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Автор: Carol Marinelli
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежные любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474085250
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to explain. ‘I had a woman, I think her husband beats her—actually, I don’t think, I know. She wouldn’t let me help her. I can see now that I rushed in, but I didn’t want her to go home to him. I knew what he’d be like when they got home, you could just tell he was annoyed that she was even at the hospital, even though he’d put her there. Anyway, she wouldn’t let me get a social worker or the police....’ She turned and saw the flash of worry on his face. ‘I didn’t confront him or anything, he’s none the wiser that I know.’

      ‘You can’t help her if she doesn’t want it.’

      ‘I gave her my phone number.’ Izzy waited for his reaction, waited for him to tell her not to get involved, that she had been foolish, but instead he thought for a long moment before commenting.

      ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that your phone number would be a very nice thing to have.’ She blinked. ‘And I’m not flirting,’ Diego said, and she actually gave a small smile. ‘Other times I flirt, but not then. Did you talk to anyone?’

      ‘No,’ Izzy admitted. ‘Megan, we’re friends,’ she explained, ‘asked me what was wrong once, and I remember then that I nearly told her. God—’ regret wrapped her words ‘—I wish I had. I was on my way to my mum’s when it happened—I was going to tell her. Henry and I had had a massive row that morning. I knew I was pregnant, that I had to get out of the marriage. I told him I was leaving, I still wasn’t sure how, but I came to work, scraped through the shift and afterwards I was going to land on my parents’ doorstep...’ she gave a shrug ‘...or Megan’s. All I knew was that I wasn’t going home.’

      ‘What if someone had given you a phone number?’ Diego asked. ‘If you had known that that person knew what it was like...’

      ‘I’d have rung them,’ Izzy said. ‘Not straight away perhaps.’ Then she nodded, confirmed to herself that she hadn’t done a stupid thing. ‘What do I say if she rings?’

      ‘What would you have wanted someone to say to you?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Izzy admitted. ‘Just to listen...’

      She’d answered her own question and Izzy leant back on the seat and closed her eyes for a moment, actually glad that he had got into the car, glad that he hadn’t left her alone, glad that he was there.

      And she didn’t want to think about it any more so instead she turned to him.

      ‘I forgive you.’

      ‘Cómo?’ Diego frowned. ‘Forgive me for what?’

      ‘Having a satchel.’ She watched as a smile spread across his face and she smiled too. ‘I never thought I could,’ Izzy said, seriously joking, ‘but I do.’

      ‘Leave my satchel alone,’ Diego said, and he saw something then, her humour, a glimpse of the real Izzy that would soon be unearthed, because she would come out of this, Diego was sure of that. She would grow and she would rise and she would become more of the woman he was glimpsing now.

      He knew.

      And he knew if he stayed another minute he’d kiss her.

      ‘I’d better go,’ Diego said, because he really thought he’d better.

      ‘I’ll drive you.’

      ‘No, because then I would have to ask you in.’

      ‘Would that be so bad?’ Izzy asked, because it felt as if he was kissing her, she could see his mouth and almost taste it on hers. Sitting in the car, she didn’t want him to get out and she didn’t want to drive on. She wanted to stay in this moment, but Diego was moving them along.

      ‘If you come in, I might not want you to leave...’ It was big and it was unexpected and the last thing either had planned for, yet, ready or not, it was happening. ‘We need to think.’

      He climbed out of her car and Izzy sat there. Without him beside her logic seeped in.

      It was way too soon.

      It was impossibly way too soon.

      And yet, had he chosen to, he could have kissed her.

       CHAPTER SIX

      QUÉ diablos estás haciendo?

      As Diego pushed through the waves, over and over he asked himself what on earth he was doing.

      On leaving Izzy, he’d gone home to find Sally in the car outside his flat, with a bottle of wine and a dazzling smile, but instead of asking her in, he’d sent her on her way. The words ‘It’s been good, but...’ had hung in the air, as had the sound of her tears, but it had been the only outcome to their relationship, Diego had realised as he’d let himself into his flat.

      It had been good.

      Sencillo, Diego’s favourite word—straightforward, uncomplicated. Sally had been all those things and everything Diego had thought he wanted in a relationship. Only his life had suddenly become a touch more complicated.

      He needed to think and he couldn’t do that with Sally. Wouldn’t do that to Sally and also he needed to be very sure himself.

      Walking out of the water towards the beach, he wasn’t sure if he was even pleased that Izzy had taken his advice, for there she was, walking along the beach, her face flushing when she saw him.

      ‘I thought you were on an early...’

      ‘I’m on a management day, so I don’t have to be in till nine,’ Diego explained, then he teased, ‘Why? Were you trying to avoid me?’

      ‘Of course not!’ Izzy lied.

      ‘It’s good to see you out.’

      ‘It’s good to be out,’ Izzy admitted. ‘I used to walk on the beach each morning. I don’t know why I stopped.’

      ‘You’ve had a lot to deal with.’

      Which she had, but Izzy hadn’t walked since her marriage, another little thing she’d given up in an attempt to please Henry, but she didn’t say anything.

      ‘Do you want company?’

      And she looked into dark eyes that were squinting against the morning sun, his black hair dripping, unshaven, wet, and his toned body, way smoother than a name like Ramirez suggested, and she didn’t know what she wanted because, here was the thing, she’d spent the whole night in turmoil, telling herself she was being ridiculous, that it was impossible, that she should be sorting out herself instead of getting involved with someone.

      She didn’t actually have to tell herself. The books said the same too, even Jess.

      But here, on the beach, when she should be thinking alone, it was his company her heart required. Here in the lovely fresh start of morning it just seemed natural for them to talk.

      They walked along the beach, admiring the rugged Cornish coastline. Despite the warmth of summer, the wind was up, making the beach the coolest place as the breeze skimmed off the ocean and stung her cheeks, and it was a relief to talk about him.

      ‘This beach is one of the reasons I choose to settle in St Piran. I love the beach.’

      ‘What about Madrid? Do you miss it?’

      ‘The nearest beach is Valencia. Over a hundred miles away...’ Perhaps he realised he was being evasive. ‘Sometimes I miss it. I have been away two years now...’ She glanced at him when his voice trailed off.

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘My family and I were rowing—we did not part on good terms,’ Diego admitted. ‘We get on a bit better now. I talk to my mother often on the telephone, but for a while there was no contact.’

      He left it there, for now. But there was something about the ocean. It was so vast and