Dane rolled his eyes. “You know, if this doesn’t turn out to be a wild goose chase, and she really is who you think, she’s going to be pissed as hell that you pried into her background.”
“I know that. Which is why I never want her to know. I don’t want her to be hurt by this.”
“Then what difference will it make?”
“It won’t make any difference. Just do it, Dane. Get me the information. Now, about those property taxes…”
Jared set up at one of the tables in the farthest corner from the door of the shop. He’d opened an area real estate site with the intention of browsing available properties but found himself watching Annabelle instead.
Since he’d returned after meeting with Dane, who’d gone upstairs to start digging into Annabelle’s background, a steady stream of customers flowed through the shop.
Annabelle spoke to each one, even if only to say hello and let them know to ask if they needed any help. Most were browsers with no intention to buy. They strolled through the aisles, stopped to run their hands over a chest or pick up a plate but moved on to the next shop empty-handed.
A few were seriously looking for specific pieces. Annabelle helped them take measurements, wrote the figures on the back of one of her business cards, and spent as much time with the customers as they needed. She didn’t push but she asked questions about where they were going to use the piece and how, what the rest of the décor looked like. She took a genuine interest in what they were looking for and those customers, even if they didn’t buy anything, ended their visits by promising to return and to bring friends, all of whom would “love this place.”
The two customers who did buy something left with huge grins on their faces, completely satisfied.
The first sale had been to a previous customer who’d returned to buy the sideboard he’d been looking at for at least two months.
Annabelle remembered the man by name, asked about his family, then got down to business. They bargained for five minutes, and when they agreed on a price that even Jared might not have paid for the piece, they smiled, shook hands, and made arrangements for it to be delivered to his home next week.
The second sale…Well, that one boggled his mind.
The couple was well dressed but not ostentatious. They’d walked around the store not stopping at anything until the woman spied the painting.
Hell, even Jared could see it was love at first sight.
She stopped and stared, went to move on but stopped again. She checked the price, her mouth pursing and eyes narrowing before she’d moved on. But not far before she returned to stand in front of it again. Her husband returned in a few minutes.
They’d held a short, hushed conversation, which consisted mainly of the woman speaking and the man shaking his head.
Annabelle had said hello when they’d first walked in but she’d been answering questions from another couple. Now, Annabelle made her move.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
The woman turned to her with an almost apologetic smile. “Yes, it is. It reminds me of my granddaughter.”
Jared took another look at the portrait and hoped like hell the woman’s granddaughter was cuter than the artwork.
Then again, there was no accounting for taste. He didn’t think much of the painting but he wasn’t into primitive Americana, which was definitely what that painting looked like.
He turned out to be right as Belle told the woman its pedigree—the artist, when it was painted, where it came from.
“I’m not much of a collector,” the woman said with a small laugh. “I just think it’s such a beautiful piece.”
“That’s what you said about the last three you bought,” her husband teased. “Got to admit, that one does look like Christie, though.”
For the next five minutes, Belle talked to the couple about their grandchildren, all five of them. She found out they were both retired schoolteachers who enjoyed antiquing.
Belle never turned on the hard sell. She didn’t have to. She knew the woman wanted the piece but she also knew she couldn’t justify paying the price.
If the woman was working Belle, Jared caught no whiff of it. She seemed apologetic for taking up Belle’s time when she knew she wouldn’t be buying anything.
But Belle knew how much the woman wanted the painting.
“I know what the sticker says, but let’s forget that for a moment,” Belle said. “Tell me how much you’d be willing to pay for the piece.”
The woman’s eyes widened in surprise and she quickly looked at her husband, who put up his hands in surrender. “Sweetheart, I’m not the one who watches Antiques Roadshow religiously.”
“How’s this,” Belle said. “Let me tell you what I paid for it and we’ll see if we can come to an agreement.”
Jared had absolutely no doubt that the number Belle quoted the woman was exactly what she’d paid for it. The markup was high but, as Belle explained, she’d done some restoration work to the piece. Then she told the woman exactly how much that had cost.
Shaking his head ten minutes later, he watched as the woman and her husband walked off with the painting, thanking Belle profusely for allowing them to give her their money.
Hell, she’d made a small profit. Not much, but probably more than if the painting had sat for another couple of weeks. Or months.
He was still shaking his head when she finally locked the front door at eight, a few minutes after the couple left.
She didn’t join him. Instead, she went to the cash register, removed the cash and checks and stashed them in the safe built into the floor beneath the front desk.
Only after she’d set the alarms and made one last trip through the store, straightening things and making sure the windows and doors were locked, did she finally approach him. She looked nervous.
And then he remembered Dane upstairs.
His cock throbbed and his muscles tightened with anticipation.
Images from New Year’s Eve ran through his head: the way she’d responded, how she’d let herself embrace the pleasure. He’d been waiting to see that woman again.
Not that the sex hadn’t been great with just the two of them. It had. But she’d enjoyed that touch of the forbidden, the thrill of the exotic.
He could give her that with Dane’s help. He wanted to give her that.
Wanted to give her whatever she wanted.
“Jared…” she said, seeming to think twice about what she wanted to say next.
He stood, closing his laptop and hopefully covering the lust building every second. “I thought we could send out for food, have dinner in. Any place you would recommend?”
She opened her mouth then closed it. He saw uncertainty in her eyes, confusion, anxiety. But beyond that, he saw desire in the flush of her cheeks and the faster pace of her breathing.
If she told him to send Dane home, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
But, damn it, he wanted her to say yes. Without worry, without fear. He wanted her to want the pleasure as much as he did. And she’d been so damn hot that night at the Salon when Dane had touched her while he fucked her.
Maybe he was asking too much.
She took a deep breath and he could practically see her back straighten. “You have three choices: Chinese, pizza, or sandwiches,” she said. “Take your pick.”
It looked like she’d made hers.
He tried to contain the satisfied grin, tried not to let her see how hot her unstated acquiescence made him.
“Sandwiches sound great.”
She nodded toward the stairs. “I have the menu upstairs. We should order soon. They get busy on a Saturday night.” A slight pause. “I’ll ask Dane what he wants before I order.”