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

and the hours you put in and I’ll make sure I am appropriately dressed for work situations, just as long as you never ever suggest a dress that can only be described as mushroom colour ever again.’

Matteo stared at her, his mind tumbling. ‘Wait there.’ He pushed his chair back, leaving Charlie looking after him in confusion as he strode across the square and around the corner where he knew there was a small pharmacy. It was so small and so localised he wasn’t sure it would have what he needed, but a quick perusal of the shelves yielded results and he chose a box almost at random, paid for it hurriedly and within seconds was back at the table where Charlie was sitting still, staring at him in confusion.

‘What on earth…?’ she began.

‘Here.’ He handed her the box. ‘I should have done this a long time ago.’

Charlie took the box and stared down at it, tears falling freely now. ‘Hair dye? Oh, Matteo, that is a gorgeous purple.’

‘It’ll suit you.’ He reached over to tilt her chin, wiping a tear from her soft cheek. ‘I mean it, Charlie. I do like your hair this way, but I miss the flash of colour.’ He grinned. ‘It makes you easy to find when we’re out.’

She swatted his hand away, but was laughing as she did so. ‘Whereas you need a tracking device. I never knew a man so likely to stop and not tell me. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said something to you, only to realise you’re actually half a mile behind me replying to yet another email.’ She glared at his watch. ‘Curses to whoever invented smartwatches.’

Matteo unbuckled it and handed it to her. ‘Here.’

‘What? Seriously?’

‘I was quite happy for the two weeks I didn’t have it, not checking emails every minute, and I even survived without knowing my step count. Go on. Give it away, sell it, whatever you want. I’m free.’

‘You’ll be begging me for it back within twenty-four hours,’ she said, sliding it into her bag and standing up. ‘Okay, let’s go. I’ve already paid.’

‘What’s the hurry?’

She winked. ‘I have to dye my hair—and then I intend to thank you very, very thoroughly.’

‘In that case,’ he said, grabbing her hand and towing her away from the table, ‘what are you dawdling for?’

And as she slipped her hand through his arm, laughing, Matteo dared to hope that maybe they would be all right after all.

CHAPTER TEN

CHARLIE ROLLED OVER onto her back and half opened one eye, only to instantly close it again against the bright morning sun filtering in through the curtains. But, although she tried to regulate her breathing and slide back into sleep, she knew it was a waste of time; she was wide awake.

She lay there for a moment, trying to figure out why she felt a little peculiar, touching at her emotions gingerly as if testing a sore tooth. But there was no twinge, just a blanket calm. Contentment. Contentment? That was it, why she felt so odd. She had often been happy, exhilarated, full of joy and, just as often, could find herself despairing, covering it with her usual insouciant brand of get-up-and-go and mixing things up. But she rarely felt this calm contentment.

Squinting against the morning light, she reached out a toe and rubbed it lightly against the hard muscles of Matteo’s calf. She waited a moment but he didn’t stir, not even when she ran her hand suggestively along his arm. Rolling back onto her side, she looked at him, learning him by heart all over again. He was naked, half covered by a sheet, his expression surprisingly relaxed in sleep, a marked improvement on the habitually pinched look he’d worn the last few months of their marriage. But then he’d rarely slept, working all hours.

But that was then and this was now. Charlie drank in the sharp, haughty slant of his cheeks, accentuated by high cheekbones, the strong, straight nose, not quite large enough to be called Roman, and the full sensual mouth, now relaxed, but so often severely set.

To those who didn’t know him, Matteo could seem remote, serious, even curt and yet that façade hid so much more depth than she had realised possible when she’d first met him. When he’d first introduced himself she’d been desperate to impress him, wanting him to think her worthy of a grant. But, for those first few minutes, she had thought him little more than a suit with power. A handsome suit, admittedly, one who made her pulse beat a little bit faster and her throat dry up with every glance from under those straight brows. But a suit nonetheless and Charlie wasn’t interested in suits. But he’d whisked her out for dinner and by the time her first course had arrived she’d seen that behind the tailored handmade clothing was a man who seemed genuinely interested in her project—more, interested in her. A man who asked probing questions, drew her out and listened intently to every answer. Whose hard-won smile gave her a sense of satisfaction, of fulfilment.

If Matteo thought that she had brought light and laughter into his life then she needed to acknowledge that he had brought depth to hers. He validated her and all she was. Had seen through the costume and colour to the heart of her.

Reaching up, Charlie pulled at a lock of her hair and looked at the purple-tipped ends, that same new contentment warming her through as she stretched out luxuriously, feeling aches in all her secret places, a reminder of just how much she had thanked Matteo the night before and why. Impatient, she nudged him.

‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ she said, and it was his turn to roll, stretching out with a yawn. She watched the movement appreciatively as he looked sleepily at her.

‘What time is it?’

‘No idea. You got rid of your watch, remember, and we agreed phones had no place in the bedroom.’ She couldn’t help