Reining in his stirring of interest, he forced his attention back to the silverware. She might be on her way to another downtown shop—not bringing items to his grandfather’s store for a free evaluation. Lucian didn’t want to be caught ogling, no matter how much her hourglass figure appealed to him. She might think him one of those antique dealer geeks who were starved for a woman’s attention.
He wasn’t starved. Single, yes. But, he’d never had a problem getting a date when he wanted one.
As he fastened a price tag around another piece of silver, though, he couldn’t resist looking at her again. Shifting the box, she tapped on the glass and smiled at Galahad, who promptly rose to all fours and stretched to the tip of his tail.
Show off.
The woman’s smile widened with delight.
How lovely she looked—
As she cooed to Galahad and leaned down even farther, something in the box shifted. Panic swept her features, and her free hand flew to keep items from falling out. Her sunglasses slipped from her nose.
Before Lucian realized he’d sprung into motion, he was halfway to the door.
“You would play chivalrous knight to the rescue,” Galahad groused.
“Of course.” Lucian pulled the wooden door open. A small bell attached to it chimed, a musical sound against the noise of traffic on Whiskers Road.
When he stepped outside, ninety-nine-degree heat washed over him. In the air conditioned store, it was easy to forget just how scorching hot it could be in Florida. A shock-like tingle also raced through him, a sign he’d passed through the magical barrier his grandfather had set up around the premises—added protection in case a Dealer of Darkness decided to infiltrate the shop, or any of the dark magic artifacts tried to cause trouble.
Lucian went to the young woman. She crouched on the sidewalk, her skirt brushing the dirty concrete, the box in front of her. With careful hands, she felt the newspaper-wrapped items, as though checking nothing was broken. In the brilliant sunshine, her hair looked even more golden.
Either she hadn’t heard the door open, or she was too concerned about breakage to acknowledge him right away. Looking down at her, he found himself in the perfect position to see what had been denied to him before. The shadowed valley of her cleavage was framed by the lacy trim of her bra—
No. He was a gentleman. He wouldn’t ogle.
A thudding noise intruded: Galahad, up on his hind legs and pawing on the other side of the glass.
A timely interruption.
“Is everything all right?” As Lucian crouched beside the woman, he caught a hint of her citrusy perfume.
Her shoulders—slopes of fair, satiny skin—tensed. Either she was reluctant to answer his question, or she’d only just become aware of him. Her long lashes flickered then she glanced up at him. Her blue-eyed gaze held his before she looked back down at the box. “Oh, damn it,” she muttered.
Lucian fought a jolt of surprise. Most women, when he talked to them, smiled. Many tried to prolong the conversation by flirting and touching his arm. Not once had a woman answered him by averting her gaze and cussing.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She peered down at the box again. “I lost one of my contact lenses yesterday. It went down the bathroom sink, and I haven’t had a chance to buy more.” Her hand slid to the right. “My sunglasses are prescription. I know they fell in here somewhere—”
“Bottom right corner,” Lucian said, just as her fingertips hit the tortoiseshell plastic frames.
Her shoulders dropped on a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She pushed the sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. Perspiration glistened on her face, and Lucian became aware of the sweat trickling down the back of his neck and under the collar of his polo shirt.
Be a gentleman. Invite her in.
When she picked up the box and rose, he stood as well.
Their gazes met again. As though seeing him for the first time, a pretty blush stained her cheekbones. Her gaze darted over his shirt that fit snugly enough to show off the muscles he’d built through intense workouts—the only way he’d kept his sanity through the turmoil of the past few months.
“Well.” She sounded a little breathless. “Thank you so much for your help.”
Lucian ignored the thud of Galahad’s paws on the window again. “It’s very hot out here.” Good God, couldn’t he have come up with something more inspiring to say?
“Yes, it is.” Her expression turned rueful. “It’s supposed to be a heat index of one-hundred-and-five today. I’m not used to such temperatures or the humidity.”
Was she was a visitor to Florida? To Cat’s Paw Cove? He must find out.
As she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, Lucian managed his most charming smile. He gestured to the shop’s open door. “Why don’t you come in for a moment and cool off?”
Chapter Two
Molly Hendrickson adjusted her sunglasses on her slick nose and discreetly studied the hero who’d rushed to her rescue: a tall, dark-haired man.
An unbelievably gorgeous man.
Her gaze darted down to his expensive-looking yellow polo shirt straining over his broad shoulders then back up to his face. He appeared to be around her own age—late twenties. With his unruly beard and wavy hair that needed trimming, he looked a bit scruffy and untamed. She could easily imagine him in chain-mail armor, wielding a sword and battling villains in the latest epic television series or movie.
Maybe he was a star of the big screen. He could be doing research for a role. Universal Studios wasn’t that far from Cat’s Paw Cove.
That would be just her luck, to meet a hot movie star while sweating like crazy and being extraordinarily clumsy.
Face burning, she snapped her gaze back to the box under her arm and adjusted several items. Stop blushing. You’re looking even more of an idiot than when you almost dropped the antiques on the sidewalk. But, Molly sensed the man’s gaze wandering over her, and somehow that made her cheeks flame even more.
Ugh.
After being very busy but accomplishing very little that morning, she should have known her afternoon would go awry. Despite the urge to turn on her heel and hurry away, she was going to follow through with her visit to Black Cat Antiquities.
A few days ago, she’d spoken on the phone to a man at the shop. While clearing out her late mother’s home to get it ready to sell, she’d found items that might be of value, and had called to see if she could have them appraised. The man had asked her to bring them to the store.
He’d sounded older than the guy beside her, though. Maybe her cell phone had distorted his voice?
He was still gesturing to the open doorway, still smiling…and what a smile. It softened his features, defined by dark eyebrows and strong cheekbones. His brown eyes gleamed with humor and a trace of mischief.
She’d read historical romance novels about heroines swooning over men. She’d wondered if that kind of extreme reaction was even possible…until now.
Say something! He invited you into the store, remember?
“Thanks.” She managed to smile at him in return. “I’d like very much to cool off—”
“Good.”
“—and to meet your adorable cat.”
The man’s gaze flickered. Had she said something wrong?
“He is your cat? Or does he belong to the store?”
“No, he’s mine. He and I have a long history together.” As Molly walked past the man and into the cool interior, he added: “I got him when he was a kitten.”
Her rescuer shut the wooden door; the bell attached to it jingled.
“Your kitty’s a rescue, then?” she asked.
“Of sorts.” Somehow, inside, the guy seemed even taller and broader through the chest. The cat left the window and sauntered toward her, fluffy tail pointed straight up in greeting. “Galahad turned up on my doorstep one rainy day.”
“Galahad,” she echoed. “An
old-fashioned name.”
The man shrugged.
“Wasn’t Galahad one of King Arthur’s knights?”
“Yes.” Admiration glinted in the man’s eyes before he looked at the approaching feline. “I think the name suits him. After all, in many ways, he and I are kind of old-fashioned guys.”
How cute, that he thought of his pet as a guy; as though Galahad was human and not an animal. But, her late mother had loved her four cats as dearly as if they were people, too.
With a twinge of anguish, Molly reminded herself to contact the airline later that afternoon. She needed to find out how much it would cost to fly the cats to Seattle when she returned home; also, what paperwork she’d need from the local vet. She couldn’t bear to surrender her mother’s pets to an animal shelter, so they’d be moving to live with her in her small, two-bedroom apartment.
“Would you like to put down the box?” The man motioned to an oak side table.
“Actually, I’ve brought items to be evaluated. Who do I need to speak to about that?”
“I’ll be glad to take a look at them.”
“Oh. Thanks. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you are?”
His mouth curved in a sheepish grin. “Where are my manners? I’m Lucian Lord. My grandfather, William Lord, owns this shop.”
Grandfather. That explained the gravelly quality of the voice she’d heard on the phone.
“May I ask your name?” Lucian asked.
“Molly. Molly Hendrickson.”
He nodded, as though making a mental note of her name.
“I think I must have spoken to your grandfather when I called last week.”
“He usually takes the calls when he’s in the store.”
Lucian’s answer implied William wasn’t at the premises all of the time.
“Sometimes he goes to clients’ homes to do appraisals,” Lucian added, “especially if there’s an estate to settle or the customer wants evaluations on large pieces of furniture.”
Molly did have some large pieces to sell, and an in-home appraisal would be convenient. However, the thought of Lucian wandering about her late mother’s home sent an icy-hot shiver racing through her.
If she was so unsettled by him, maybe she shouldn’t work with him. “Is your grandfather here today? Since I spoke with him….”
Disappointment tinged Lucian’s gaze. “He’s on vacation. He won’t be back for another eight days.”
“I see. Well—”
“I’m a trained antiques specialist too. I managed a store in Boston before moving here.”
A couple days ago, she’d emailed pictures to several dealers at the big antiques mall in Mt. Dora, and the replies had given her a rough idea of value. If Lucian gave a fair evaluation and wanted to purchase the antiques, she’d be willing to sell them to him. “That would be great. Thank you.” Molly handed him the box. As their hands lightly brushed, awareness skittered through her, a physical acknowledgement of his nearness and masculinity.
She drew a quick breath, for she’d never experienced that zing of sexual attraction before—not even with her ex-fiancé. Why would she feel so strongly about a guy she’d known for less than ten minutes? The sweltering heat must have affected her brain.
As Lucian strode to the counter, his butt looking oh-so-fine in his snug, dark-wash jeans, she curled her hands at her sides. Either she had heat stroke or, as her girlfriends back home had insisted, she had gone too long without a date. She’d resisted joining online dating sites or agreeing to blind dates her friends had wanted to set up for her, because she just, well, hadn’t felt up to it, not once since her non-wedding day last September.
Molly struggled to tamp down welling anguish. Right now wasn’t the time to revisit her heartache.
Standing at the counter, Lucian started removing newspaper-wrapped bundles from the box. Molly had found plenty of newspaper in the house, including stacks of old issues of the Cat’s Paw Cove Courier. Her mother always had been a bit of a hoarder.
Tucking damp hair behind her ear, Molly glanced about the store. Shelves of china, glassware, books, and ornaments ran along the walls. Groupings of furniture and rich-toned rugs encouraged shoppers to linger and browse.
The store had an intriguing smell: a blend of things old, musty, and timeworn. Her mom would have loved it.
The ache within Molly deepened.
“Meow.” Galahad brushed against her bare calves.
Glancing down, she murmured, “Hello, handsome.”
“Push him away if he bothers you,” Lucian said over the crinkle of paper.
“Oh, he’s fine.” She leaned down and stroked the feline’s back. Purring, he brushed against her again, this time wandering between her legs and rubbing his face against her brown, Gladiator-style sandals.
Lucian unwrapped a hobnail glass bowl. “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get these items?”
“They belonged to my mother. She recently died.” Molly swallowed hard. “It was very sudden. The doctors think she had a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. Did she live in Cat’s Paw Cove?”
“Yes, for more than thirty years.” Painful childhood memories blended into Molly’s grief. “My parents divorced when I was seven, and she moved to this town after accepting a job offer.”
“Might I know her?” Lucian asked. “I spent some of my childhood here.”
So had Molly, although most of the time, she’d lived with her dad in Miami. Her parents had thought she’d be better off staying in the house where she’d grown up, and attending school with her friends, rather than starting over in Cat’s Paw Cove. “My mom’s name was Betty.”
He stilled. “Betty Hendrickson?”
“Yes. She taught English—”
“—at Lancaster High School,” Lucian said, “just a few blocks from here.”
Molly couldn’t hide her surprise. “That’s right.”
“I remember her well.”
Lucian had known her mother? Had he been one of her students? Drawn by what he might remember about her parent, Molly took a step forward.
“Mrrrowww!”
Gasping, Molly tottered sideways. The feline shot across the floor, hid under a side table, and glowered at her, his ears flattened to his head. “Galahad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step on your tail.”
Lucian snorted and set out a blue-and-white cup and saucer. “Serves him right.”
That wasn’t a very nice thing to say. Molly frowned. “Stepping on Galahad was entirely my fault.”
Meeting her gaze, Lucian said firmly: “No, it wasn’t.”
“Why would you say that? I should have looked before I took a step.”
Setting aside wadded newspaper, Lucian shook his head. “Galahad has a habit of getting too close, especially to beautiful women.”
The reply forming on Molly’s lips froze there. Lucian thought she was beautiful?
Heat crept into her face again. Don’t be stupid. Don’t read more into his words than is really there. You’re not interested in a relationship, especially not right now.
Focused on the plate in his hand, Lucian turned it to study the pattern, tilted it to view the markings on the bottom then set it beside the other items on the desk. The residual pleasure of his compliment faded on a memory of a hot summer afternoon long ago.
Her mother sat cross-legged on a blanket spread out in the shade of an oak tree, one of several that shaded the front of the home. She poured lemonade from an elegant blue and white teapot into four cups. She handed one to Molly, pushed one in front of the rag doll and the plush beagle, and took the last cup for herself.
Sticking out her pinkie finger, she said in a posh voice, “What a delicious cup of tea. Don’t you think so, my dears?”
“Three teacups and a teapot?” Lucian was saying.
Molly blinked away the sting of tears. “Yes. There used to be four cups. The fourth must have gotten broken.”
He nodded and resu
med the unwrapping. When she glanced back at Galahad, she saw the cat was grooming his tail. Was he trying to lick away his pain? Poor thing. She had trod on him quite hard.
“I really am sorry,” she crooned while crossing to him, her sandals clicking on the wood floor. “Will you forgive me?” Crouching, she stroked him again, marveling at the silkiness of his fur. When he responded by rising and brushing against her knee, as if to say she was forgiven, she scooped him into her arms. Purring, he relaxed against her. “What a nice kitty you are.”
Galahad’s purrs grew louder. She carried him over to Lucian, who appeared to have finished unwrapping all of the antiques. “Your cat is so sweet,” she said.
In her arms, Galahad stared up at her and meowed.
Lucian slanted a glance at the feline and then his gaze returned to her. Molly’s breath froze, for no man had ever looked at her as he did now. His narrowed gaze captured hers—as though he wanted to get hold of every secret she’d ever kept. And that was just for starters.
Unease crawled along her spine. Her heartbeat sped up and echoed with a hollow thud in her ears. She wanted to back away, but her legs refused to work.
Slowly, his gaze slid to her mouth. Her belly tingled, for she saw hunger in his eyes. She easily imagined his mouth crushing down on hers, almost tasted the earthy essence of his lips….
What was she thinking?
A sigh rattled in her throat, and the sensual spell—or whatever it was between them—broke.
Frowning, he looked back down at the desk.
“Do you…see anything that interests you?” she dared to ask.
Did he see anything that interested him?
Hell, yeah.
Lucian clenched his jaw on a silent groan while he fought to control his inappropriate stirrings of desire. He gripped the rounded edges of the desk and pretended to be contemplating the items in front of him. Far better than what he really wanted to do: walk around the counter, pull her into his arms, and kiss her.
Regardless of her perfect, cherry-red lipstick.
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