Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)

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Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper

Didn't she have parents, or people that cared about her? It frankly appalled Eduardo that she was reduced to singing for her supper on the streets instead of earning her living by more comfortable means.

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It dawned on him that she was the first person to stir him out of his solitary existence for months—a state that had begun even before he had set foot on British shores from Brazil and made the impulsive decision to reside there. Well…the turbulent events of the past two years might have taken their toll, resulting in him becoming somewhat reclusive and distant from the rest of the human race, but he was definitely not looking for remedies to rectify that situation, he reminded himself.

No…His interest in the girl was just a passing curiosity that would no doubt quickly fade. At any time she could move on, and he would likely never see her again. He paused to put a note into the tatty tweed cap that lay on the ground at her feet, and weighted it down with two fifty pence pieces to keep it from being snatched away by the wind.

She stopped strumming and reached for the note, pressing it back into Eduardo's gloved hand. Their glances caught and held, and he had the most disturbing sensation that the ground had somehow shifted beneath him. If you want to donate some money to a charity there's a church just up the road, collecting for the local homeless…St Mary's. I'm neither a charity nor homeless. A great irritation surfaced inside Eduardo, and he could hardly fathom the reason for the intensity of it—other than that he wasn't used to having his generosity rejected.

Why was he even wasting time talking to such a strange girl? He should simply walk away, abandon her to her peculiar philosophy of singing for mere pennies and leave her be.

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But he found he could not. Even though the waif had insisted she was neither in need of charity nor a home, somehow her predicament had got to him—reached past his usual iron-clad defences and caused a surprising dent. It was—as he had concluded earlier—just that this was the first time for months that he had voluntarily made contact on purpose with someone else, and he hardly welcomed his considerate action being thrown back in his face. Haven't you ever done something just for the sheer love of it and for no other reason?

Her question struck him silent for a moment, and he barely knew what to do with the discomfort that made his skin prickle and burn and his throat lock tight. Knowing his expression had become frozen and uncommunicative, as was his usual habit, Eduardo shrugged, suddenly eager to return to the anonymity of the rest of the passersby and the ponderous but familiar burden of his own tormented thoughts. You merely wanted to make yourself feel good by leaving me a ridiculously generous amount of money, then walk away again satisfied that you'd done your good deed for the day.

Wishing with all his heart that he had ignored that bothersome rogue impulse to reach out to someone who he'd genuinely believed to be in need, Eduardo gripped the ivory handle of his walking cane and moved awkwardly away. He had practically reached the end of the street before his acute hearing once again picked up the strumming of the girl's guitar, along with her mournfully toned voice.

Had she been watching him? It troubled him deeply to realise that she must have been doing exactly that—else why wait so long to resume singing?

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  • Yes, she had been watching him. Was she by any chance feeling sorry for him? The thought was like corrosive acid in his blood. Well, if he was ever unlucky enough to see her again he would make a deliberate point of ignoring her, he vowed. Who the hell did she think she was anyway—rebuffing his goodwill like that. But as Eduardo painfully forced his stride into a more rapid pace, the question she'd asked echoed tauntingly round his brain and constricted his already tortured heart without mercy. To his profound shame, moisture stung the back of his eyelids and, murmuring a vehement curse, he walked blindly on into the centre of town, hardly caring that his injured leg was taking unfair punishment—all because an insignificant slip of a girl had scorned his money and pricked his pride.

    The temperature had plummeted to near freezing. Barely able to feel any sensation at all in her numbed fingers as they moved over the guitar strings, Marianne decided to call it a day.

    Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper - Maggie Cox - Google Книги

    The idea of a mug of creamy hot chocolate nursed in front of a roaring fire drew her swiftly homewards, and she strove hard to blot out the fact that she would be returning to an empty house. A silent, echoing mausoleum, where everything from the daintiest ornament to the lovely music room with its shining grand piano was a haunting reminder of the husband and friend who had been taken from her much too soon. Go and see the world…meet new people, travel…live, for God's sake.

    Live for the both of us. And she would…but not yet.

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    She was still finding her bearings without a compass, in a world empty of the one person who had really cared for her. She was inching forward slowly but surely. Busking in the street might seem a strange place to start. But having had a dread of performing in public that she wanted to overcome, so that from time to time she could sing in the local folk club without going to pieces, as far as moving on with her life went Marianne saw it as an entirely positive step. Not only was she facing down her fear and thriving at the same time, she was saying to the universe Is that the worst you can do?

    Take my husband from me and leave me alone again? Well, just watch this! Every day she was becoming more and more confident. Yet again, music had saved her. Donal would have been proud that she'd found the courage to take such a radical if unconventional step towards her own healing—even if his two adult children from his previous marriage were not, instead taking it as a sign that she must be unstable…A sign that she must have had some 'not quite right' influence on their father, to make him ignore them and leave everything to her in his will instead.

    Just then, out of the blue, a stranger's chiselled hard face overlaid her husband's kind, familiar one, and Marianne was shocked to recall the man who had put a fifty-pound note in her cap. Not for one second did she doubt it had been the real deal. Not only had he looked wealthy—as if he lived an elite lifestyle that was way beyond the ordinary dreams of a secure, comfortable life for regular people—but he had smelled wealthy too. He'd spoken perfect English, with a trace of an accent—South American, perhaps?

    Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern) Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)
    Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern) Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)
    Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern) Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)
    Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern) Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)
    Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern) Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)

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