Read Online Morelli's Mistress (Harlequin Presents) by Anne Mather - Free Book Online Page A

of view, the weekend was usually her busiest time. Shoppers, who came into the small town at weekends to do their weekly shop, often came into the café for either coffee or lunch. But at least she’d have a whole day off on Sunday.
    Inside the apartment, she went into the small kitchen to put her shopping away and give Harley his supper. As well as the kitchen, there was a living room, which she’d furnished from the saleroom, with a dining alcove, and a reasonably-sized bedroom and bath. It was nothing like the upmarket apartment she’d shared with Harry. But, by comparison, it was heaven on earth.
    Or it had been.
    With the retriever seen to, Abby regarded the contents of her fridge without enthusiasm. She wasn’t particularly hungry and she decided to have a shower before tackling her own meal.
    Leaving Harley to his kibble, she went into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she did so. The shower was hot and she stood for several minutes letting the water cascade over her. She usually enjoyed the sensation, but tonight she couldn’t seem to relax.
    She hadn’t forgotten that it was over three weeks since Luke’s visit to the café. Three weeks since they’d had that altercation that had culminated in Abby throwing him out. Well, asking him to go, she amended ruefully. There was no way she could have got him to leave if he hadn’t decided to do so.
    Whatever, she knew he was the real cause of her depression. And not just because of the business either. It was obvious he still considered that she was to blame for Harry’s behaviour. But she was damned if she was going to try and tell him the truth, only to have him throw her words back in her face.
    Besides, since moving to Ashford, she’d put all that misery behind her. Just occasionally, when she went back to visit her mother’s grave, the whole sorry affair jumped back into her mind.
    Her mother would have been horrified had she even suspected the kind of life Abby had been leading before she died. But it had been worth it to ensure that Annabel Lacey had never wanted for anything.
    Stepping out of the shower, she was towelling herself dry when she heard someone knocking at the outer door. Not to say ‘hammering’, she thought impatiently as Harley started barking. She wondered who on earth it could be.
    The only person who came to mind was Greg Hughes and she had no intention of letting him in. But in all the years she’d been here, he’d never bothered her after dark.
    The hammering started again and Harley’s barking grew to a crescendo. If she wasn’t careful, Miss Miller, who ran the gift shop on the other side of the café, and who also lived above the business, would begin to think something was wrong.
    She couldn’t have that, and, tossing the towel aside, she wrung most of the water out of her hair and reached for her towelling bathrobe. Then, wrapping the folds about herself, she emerged into the living room where Harley was making so much noise.
    ‘Quiet,’ she said reprovingly, when the dog came to fuss about her. He was wagging his tail, but she knew better than to trust his judgement of who it might be.
    It crossed her mind she shouldn’t open the door without first identifying her caller. She had one or two friends in Ashford; Lori Yates, for instance. But she would usually ring before turning up.
    Biting her tongue, she opened the door to the stairs and paused, switching on the light. Of course, Harley had no such reservations and immediately ran down the stairs to the hall below. He barked again, as if saying, What are you waiting for? And with a resigned sigh, Abby followed him down.
    She hesitated and then called warily, ‘Who is it?’
    ‘Me!’ Despite the fact that she shouldn’t instantly recognise the voice, it was unmistakeable. ‘Open the door, Abby. It’s pouring down out here.’
    Luke!
    Abby expelled an unsteady breath. What was Luke doing at her door?
    ‘I—I’m not dressed,’ she replied at last as Harley