Harlequin Romance March 2021 Box Set by Cara Colter (best novel books to read .TXT) 📕

He shook his head again, but his lips lifted and his admiration buoyed her. ‘You must want this job really badly.’

She thought of Dominic, and the way he’d gnash his teeth when he found out that she’d landed his dream job. His face, though, was hard to bring to mind.

‘Mystery Family Trees asks its celebrity guests to do exactly this. I mean the underlying premise of the show is to illustrate history on a personal level, as a kind of living and breathing entity, but it can become extremely personal for the person whose family is being traced. It can be uplifting, but it can also be shocking. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I refused to follow through on my own family tree, just because I might not like the answers I find?’

She pushed her shoulders back.

‘I’m doing this for my own curiosity as much as to get the job. I’ve come too far to turn back. But I understand if you don’t want to meet Richard. You can drop me off and I’ll text you once I’m ready to leave.’

Owen reached across and took her hand. ‘Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m leaving you to do this on your own. I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

His reassurance and the warmth in his eyes had her chin lifting. With Owen beside her she felt as if she could achieve anything. She was on the cusp of a new life—a new job, living in a new place—and she was falling for the kind of guy she’d only ever dreamed about. It was all there, just waiting for her, and she wasn’t going to mess it up.

* * *

Half an hour later Owen pulled the car into the driveway of a large and very beautiful house. Callie’s pulse thudded. ‘It’s not exactly a shabby pile of bricks, is it?’

‘Larchmont isn’t exactly a shabby little town.’

He could say that again—and Richard’s house looked as if it might be one of the town’s most desirable residences. It was a turn-of-the-century colonial mansion, with stained-glass windows, and a deep front porch that oozed charm and tranquillity. And then she remembered how he’d acquired this home—by taking Frances to the cleaners.

She swung to Owen. ‘Remember the plan.’

His lip curled. ‘Yeah, yeah. Be charming, be polite, find out what we can. Don’t call him names, don’t accuse him of anything, don’t punch him on the nose.’

‘He’s in his sixties and you’re in your thirties. You can’t hit the man. Besides…’ she turned to stare at the house again ‘…it’s hard to know what goes on inside other people’s marriages. You heard all that Eliza, Betty and Josephine had to say.’ She said the words as much for herself as for Owen. ‘It’s obvious that Frances could be stubborn. She might not have been an easy person to be married to.’

His warm hand closed over hers and the smile he gave when she met his gaze had her heart turning over in her chest. She was glad he was here with her.

‘Do you always try to see the good in other people?’ he asked.

‘I…’ Did she do that? She hoped so. ‘Come on. Let’s do this before I chicken out. The sooner it’s over, the sooner…’

‘You can continue your search for your father.’

‘The sooner we can go back to your place for the pizza you promised me and stretch out on your sofa and…kick back.’

A wicked gleam lit his eyes. ‘Or we could kick back in my bed.’

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to stop herself smiling too broadly. ‘To…um…talk.’ But she inflected the word talk with so much extra meaning those teasing lips of Owen’s widened even further.

‘Because I’m such a good communicator,’ he agreed.

She started to laugh, and it helped to dispel her nerves.

He slipped a hand beneath her hair and drew her face close to his. ‘Hold that thought,’ he murmured.

And then he kissed her—a brief, blistering kiss that had her blood pumping and heat rushing into her cheeks.

He eased back, his eyes travelling over her face as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He nodded towards the house. ‘Ready?’

She pulled in a breath and reluctantly eased away. ‘Ready.’

The moment the door opened and she came face to face with Richard she could see why Frances had fallen for him. The man had charisma, and even at sixty-one he was still ridiculously good-looking. His greeting was effusive, and he was all charm, but Callie sensed that his charm was too practised, too calculated…and beneath the glittering cheerfulness in his too-blue eyes she sensed wariness.

When they were seated with coffee and cake in a conservatory that overlooked the canal—a magnificently peaceful view—he turned to Callie. ‘So you’re Frances’s granddaughter?’

She nodded.

‘I will confess myself surprised by your email.’

Gut instinct told her to not prevaricate or pretend she didn’t know his and Frances’s history. ‘Because of the way your marriage to Frances ended?’

‘Precisely. But what you have to understand, my dear, is that one only experiences that kind of acrimony, that intensity of feeling, when they have loved greatly. And Frances and I did love each other very much.’

Ooh, the man was oily. But two could play this game. She leaned towards him. ‘You know, that’s what I thought. I saw the photos of your wedding and the two of you looked so happy.’

He pretended to wipe away a tear. ‘We were, my dear, we were.’

She made commiserating noises. ‘I only learned about Frances when, upon her death, I was informed I’d inherited a substantial fortune. I feel as if I’ve missed out on so much.’

His eyes gleamed briefly at the mention of Frances’s money and she knew she had the man pegged correctly. He was a fortune-hunter, and if he thought there was money to be made from her he’d do all that he could to take advantage of it.

Silently she thanked Owen for insisting on accompanying her. Not that she couldn’t have done this on her own. Of