Nora Roberts - Remember When

Jenny struggled to look annoyed, then barked out a laugh. "Okay, so he probably wasn't planning on knocking over the joint."

"I'm going to take exception if you keep calling my shop a joint."

"But he had to be up to something. He gave you his card, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"So maybe he was hoping to sell you stolen merchandise. Who'd look in a place like this for hot goods? Like I told Vince, he probably did a job recently, and maybe his usual fence dried up or something, so he had to find a way to turn the goods, and fast."

"And of all the antique stores in all the world, he walks into mine?" She laughed it off, but there was a twist in her gut as she wondered if that was indeed the reason Willy had come to her door.

"Well, he had to walk into one, why not yours?"

"Ah... because this isn't a TV movie of the week?"

"You have to admit it's strange."

"Yes, it's strange, and it's sad. And it's also ten o'clock, Jen. Let's open and see what the day brings."

It brought, as expected, the gossip hounds and gawkers, but Jenny was able to exchange theories with a few customers while she rang up genuine sales. It was cowardly, but Laine decided to take the yellow feather and escape into the back with the excuse of paperwork while Jenny handled the shop.

She'd stolen barely twenty minutes of solitude when Jenny poked her head in.

"Honey, you've got to see this."

"Unless it's a dog that can juggle while riding a unicycle, I need to update this spreadsheet."

"It's better." Jenny jerked her head toward the shop, stepping back with the door open.

Since her curiosity was piqued, Laine slipped out after her. She saw him, holding a green Depression glass water glass up to the light. It seemed entirely too delicate, too feminine, for a man wearing a battered bomber jacket and worn hiking boots. But he didn't fumble it as he set it down and picked up its mate for a similar study.

"Mmmm." Jenny made the same sound she made when contemplating jelly doughnuts.

"That's the kind of long drink of water a woman wants to down in one big slurp."

"Pregnant married women shouldn't slurp at strange men."

"Doesn't mean we can't appreciate the scenery."

"Mixing metaphors." She elbowed her friend. "And staring. Wipe the drool off your chin and go make a sale."

"You take him. I gotta pee. Pregnant woman, you know."

Before Laine could object, Jenny nipped into the back. More amused than irritated, Laine started across the room. "Hi."

She had her friendly merchant smile in place when he turned, and his eyes locked on hers.

She felt the punch dead center of the belly, with the aftershocks of it radiating down to her kneecaps. She could almost feel cohesive thought drain out of her brain, replaced by something along the lines of: Oh. Well. Wow.

"Hi back." He kept the glass in his hand and just looked at her.

He had tiger eyes, she thought dimly. Big, dangerous cat eyes. And the half smile on his face as he stared at her had what could only be lust pooling at the back of her throat. "Um..." Fascinated by her own reaction, she let out a half laugh, shook her head. "Sorry, mind was wandering. Do you collect?"

"Not so far. My mama does."

"Oh." He had a mama. Wasn't that sweet? "Does she stick to any particular pattern?"

He grinned now, and Laine cheerfully allowed the top of her head to blow off.

"She doesn't-in any area whatsoever. She likes... the variety of the unexpected. Me too." He set the glass down. "Like this place."

"Excuse me?"

"A little treasure box tucked away in the mountains."

"Thank you."

And so was she, unexpected, he thought. Bright-the hair, the eyes, the smile.

Pretty as a strawberry parfait and a hell of a lot sexier. Not in the full-out, warmly bawdy way the brunette had struck him, but in a secret, I'll-surprise-you way that made him want to know more.

"Georgia?" she asked, and his left eyebrow lifted a fraction.

"Tagged."

"I'm good with accents. Does your mother have a birthday coming up?"

"She stopped having them about ten years ago. We just call it Marlene's Day."

"Smart woman. Those tumblers are the Tea Room pattern, and in fairly short supply. You don't often see a set of six like this, and in perfect condition.

I can give you a nice price on the complete set."

He picked one up again but continued to look at her. "I get to haggle?"

"It's required." She stepped closer to lift another glass and show him the price on the bottom. "As you can see, they're fifty each, but if you want the set, I'll give them to you for two seventy-five."

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you smell really good." It was some smoky fragrance you didn't notice until it had you by the throat. "Really good. Two and a quarter."

She never flirted, never flirted with customers, but found herself turning toward him, standing just a little closer than was strictly business and smiling into those dangerous eyes. "Thanks, I'm glad you like it. Two-sixty, and that's a steal."

"Throw in the shipping to Savannah and have dinner with me and we've got a deal."

It had been too long, entirely too long, since she'd felt that little thrill swim through the blood. "Shipping-and a drink, with the option for dinner at a later time and place. It's a good offer."

"Yeah, it is. Seven o'clock? They've got a nice bar at the Wayfarer."

"Yes, they do. Seven's fine. How would you like to pay for this?"

He took out a credit card, handed it to her.

"Max Gannon," she read. "Just Max? Not Maxwell, Maximillian, Maxfield." She caught the slight wince and laughed. "Maxfield, as in Parrish."

"Just Max," he said, very firmly.

"All right then, Just Max, but I have a couple of very good framed Parrish posters in the next room."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She walked away and behind the counter, then laid a shipping form on it. "Why don't you write down the shipping information. We'll have this out this afternoon."

"Efficient, too." He leaned against the counter as he filled in the form.

"You've got my name. Do I get yours?"

"It's Tavish. Laine Tavish."

He kept his smile easy as he looked up. "Just Laine? Not Elaine?"

She didn't flick an eyelash. "Just Laine." She rang up the sale and handed him a pretty gold-foiled gift card. "We'll include this, and gift wrap, if you'd like to write a message to your mother."

She glanced over as the bells rang, and the Twins came in.

"Laine." Carla made a beeline for the counter. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Just fine. I'll be right with you."

"We were worried, weren't we, Darla?"

"We certainly were."

"No need." With something like panic, she willed Jenny to come back in. The interlude with Max had driven the grief and the worry over Willy out of her mind. Now, it was flooding back. "I'll get those things I have on hold for you as soon as I'm finished here."

"Don't you rush." Carla was already angling her head so she could read the destination on the shipping form. "Our Laine prides herself on good customer service," she told Max.

"And certainly delivers. Ladies, you are a two-scoop treat for the eyes."

They blushed, in unison.

"Your card, Mr. Gannon, and your receipt."

"Thank you, Ms. Tavish."

"I hope your mother enjoys her gift."

"I'm sure she will." His eyes laughed into hers before he turned to the Twins.

"Ladies."

The three women watched him walk out. There was a prolonged beat of silence, then Carla let out a long, long breath and said simply, "My, oh my."

Max's smile faded the minute he was out on the street. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he told himself. Having a drink with an attractive woman at the end of the day was a normal, pleasant activity, and his inalienable right as a healthy, single man.