That Special Smile/Whittenburg Read Online Free Page A

stay,” he said, as if it didn’t matter much to him either way. “I’ll fix more coffee.”
    “No, thank you.”
    Max intentionally stepped close to Sylvie, closer than was necessary for a friendly good-bye. He half expected her to plant the spike of her heel somewhere in the middle of his foot, but instead she lifted her chin and, in one concise movement, adjusted those outlandish glasses against the bridge of her nose.
    He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so intrigued with so little encouragement. Something about Sylvie appealed to his romantic instincts. Or maybe it was his sense of adventure that was leading him. Or could it be, he wondered, as simple as a purely physical attraction?
    “If you don’t mind?”
    Her words were pointed, and although Sylvie kept them dangerously soft, she didn’t let him see any sign of discomfiture—if there was any to see. But he sensed that she wasn’t as unaffected by his nearness as she’d like him to believe, or as she’d like to believe herself. But that, he reasoned with a wry smile, was what made her interesting.
    “Not at all.” He led the way to the front door and made a point of keeping his distance as she opened the door and stepped outside. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait here, Sylvie Anne?”
    “Absolutely sure.” She turned, hesitated as if weighing preference against etiquette, and then extended her hand for his handshake. “It’s been very nice to meet you, Max. The coffee was ... memorable.” Her gaze swept over him and her accompanying smile was genuinely amused. “Juliette, obviously, has no taste.”
    He took her hand and cradled it in his palm. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate the finer things in life, Sylvie. Come share my caffeine anytime.”
    “That’s very generous, Max. Maybe sometime before I leave, I’ll be able to have coffee with you again.” Her smile faded a bit as she flexed her hand and realized he wasn’t ready to let go.
    “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, Sylvie Anne.”
    Not if she could do anything to prevent it, Sylvie decided. She had already seen all she wanted to see of Max McConnell. “Well, thanks again.”
    His fingers closed over hers and his thumb sketched a lazy circle on the back of her hand. “It was my pleasure.”
    For one brief second she enjoyed the caress and the fragile thread of an awakening perception that coursed through her. Then she took charge of the handshake and her hand was her own again. The blast of a car horn at that moment was the sweetest sound she’d heard in days.
    “Juliette’s home,” she announced unnecessarily as she stepped back and away from him. “We couldn’t have timed that better, could we?”
    Max was sure he could have timed it better with his wristwatch tied behind his back. But as he watched Sylvie walk toward the tiny foreign car that Juliette drove, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time considering the consequences of the morning.
    He should, but he probably wouldn’t.
    Sylvie wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met — she wasn’t even like anyone he’d ever read about. But he had a feeling about her. 
    Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Max watched the sisters exchange greetings and welcoming hugs. There was a certain amount of family resemblance between the two, he supposed, although it wasn’t striking. Where Juliette’s hair was summer blond, Sylvie’s was autumn gold. Sylvie was taller than her sister, but not by much. And where Juliette was undeniably curvy, Sylvie was, well, more subdued, Max finally decided. There were other differences, of course, but he already knew that appearance was the least of them.
    He could see grocery sacks through the passenger window of the sports car. How typical of Julie to plan for her sister’s visit weeks in advance and then wait until the morning of her arrival to buy groceries.
    Max shook his head. Apparently, Sylvie was laboring under the mistaken