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

the computer and opened a work file. He didn’t glance at her again. ‘You can let yourself out, right?’

‘Right,’ she echoed.

She was right. They needed to start spending less time together, not more. If he wasn’t careful, when Callie left New York he’d find a hole had been left in his life—one he’d never be able to fill—and he wasn’t opening himself up to that kind of heartache. Neither he nor Callie needed trouble.

* * *

Owen glanced around Callie’s apartment, alive with music and people, chatter and laughter.

‘So, after I’d read the letter she slid beneath the door,’ Stuart was saying, ‘I felt that darned ashamed of myself that I did a whip-around and we bought her that plant as a housewarming gift.’

A large cheese plant in a cheery white pot, with a big yellow polka dot ribbon tied around its base, sat in pride of place on a low table by the front door.

Stu was the third person that evening to tell him about the letter. Apparently Callie had written to each of the residents, informing them of the deal she’d made with Owen in relation to the apartment block, assuring them that nothing would change. She’d done it in plain, unadorned English, without fuss or fanfare, and she couldn’t have found a better way to endear herself to the little community.

Stu pointed. ‘Look, there’s Angus.’ He waved over the proprietor of the local bar, The Three Bells.

Owen stared at him. ‘How do you know Callie?’

Angus clapped him on the shoulder. ‘She’s been unofficially tutoring Micah and some of her pals in the afternoons.’

Micah from the park was Angus’s daughter? How had he never made the connection?

‘And in return I’ve been plying her with some of New York’s finest craft ales.’

That made him laugh. ‘You’ve discovered her fondness for beer?’

‘She has a very discerning palate,’ he said with a grin, glancing around. ‘Micah and her friends should be here somewhere.’ He lifted his hand in a wave when he spotted them. ‘I promised Lian I wouldn’t let them stay out too late.’

Stu and Angus ambled off to top up their drinks. Owen glanced over at Josephine, Eliza and Betty, but they were in animated discussion with Claude and Jilly from downstairs. So he made his way across to Mr Singh, who sat on the sofa with Barney.

‘How are you holding up, Mr S?’ he asked, lowering himself down beside the older man carefully, so as to not jolt him. It was only his second day out of hospital. Both he and Callie were keeping a close eye on him, not wanting him to wear himself out.

‘It’s done these old bones good to come out to a party. It’s been a long time…’ He trailed off. ‘She’s a grand girl.’

He followed the older man’s gaze to where Callie was busy refreshing her guests’ drinks. She wore a dark red dress that was neither showy nor racy, but still somehow managed to shout exuberance and good cheer. When she turned too quickly the skirt would flare out, giving beguiling glimpses of her thighs. Owen had spent a significant portion of his evening doing his best not to notice. Likewise, he tried to ignore how the line of buttons that went from the vee of her neckline to mid-thigh made his fingers tingle.

‘She’s promised to come walking with me and Barney every day.’ He ruffled the dog’s ears. ‘She says she misses him. I know it’s just an excuse. She has a kind heart. But she shouldn’t be wasting her time on an old man like me.’

‘Don’t let her hear you saying that. She doesn’t consider spending time with you and Barney a hardship. She likes you. You’ll be short-changing her and yourself if you think otherwise.’

‘Ah, lad, you’ve a kind heart too. You and Callie are two of a kind.’

Something squeezed tight in Owen’s chest—something hot and sweet and intense and gentle and carnal all at the same time.

He glanced at Callie and his mouth went dry. Straightening, he stared about the apartment—really stared. While it couldn’t be denied that the new coat of paint had freshened it up, everything else remained the same—the configuration of the furniture, the ornaments and vases and knick-knacks, the pictures on the walls—and yet the apartment seemed completely different. Transformed. And that was due to its new occupant. Callie had a life and vitality that infused the place, as well as the people around her.

Yearning drilled through him. Not just the hot edge of desire and attraction, but something quieter and stronger. The pulse in his throat started to pound. The longer he gazed at her, the clearer everything became. Frances had been imprisoned by fear and regret. Wasn’t he in danger of making the same mistake?

A woman had betrayed his trust and he’d allowed that one act to cast him adrift on an ocean of suspicion and mistrust. Even though he knew Callie wasn’t like Fiona, wasn’t after his money or the financial security he could give her, he continued to hold tight to his…his prejudice—he couldn’t think what else to call it—because it had helped him to feel safe.

His hands clenched and unclenched. Safety hadn’t brought Frances happiness.

The hardness he’d been carrying like a ball of concrete inside him melted now, as if it were nothing but wax, spreading warmth and a new sense of possibility through him.

He wanted Callie—and not just for a fling. Finally he had the courage to admit that to himself. He didn’t want to lose her when she started her new job. And…wouldn’t that job mean she’d be based in the States? Between research trips she’d have to live somewhere, so why not right here, where she’d already formed a community?

He didn’t have a crystal ball. He couldn’t predict where things between them might lead. But instinct told him that if he didn’t fight for Callie now he’d regret it for the rest of his life. He trusted his instincts again now, with a fierceness he refused to