The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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СКАЧАТЬ and she couldn’t get the word out. Couldn’t make any sound at all.

      This wasn’t happening to Eva, it was happening to her.

      But then Matt was there, leading her from the chair and tersely informing the producer that Eva did not deign to give interviews to second-rate talk shows without proper equipment.

      “Nice,” she said when she could speak again, which happened right around the time she crossed the threshold of Matt’s house. “You’re the best manager I’ve ever had.”

      “I’m sorry I suggested that.”

      He was still bristling, his expression hard and unyielding. And maybe a little frightening.

      “It’s not your fault.”

      “It is. I had no idea he’d be so insensitive.”

      He muttered a particularly inventive slur on Franco’s paternity and heritage simultaneously.

      Amazing how Matt could still make her smile in the midst of emotional uproar.

      “If it makes you feel better, you made up for it, like by quadruple.”

      It hadn’t been merely a rescue, but an expert extraction completed without letting on to her distress and giving Milano Sera’s team the impression they’d upset her diva personality. A miraculous feat in her opinion.

      “It does not make me feel better.” He flipped on the lights to dispel the February gloom. Instantly, she cheered. This was still a haven. “You told me exactly what would happen. But I was so sure I knew what would help.”

      Clearly frustrated, he heaved a sigh.

      She tucked herself into his embrace and laid her head on his shoulder, right at the hollow she’d first discovered while they were dancing. “You’ve given me exactly what I needed. A place to block all that out.”

      His arms tightened, drawing her into his body deliciously. “I’m glad, sweetheart. Palazzo D’Inverno is available to you as long as you want it.”

      Not the house. You.

      He helped, in so many intangible ways. In his arms, nothing seemed as bad.

      She didn’t say it.

      If nothing else, Franco had shown her the protection Eva had provided in the past had all but vanished. She had nothing left to be rejected but the deepest part of herself, and that was something she refused to risk.

      No matter how much she wished Matt held some sort of magic key to her future, he couldn’t be anything more than a brief distraction. There was no question their Venice affair was going to be hot, fantastic...and short-lived.

      She refused to become dependent on a man—not just a man, but one with his own demons—to fill the gap music had left behind, and she could see it happening as if Matt’s beautiful eyes had turned into a crystal ball. Worse, it would be all take and no give, because her store of trust was in short supply. That was totally unfair.

      How much longer did it really make sense for her to stay?

       Seven

      Matthew blinked and it was somehow Saturday already.

      Evangeline filled his house, exactly as he’d envisioned, and blinded him to everything else. They didn’t go out, more through his insistence than hers. He’d set up an account at both the local pharmacy and the grocery store so Evangeline could order whatever she needed to be delivered. The creative thank-you she’d given him for his thoughtfulness still ranked as one of the highlights of the week.

      And there had been a lot of highlights, especially the gradual lightening of the shadows in her eyes, which he’d only made worse with his meddling. He was gratified she’d stayed long enough to let him undo the hurt he’d caused.

      He’d never had a relationship with no promises past breakfast. Certainly never thought he’d have suggested it. Every morning, he expected—braced—to find she’d left in the middle of the night.

      It was getting old. But the terms were too necessary to change.

      The wanderlust in her eyes was unmistakable. When she talked about performing in Budapest or Moscow, her expression reminded him of when he was inside her. Rapturous. She couldn’t sing, but she still liked roaming. Eventually, she’d move on and leave him behind.

      Which was good. This thing between them was amazing, but he couldn’t keep it up, not long term.

      He glanced at his phone. With the time difference, Mama should be at one of her Saturday-morning fundraisers right about now. The perfect time to call. He dialed and waited for voice mail to pick up.

      “You’ve reached Fran Wheeler. I’m busy saving the world with style and grace. Leave a message.”

      His mother’s voice poured alcohol on the exposed wound of guilt in his gut, which was approximately half the size of Texas. “It’s me, Mama. Just checking in to let you know I’m still alive. Talk to you later.”

      He wouldn’t, because he never called when she might actually answer.

      What would he say? Sorry about taking off. No, still not coming home. Still not capable of being the Wheeler you raised me to be.

      He had to go home and pick up his responsibilities with Wheeler Family Partners.

      But he’d left because he couldn’t do it any longer, couldn’t see his grandfather’s empty desk every day. Couldn’t attend fundraisers and ribbon cuttings without Amber. Couldn’t watch Lucas and Cia sneak off during the boring parts of events and return with all that love and affection dripping from their faces.

      It was too hard.

      So he’d live in the present and wring every bit of pleasure out of it.

      He sat at the kitchen island and watched Evangeline wash lunch dishes in the sink. He cooked and she washed dishes. Worked for him—the view was very enjoyable from his stool.

      “What do you want to do now?” he asked. She flashed a naughty smile over her shoulder. “Twice this morning wasn’t enough for you?”

      “Never enough. I like you too much.”

      Yeah. He liked her, too. Everything was fun. Showers. Dishes. Long talks in the afternoon. “The weather is supposed to be unseasonably warm today. What if we have dinner on the roof?”

      “There’s a rooftop patio?” Her gravelly voice was hopeful as she dried the last dish and put it away.

      That voice. It still dug in, sharp and hot inside no matter how many times he heard it. It was the first thing he wanted to hear in the morning and the last thing he wanted to hear before he went to sleep.

      “Did I forget to mention that?”

      “Never mind dinner. Show it to me right now.”

      “Sure.” СКАЧАТЬ