Soldier, Hero...Husband?. Cara Colter

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СКАЧАТЬ she said, looking back at him, “it means are you crazy?” She was unrepentant, tilting her chin at him.

      “Ah. Well. I can’t really argue with that, or blame you for thinking it.”

      His senses were beginning to stand down, but even so, the woman’s scent tickled his nostrils. Her perfume was very distinctive—it had an exotic, spicy scent that was headier than any perfume he had ever smelled. He looked once more into the liquid pools of green and gold that were her eyes and recognized a weak inclination to fall toward those pools of light and grace, calm and decency.

      Instead, he reminded himself who he really was. He let his thoughts travel away from her and down the road to the sense of failure that traveled with him these days, around the globe, like a shadow.

      What had just happened was precisely why he’d had to leave the only world he had known for nearly two decades. He’d started making mistakes. It was why he had left the SEALs when Justin had. In his line of work, mistakes demanded a price be paid. Often it was a huge price. Sometimes it was an irrevocable one.

      And he knew, from firsthand experience, it was even harder when it was someone other than yourself who paid the price for your mistakes.

      “It’s all right,” she stammered, and he realized she had seen something in his face that he would have preferred she hadn’t seen.

      And of course it was not all right to be attacking innocent civilians. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Connor could see she was trembling slightly, like a leaf in a breeze, and her eyes were wide on him. Her gaze flitted down the length of him, and then flew back to his face, shocked.

      He glanced down at himself.

      “Sheesh,” he muttered. “Would that be adding insult to injury?”

      “I told you I wasn’t injured,” she stammered. “And I’m not sure what you mean by insulted.”

      “It’s an expression,” he clarified, “just like your ma sei pazzo. It means on top of giving you a good scare, I’ve embarrassed you with my state of undress.”

      Her eyes flew to his state of undress, again, and then back up to his face. She confirmed that she was indeed embarrassed when her blush deepened to crimson.

      He would probably be blushing himself if he had any scrap of modesty remaining in himself, but he did not. He’d lived in the rough company of men his entire adult life and guys had a tendency to be very comfortable in their underwear.

      Still, he was very aware that he was standing in this beautiful woman’s presence outfitted only in army-green boxer briefs that covered only the essential parts of himself.

      Despite the circumstances he found himself in, he was reluctantly charmed that she was blushing so profusely it looked as if she had been standing with her face too close to a robust fire.

      “Sorry, I’m disoriented,” he said again, by way of explanation. “I’ve been on an insane schedule. I was in—” he had to think about it for a second “—Azerbaijan yesterday putting a security team in place for the World Food Conference. And the day before that...ah, never mind.”

      She struggled to regain her composure. “You’re Signor Benson, of course.”

      “Connor, please.”

      “I’m sorry I was not here to greet you last night. Nico told me you would arrive late.” Her English, he noted, was perfect, the accent lilting and lovely in the background of the precisely formed words. Her voice itself was enchanting, husky and unconsciously sensual. Or maybe it was that accent that just made everything she said seem insanely pleasing. Connor was willing to bet she could read a grocery list and sound sexy. He felt, crazily, as if he could listen to her all day.

      “I think it was close to three in the morning when I arrived.”

      She nodded. “Nico told me your arrival would be very late. That’s why I closed the shutters when I prepared your room. To block out the light so you could sleep in. I was just leaving you something to eat this morning. I have to be at work in a few minutes.”

      “Schoolteacher?” he guessed.

      She frowned at him. “Nico told you that?”

      “No, I guessed.”

      “But how?”

      “You just have that look about you.”

      “Is this a good thing or a bad thing to have this look about me?”

      He shrugged, realizing he shouldn’t have said anything. It was part of what he did. He was very, very good at reading people. He could almost always tell, within seconds, what kind of lifestyle someone had, the general direction of their career paths and pursuits, if not the specifics. Sometimes his life and the lives of others depended on that ability to accurately read and sort details. This was something she, living here in her sheltered little village in Italy, did not have to know.

      “I still do not understand if it is a good thing or a bad thing to have this schoolteacher look about me,” she pressed.

      “A good thing,” he assured her.

      She looked skeptical.

      “You’re very tidy. And organized.” He gestured at the tray beside his door. “And thoughtful, closing the shutters so I could sleep in. So, I figured some profession that required compassion. A teacher. Or a nurse. But the dress made me lean toward teacher. Your students probably like bright colors.”

      He was talking way too much, which he put down as another aftereffect of jet lag. She was nibbling her lip, which was plump as a plum, and frowning at him.

      “It’s like a magician’s trick,” she said, not approvingly.

      “No, really, it’s something everyone can do. It’s just observing details.”

      She looked as if she was considering having another long, hard look at all of him, as if he had invited her to play a parlor game. But then, wisely, she decided against it.

      Connor glanced at the tray set so carefully by his door, more proof of a tidy, organized, caring personality. It was loaded with a carafe of coffee and rolls still steaming from the oven. There was a small glass jar of homemade preserves and a large orange.

      The fact he had guessed right about her being a teacher did not alleviate his annoyance with himself over this other stupid error. He’d heard someone sneaking around, all right—sneaking his breakfast into place so as not to disturb him.

      “Thank you,” he said, “for taking me in on such short notice. I should have made arrangements for a place to stay before I arrived, but I didn’t think it was going to be a problem. When I researched it, there seemed to be lots of accommodations in the village.”

      “There are many accommodations here, and usually there would be more availability,” she offered. “Today looks as if it will be an exception, but it is usually not overly hot in May. That makes it the preferred month for weddings in Tuscany.”

       Weddings.

      “Ah, СКАЧАТЬ