The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER THREE

      OH…NO.

      As if she could cope with her day getting even worse!

      Of all the people to discover her at her lowest point in so many years, it had to be Nico Moretti.

      Charlotte did her utmost to stem the tide of her tears. She turned her back on Nico and leant on the balustrade of the balcony, gripping the roughened concrete so hard she could feel tendrils of pain in her fingers that flickered into her arms. She fixed her gaze on the canal beneath and blinked again and again, trying to clear the wetness that didn’t want to stop. Why couldn’t it go back where it had come from, instead of continuing to roll down her face in these humiliating tears?

      He didn’t say anything. He just came to stand beside her. He, too, seemed to be gazing at the view and he spread his hands on the balustrade as if the only reason he was there was to admire their surroundings.

      Charlotte’s panic ebbed a little as he just stood there, a silent presence.

      She’d never had company during the most unhappy periods in her life. Her first instinct, even as a young child so bereft at the loss of her parents, had been to hide. To cry alone. And feel alone. To accept that life was a terribly lonely business and you just had to deal with that.

      There was comfort to be found in simply being close to another person. To feel the presence of another living, breathing human.

      The fact that Nico wasn’t saying anything made it easy to accept his presence. She didn’t have to try and find excuses or explain anything, and to have someone there who was clearly prepared to accept the state she was in made it feel as if it was okay not to be coping. As if she had support.

      Strong support. Bit by bit, Charlotte found her thoughts creeping out from the dark knot in her head. She was aware of how big Nico was. Well over six feet in height and broad with it. His hands against the ancient concrete looked huge and powerful but his fingers were long and artistic looking. Clever hands, no doubt capable of performing the careful, intricate movements that were needed when you were dealing with something as precious as brain tissue.

      Charlotte blinked again and, amazingly, her vision wasn’t blurred any more. Without raising her head from its bowed position, she could study his neatly trimmed nails and olive-brown skin and the smattering of dark hair on the backs of his hands that disappeared under the turned-back cuffs of his white shirt.

      Her head turned, as if her gaze was being pulled up by an external force. Up his arms, across his chest, where a loosened tie hung like a necklace and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. It was impossible not to flick her gaze up to his face now, but it was safe. He was still staring down at the canal so Charlotte let her gaze linger for a moment on the strong profile. Unfairly luxurious eyelashes that brushed his cheeks when he blinked. A nose that made no apology for the space it took and deep creases on each side that ran down to meet a mouth that looked as if it smiled often and easily.

      A jaw that looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in a fair few hours. And a firmness to it that suggested tension. Was he gritting his teeth? Was he standing there not knowing what to say? Wishing he was somewhere else?

      ‘I’m sorry.’ The words came out as a whisper. ‘I’ve had…It’s been…’ she had to take a tiny gulp of air ‘…a weird kind of day.’

      ‘I understand.’ Nico moved finally, but only his head. He angled it a little towards Charlotte. And then he smiled at her.

      And…dear Lord…what a smile. Slow and so full of warmth. The most genuine smile she had ever seen. And it was for her. She had to catch her breath again.

      ‘And I have a horrible feeling I might have contributed to your day not being the one you hoped for,’ Nico continued. ‘I really must apologise again.’

      His voice was as warm as that smile. The Irish lilt was unmistakeable but, if he had been in Ireland, they would hear something else. An Italian inflection that made it unique. An astonishing accent colouring a depth that was as masculine as his size and aura of power.

      How many women had fallen in love with that voice already?

      Not that she was about to join the ranks. Charlotte cleared her throat.

      ‘No…really. Losing my laptop was nothing compared to…’ Oh, help. Had she really been about to break one of her most ironclad rules and share personal information with a professional colleague?

      ‘Compared to what, cara?’

      It was the endearment that did her in. An endearment in a foreign language that somehow made it inoffensive and genuinely caring.

      ‘My…grandmother is here. She’s not well and…and it’s possible she might not have…’ Charlotte’s intake of breath was a small sob. ‘Might not have much time left.’

      ‘Ohhh…’ The sound was a drawn-out note of understanding. Empathy.

      This man was a stranger even if they had met before. She would probably never see him again after today. So it didn’t really count as sharing personal information, did it? Nobody would be giving her meaningful glances at work or gossiping about her in the cafeteria at St Margaret’s. As if it would help with the anonymity, Charlotte fixed her gaze on the canal again. She could be simply talking aloud to herself.

      ‘She’s the most important person in the world to me,’ she said softly. ‘My parents both got killed in a horrible accident when I was eight years old. I was in the accident too and came out as a terrified shell of a child who wouldn’t even speak to anyone for months. Gran never cared how tough it got, she was always so patient and so loving. So proud of any achievements I managed.’

      ‘She would have had a lot to be proud of.’

      Charlotte’s breath came out in a huff of incredulity as she twisted sharply to glare at Nico. He was so used to giving women compliments, wasn’t he? Meaningless compliments that demeaned what she was trying to tell him about her wonderful grandmother.

      ‘What makes you think you know anything about me?’ The words came out tight and accusing. And then Charlotte shook her head and swallowed fresh tears. ‘You know nothing.’

      There was a flash in his eyes but, while he might be startled by the verbal attack, he didn’t look away.

      ‘I know that a few years ago I met a woman who would have made anybody who loved her immensely proud,’ he said calmly. ‘But you’re correct…I know nothing about you on a personal level.’

      His gaze still held hers and there was something else in his eyes now. Respect? Curiosity?

      ‘So tell me,’ he invited. And then he smiled again. ‘I’m listening.’

      She was about to walk away.

      Nico could sense the internal struggle but, dammit, he wanted to hear more. He knew perfectly well he was taking advantage of finding Charlotte in a state that made her vulnerable but he wasn’t about to use the situation to his own advantage. Quite the opposite! His only motivation for coming out to this balcony and interrupting an obviously private moment had been to offer assistance.

      He owed her that, surely?

      Even though she had