she’d had every intention of having nothing more to do with Owen Perry, but it was beginning to dawn on her that he might be the only person who could tell her all she needed to know.

She refused to let her shoulders sag. Refused to let her sudden exhaustion show. ‘Why don’t you want me staying here?’ The question blurted from her, but she needed to know.

His mouth tightened. ‘Do you mind if we take care of a few housekeeping things before I answer that?’

‘Housekeeping?’

He lifted his phone and punched in a number. ‘Rachel, I need a favour. I’ve an acquaintance who’s just arrived from Australia and, long story short, she finds herself with nothing except the clothes she’s standing up in.’

And twenty million dollars she wanted to say, just to annoy him. Though she didn’t know why she wanted to annoy him. Except his using the word acquaintance had stung. It shouldn’t have. It was the truth. But that hadn’t stopped it from sounding so damn dismissive.

‘That’s exactly what I’m hoping.’

There was a pause while he listened to the person on the other end.

‘So if I text you her picture you’ll be able to gauge her size and have some essentials sent round?’

There was another pause.

‘Excellent. Charge it to the company credit card.’

He gave the address of the apartment and then rang off.

‘May I?’ He held up his phone as if to take her photograph.

She tried not to focus on the way the thin woollen material of his jumper pulled taut across a pair of tantalisingly broad shoulders, or how the charcoal colour brought out the colour of his eyes.

‘Why don’t I just tell you my sizes?’

‘They can be different between countries. Rachel is a wizard. She’ll take one look at your picture and know your size.’

She nodded. She did need some basic essentials ASAP, and it was just easier to go with the flow.

He took the photo and then sent it to this unknown Rachel.

She stared at him. And then realised she was staring, so forced her attention back to her coffee. ‘What do you do? For work, I mean.’

His gaze turned sharp. ‘Why?’

‘Why do you have to be so suspicious?’ She set down her mug. ‘All I want to know is if your boss is going to be okay with you charging personal items—female personal items—to your company credit card. I’ve caused you enough inconvenience as it is.’

He swung away, stowing his phone in his back pocket. ‘I’m a software engineer. I develop programs and apps for mobile devices. There won’t be any trouble.’

Lucky him. His employer was evidently far more understanding and fair-minded than hers had been. Still, Owen was a man, and from where she was standing it seemed there were different rules for men.

‘Next,’ he said, his voice businesslike as he reached for his wallet, ‘how much cash do you have on you?’

She wrenched her gaze from his strong thighs. Owen made jeans and a jumper—sweater in New York, she corrected herself—look like a work of art.

‘Oh, please, put that away! Thank you, Owen, but you’ve already done enough. I’m very grateful, but I have enough cash to last me a few days.’ If she was frugal. ‘I promise,’ she added, when he opened his mouth. ‘Especially with the refund you scored for me back at the hotel. And if I find I’m running low I’ll call on Mr Dunkley and make him earn the no-doubt outrageous fees he’s been charging Frances all these years.’

‘A fee he’s now charging you.’

‘Is there any other “housekeeping” we need to take care of?’

‘I don’t think so.’ His nostrils flared. ‘Everything in this apartment now belongs to you. You’re free to do with it what you will.’

And he hated that fact. That much was obvious.

‘Are you going to answer my question now?’

He turned away, his jaw clenching. ‘I didn’t want you staying here because—’ He raked a hand through his hair, before swinging back. ‘Look, it’s not personal, okay? I miss Frances.’

His intensity took her off guard. ‘Okay…’

‘And over the last few weeks I’ve been letting myself in here and sitting down in my usual spot on the sofa to watch Law and Order, like I used to do with her when she was alive. It…’ He trailed off with an impatient shrug.

Her heart burned, because she could see the grief stamped on his face and, despite all her suspicions, she knew it wasn’t feigned. ‘It made you miss her less?’

‘Not really. It was a