Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “At one point, they were real,” Loral told him. “She sold the originals during the Depression, but not before having replicas made.”

  He imagined the bracelet with real rubies, real gold. Genuine stones would add extra clarity to rival the brooch. He glanced at the dragonfly but couldn’t imagine it any more breathtaking than it was now.

  Something about that piece drew him…he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he picked it up again.

  “Have you ever researched these? Had them appraised?”

  “What’s the point, I know for a fact they’re fakes.” She set the bracelet down and flattened her palms on the glass. After a discreet, deep breath he guessed she didn’t want him to notice, she asked, “What’s the best you can do?”

  He let his gaze drift from one to the other, adding things up in his mind while cringing at the thought of Robert’s reaction.

  “I’ll give you one-fifty for the earrings, two for the bracelet, one for the pendant, and another one-fifty for the ring.”

  Disappointment darkened her gaze, and her shoulders drooped. Resignation settled in her expression. “That’s more than fair.”

  He kicked himself for not going higher. Screw her suspicions and obvious pride, and to hell with his bank statement.

  “And the dragonfly?”

  He angled the brooch in the light, admiring the platinum setting that made the faux jewels sparkle so brilliantly. Even though she’d assured him otherwise, he’d swear these stones were real. Obviously she needed the money, but something in his gut made him shake his head to refuse the dragonfly.

  She swallowed hard. “I know it’s not signed, but it must be worth something. Fifty bucks at least?” Her voice lilted at the end, making the statement sound like a plea.

  “I have a feeling it might be worth more than that,” he said. “Let me look into it before you decide to sell. I could have it appraised and—”

  “Just give me a price,” she stated, desperation edging her voice as he set the brooch down.

  “Loral—”

  She locked her gaze with his. “Please, Jake.”

  The entreaty came out as barely a whisper. Compassion squeezed his chest tight. He leaned forward and covered her hands with his. Cold fingers shocked his heated skin. Her dark lashes widened, her lips parted as her breath caught. His heart pounded with the desire to gather her close, warm her, and protect her. Anything to wipe away the stark desolation he glimpsed in those expressive aqua eyes.

  “How much do you need?” he asked. “I’ll loan you the money.”

  Mortification flooded her face and she jerked her hands away.

  Jake grimaced as her eyes brightened with moisture. He hadn’t meant to say that. At least, not like she was a charity case. He felt like a first-class jerk. He’d recognized her pride early on, so why had he just torn it to shreds?

  She blinked fast, swallowed hard again. And then, as if drawing on a steel reserve deep inside, she gathered her tattered dignity around her and bit out, “I can’t pay the rent on what you feel, Jake, so just give me a price.”

  Fine. His brother was going to flip, but what did he care anymore?

  “One thousand.”

  Loral’s jaw dropped in surprise, then snapped closed. Her expression turned colder than her hands. “That’s even more insulting.”

  “It might be worth more,” he reasoned.

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  Suddenly angry, as much at himself as her defensiveness, he narrowed his gaze and leaned forward. “Take it or leave it.”

  She wanted to leave it. He read it in the rigid set of her small corduroy-clad shoulders, the tense line of her jaw, and the ice in her eyes. And, until he saw a flicker of that earlier despair in their blue-green depths, he actually thought she might turn and walk out the door.

  “Can you pay in cash?”

  Chapter Two

  Loral hunched her shoulders and jogged toward the bus stop. Despite the December chill biting through her coat, humiliation still burned her cheeks. It was bad enough that she knew he knew she was desperate enough to sell their family heirlooms piece by agonizing piece, but to have him offer her money outright? Mortified didn’t begin to cover it.

  The first time she’d met Jake, her heart hadn’t stopped racing until after she’d left the antique shop and driven half-way home. She’d been captivated by his dark good-looks the moment she first walked through the doors, and then he’d smiled that sincere, casual smile that reached all the way to his amber eyes. It was his smile that kept her coming back, even though it became harder and harder to face him with her head held high.

  The worst part was she always wondered if he paid more for the items she brought than they were worth. Though he never paid more than the list prices she looked up at the library, it was certainly more than he should in order to make a profit. But, unable to resist the lure of seeing him again and again, of deepening what she hoped was a budding friendship, she’d pushed aside her suspicion instead of finding another dealer.

  Now she knew. She didn’t have to touch the sixteen one hundred dollar bills stuffed deep in her jeans pocket to know they were there. One thousand dollars for the dragonfly. She snorted with annoyance.

  Sure, it was beautiful, but she’d have seen through that ridiculous offer even if he hadn’t tried to give her a handout moments earlier. Pain had sliced through her, because while she’d melted inside from the heat of his electric touch on her hands, seconds later he’d revealed he only felt sorry for her.

  Well, at least it was over. She’d sold him the last of what she and her mother owned that would bring in the amount of cash they needed. She had no clue what they’d do next month, but now she had no reason to see Jake Coburn again.

  A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it down and increased her stride as fat, wet snowflakes began to sink from the city-lit sky above her. Turning the corner, she saw the blue bus at the end of the block, accelerating away from her stop.

  “No!”

  She ran faster on the slick sidewalk, but it was no use. The taillights grew smaller and smaller until they became a blur, blending with other vehicles and the Christmas lights twinkling along the street.

  Loral came to a defeated halt, lungs burning, her breath pluming out to mingle with the snow as she braced her hands on her knees. Another bus wouldn’t come for forty-five minutes, and given the fact that she needed every damn dollar in her pocket, a cab wasn’t even a consideration; she’d have to wait.

  Headlights flashed behind her. After a quick glance over her shoulder at a black sedan driving toward her, she straightened and shoved her hands deep into her pockets.

  She’d wait for the next bus, just not out here on the freezing street. In the dark. Alone. Walking briskly down the block, she waited for the car to pass. Anxiety rippled along her spine with the realization that it’d slowed to keep pace with her. Her numb fingers curled around the can of pepper spray at the bottom of her pocket.

  “Loral? What are you doing?”

  Jake’s disapproving voice jerked her attention to the car. Her heart pounded loud in her ears. Not wanting him to see she was cold, she hugged her arms across her middle to stop her shivering as she peered through his passenger side window. He watched her from his leather seats with the street light above casting light onto his head through the sun roof. Great—nothing like adding insult to injury.

  She resumed walking. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  The engine of his car revved as he caught up with her again. “Did your Tahoe break down? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

  Okay, just shoot me now. She glanced in the direction the bus had disappeared, and lifted her chin while keeping her voice indifferent. “I sold the Tahoe two months ago.”

  “You’re not walking home, are you?” The tone of his voice conveyed his disbelief. “It’s below freezing.”

  A snowflake caught on her eyelashes, she blinked it away. “I missed
my bus and the next one isn’t until eight. I can hardly just sit here and wait.”

  “Can’t you call someone?”

  She didn’t answer, unwilling to explain that she not only didn’t have a cell phone, but no one to call for help. Like she needed more of his pity tonight.

  “No family?” He paused. “A boyfriend?”

  She shook her head sharply, still walking as his car inched alongside at an idle.

  “Let me give you a ride, then.”

  Two years ago she would’ve gladly accepted, following her desire to spend some time with him. Now she forced a smile to her stiff lips and willed her teeth not to chatter. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll just wait for the next bus. There’s a coffee shop a few blocks from here.”

  A horn blasted behind them. Loral flinched, glanced at the irritated driver behind them, and waved Jake onward. “Go. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

  With a rev of the engine, his sleek black car surged forward. She fought disappointment until he swerved sharply into an empty parking spot halfway down the block. Her step slowed as the impatient driver zoomed past. Jake swung from his car and strode toward her with those long legs of his that made him tower over her five feet five inches.

  “That coffee shop closes at six,” he told her. “Not enough evening traffic.”

  Just her luck. The unfairness in her life threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to let the useless emotion drown her in the undertow. Things wouldn’t change until her mother was better, and until then, she’d just deal with missed buses and closed coffee shops.

  She lifted her head to meet Jake’s gaze, noticing how quickly the snow gathered on his dark hair. Her own hair must be covered. She reached up a hand to brush it off, then wished she hadn’t as the moisture made her fingers even colder and frigid air rushed under the bottom edge of her coat. A shiver shook her shoulders.

  Jake muttered under his breath while shrugging out of his black leather jacket. Before she realized his intent, he stepped forward and draped it around her. Immediate warmth permeated her somewhat threadbare coat, lethally combined with the scent of leather and man. Her senses sharpened even as the rest of the world faded away, leaving her unable to do anything more than stare up at him.

  He stood close enough to make her knees weak, a hand on either lapel, tugging the jacket tight so she was wrapped in a comforting cocoon of warmth. His eyes reminded her of the melted caramel her grandmother used to drizzle over ice cream.

  “Let me take you home, Loral.”

  Jake’s low voice sent a delicious frisson of awareness along her spine. She wanted to say yes, but ended up mutely shaking her head to combat his magnetic pull.

  He made an impatient sound and gripped her arms. “Don’t be stupid. Besides the fact that you’re freezing your butt off, it’s not safe for you out here—and certainly not with the amount of cash you’re carrying.”

  Being called stupid on top of everything else was enough to jolt her back to reality. She stepped back, jerking free when his hands tightened in protest. Dragging his coat off her shoulders, she thrust it at him. “And how do I know I can trust you?”

  It was a low blow. She had instinctively trusted him from the beginning, but at this point, she’d say anything to keep him from finding out where she lived.

  Jake took the jacket. However, instead of putting it back on over the black turtleneck sweater that clung to his wide shoulders and trim waist, he fished in the pocket, jaw clenched tight. Next thing she knew, he’d pressed a cell phone into her hand.

  “There’s got to be someone you can call—a friend, or a neighbor. Give them my name and license plate and tell them I’m bringing you home. If you don’t contact them again in however long it takes to get to your house, they can call the cops.”

  His tone conveyed serious determination. She handed the cell back to him, her anger over his stupid comment gone as fast as it’d flared.

  He glared at her without taking the phone. “Call.”

  Not a request, but a quietly voiced, furious order. Through the snowflakes drifting between them, their eyes met and held. She drew in a deep breath of frigid air.

  “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

  A curt nod was the only acknowledgment of her apology. Gone was the easygoing man from the shop who’d always been so nice. Determination, like the Christmas lights in the shop window on her right, glittered in his gaze. This man wasn’t taking no for an answer, but instead of frightening her, his determination warmed her more than his jacket had.

  She activated the screen and dialed home, where her call was answered on the third ring. “It’s me, did I wake you?”

  “It’s okay, honey, I was just dozing during Miracle on 34th Street,” her mother replied.

  “Sorry, but I missed the bus and wanted to let you know a friend of mine is giving me a ride. I’ll be home in about an hour.”

  “Thank you for letting me know and be careful. We’ve already got a couple inches here.”

  “Yeah, it’s snowing here, too. See you soon, love you.”

  She disconnected and handed the phone to Jake again with a quiet “thanks.” Their fingers brushed as he took it, sending a spark of awareness up her arm. She was going to spend almost the next hour in the dim interior of his vehicle as he drove her home. If only this were a date instead of his self-assigned rescue mission, she’d feel so much more at ease. Well, that, and if he weren’t driving her home.

  He held the car door open for her without a word. After a slight hesitation, she slid into the plush, black leather passenger seat. It was soft as a rose petal beneath her cold fingers. Her heart leapt as he closed her door with a firm push, then she watched him walk around to the driver’s side. He hadn’t put his jacket back on and took a moment to brush snow off his shoulders and hair before tossing it in the back and sliding in behind the wheel.

  The swipe of his hand had left his previously combed hair rumpled and sexy. Moisture gleamed in the dark strands until he closed his door and darkness enveloped them. Loral caught the flash of his smile and gave a brief one of her own, then focused straight ahead.

  With a flick of his wrist, the engine purred to life and the dash lit up. From the corner of her eye, she watched him reach to adjust the radio until Christmas music flowed quietly from the back speakers, then he pressed another button and sat back.

  The soft glow of reddish light from the dash heightened her awareness of his strong profile beside her as the scent of the leather interior teased her nostrils. Most disturbing to her composure, however, was his raw male scent. Spicy, sensual and oddly mysterious, it invaded her senses, making her want to close her eyes and inhale deep.

  Warmth spread through her. Her eyelids drifted low, her chest expanded—and she suddenly realized the seat beneath her was far warmer than her butt could’ve made it in the few short moments she’d been sitting there.

  “So, am I expected to read your mind, or would you like to tell me where we’re going?” he asked in a light tone.

  Thankful for the dim light that hopefully hid her flushed face, she straightened in the heavenly heated seat. After a silent sigh of resignation, she told him the older suburb where she and her mother lived in a low-rent apartment.

  “My brother lives near there, in River View Heights,” Jake said as he checked the mirrors, shifted into drive and eased onto the wet streets that were beginning to accumulate the rapidly falling snow.

  Definitely the other side of the ‘tracks’. Loral gave a noncommittal hmm and settled deeper into her cozy seat. Despite her best efforts to keep her gaze trained front and center, her attention kept shifting left. The second time she slid her gaze sideways to sneak a peek at his handsome profile, he almost caught her and she quickly looked away.

  Say something. Anything. Nothing came to mind that didn’t sound stupid in her head. And then she found a distraction.

  Jake’s hands held the steering wheel precisely at ten and two. Dark hair scattered a
cross the backs of those hands, emphasizing their size and the strength she’d felt when he’d taken hold of her arms earlier. And yet when he examined her great-grandmother’s jewelry, his movements had been light, confident. He handled the car in the same reassuring manner.

  More than once over the past year she’d watched him hold an antique object with gentle care and wondered how it would feel to be handled by Jake.

  Staring at his fingers, imagining his touch on her skin, suddenly the warmth spreading through her veins had nothing to do with the heated seat. It’d been so long since she’d been with anyone, yet her imagination brought the possibility to life. His palm cupping her cheek. Thumb brushing the pulse at the base of her neck. Strong hands pulling her flush against him before skimming down her back as his mouth lowered to hers...

  Chapter Three

  From the corner of his eye, Jake saw Loral staring at his hands—or was it the speedometer? The only sound was the Christmas music and the rhythmic swipe of the wiper blades doing their best to keep up with the snow storm. While stewing over her phone call for the past fifteen minutes, and the “love you” at the end, Jake hadn’t accelerated over forty miles per hour on the slick roads. Now he wondered if she was frightened and eased up a bit on the gas pedal.

  Not that he’d ask her to admit to fear. The way things were going, he was sure she’d bristle faster than a cornered porcupine. He settled for the cliché approach with a tilt of his head and an encouraging smile.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Her attention jerked up before her gaze bounced away from his, and she stared out the window. Had she just blushed, or was it the light from the dash reflecting on her pale face?

  “They’re not even worth that much,” she mumbled.

  Besides his precarious financial situation, he also hadn’t asked her out before now because he didn’t want to complicate their business relationship and risk her not coming back to his shop. With that response, though, he wasn’t sure if he’d taken a step in the right direction, or two leaps backward.