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

Jonas felt a shiver of shock go through his system. He glanced at the woman, and could see she was fighting back tears.

“He’s not a scumbag,” the quavering voice beside him offered.

Given that he had held her over a barrel with his offer to help her for a price—even though he had been kidding—Jonas thought that was very generous.

“It’s my fault. I should have been phoning people and letting them know about Aunt Jane. Just in case they hadn’t done what, apparently, scumbags do and read the obituaries. I’m supposed to be looking after things.”

She was so genuine that both the policeman relaxed noticeably. “Your aunt was a much-loved fixture in this community,” one of them offered. “She’ll be missed by all of us.”

She hiccuped. And then a tiny little noise escaped her, like the mew of a hurt kitten.

All three men in the room reacted in the same way—silence, stiffening body postures, an exchange of panicky looks.

A crime in progress was one thing. Largely manageable, a defined response called for and given, an event with a high possibility of a defined and satisfactory ending.

Tears falling—female tears—was quite another.

Within minutes the explanations had been given and accepted, the men in blue had reset the alarm and left with what appeared to Jonas to be uncommon haste.

He could see why. With those huge dark eyes misted with tears, and that full bottom lip trembling with emotion, she had become the kind of woman any man feared most.

Totally vulnerable. Soft. Needy. One who could use a strong shoulder to cry on. He could, unfortunately, picture her clinging like a limpet, sobbing against him, him patting her back…

Stop it, Jonas ordered himself. He slid a longing look at the door that the other men had just exited, took a deep breath and decided to finish this business as quickly as possible.

“Your aunt died?” Jonas said. “Why didn’t you say something instead of letting me act like a complete jerk?”

“Maybe not a complete jerk,” she said with a little sniffle. “Fifty percent. You did offer me a get-out-of-jail-for-free card.”

“Only not for free,” he reminded her. “Why didn’t you tell me? Right away?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to shout it through the door. I’ve been having trouble letting people know. I think it helps me keep the reality of it from setting in. I know lots of people thought she was eccentric—

Madame Cosmos, he thought guiltily.

“But she was the most loving person I ever knew. She was the only person in my family I could count on. She was—”

And then she was crying. Big sobs that shook her whole body, exactly the kind of sobs he and the policemen had been trying to head off at the pass since the clouds of that particular storm had first gathered in her eyes.

“I thought I could just send you a letter. And the refund, so that th-this didn’t happen.”

What was a man to do? Jonas looked longingly at the door one more time.

“Hey,” he said, trying for his most empathetic tone, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” she cried. “I loved her. I loved her more than anyone in the whole world!”

Empathetic tones were probably not his strong suit. Her distress required a response from him, whether he wanted to give one or not.

Like a man going to the gallows—a man with not one single option left—he went to her.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. The reassurance had not worked the first time, and it did not work now. The tears were streaming down her face. It was a good thing she didn’t have on any mascara! A wail of pure despair came from her.

With no options left, he folded his arms around her.

His last hope was that she would be sensible—she looked like the sensible type—and that she would push him away.

But she did not. And oddly, he did not feel as if he had just climbed the stairs to the gallows. As she nestled into him, a lovely warmth enveloped him. He could feel her tears puddling on his shirt, and after hesitating for just a second, his hand found her hair and he stroked the wild, springy silk of it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over, his tone as soothing as he knew how to make it. Touching her hair seemed to be releasing a scent that reminded him of the bouquet of fresh spring flowers he had given his sister for Mother’s Day. The aroma was fresh and light and ever so faintly spicy.

“Th-thank y-you.” She didn’t attempt to pull away. “I’m not usually so emotional.”

“Ah.”

“Really.”

The really was followed by a hiccup. Adorable.

He acted fast. “I withdraw the proposal. The fiancée for a weekend, the whole fake mate thing.”

She gave him a watery smile at the fake mate reference, then tilted her head and looked up at him, gauging something. Apparently, she reached the wrong conclusion, that he was a decent guy.

“These might be the dumbest words I ever said,” she said softly, “but why don’t you tell me why you have a sudden, urgent need for an engagement? My aunt must have thought your reasons were compelling. I might consider your offer, after all.”

Now that he had actually felt her soft curves pressed against him, now that his shirt was wet from her tears, now that the enchanting scent of her hair was burned into his brain, probably forever, now that he had found her hiccup adorable, that didn’t seem like it was a very good idea.

He stepped back from her rapidly and looked at her, took in those huge eyes, tears studded in the lashes and strands of luscious hair just beginning to pull free from the clasp that held them, the plump lip, that looked freshly licked, somehow, quivering.

Jonas was pretty sure he needed someone not complicated and he was pretty sure this woman in front of him would not fit that criteria. At all.

Her name, provided to the police, came to his lips. “Kristen—”

“Krissy,” she