Wedding Series Boxed Set (3 Books in 1) (The Wedding Series) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Patricia McLinn
As she started to answer, part of him experienced inordinate pleasure at the idea that she was willing to humor him.
"You are an independent appraiser, with a good bit of business coming from referrals from Centurian Insurance Group as well as several other major firms, although you do a variety of noninsurance-related appraisals. And Jan mentioned you've worked with some large museums."
He nodded, hoping he'd masked an automatic frown. At least Jan hadn't mentioned the Smithsonian offer specifically. Prestige was one thing, but you had to consider the cost, too.
"That's true as far as it goes, but do you know what I appraise?"
He saw her quick intelligence grasp the ramifications of that question. He could practically hear her thinking that insurance companies rarely hired independent appraisers for the bulk of their business - the cars, boats, houses and routine household goods they could assess through statistics galore.
"A specialty. Something out of the ordinary."
"That's right." He waited.
"What is it? What's your specialty?"
He liked Bette Wharton a lot at that moment. She didn't want to have to ask. He figured she felt not knowing the answer represented a slipup in her preparation. But she didn't allow any of that in her tone.
He wanted to kiss her.
To lean forward across the small table and let his lips explore that up-swung lip of hers, to slip his tongue along it and then inside it.
The blood quickening through his body was a warning. Better get his mind - and hormones - off that track, or he'd be doing just what his imagination had conjured up.
Because Bette was the kind of woman to take it all seriously.
Yes, better to stick to business. Even if she wasn't likely to take his business too seriously.
"I mostly appraise cards, trains and books."
"Cards, trains and books?" she repeated blankly.
"Baseball cards, toy trains and comic books."
Bette stared at him. "You're kidding."
"Most of the time, yes. But not about this. I also operate as a sort of clearinghouse for specialists in other areas from all over the country, and I specialize in appraising other stuff myself, too. Like original Monopoly games, nineteenth-century mechanical toys, vintage Erector sets. But I'd say those three - baseball cards, toy trains and comic books - are the most common in my trade."
"Then your occupation really is child's play."
He'd heard it before. He'd heard notes of censure a lot stronger than the faint echo in Bette's words. But they had never bothered him before.
He smiled.
"That's me, a kid at heart."
Chapter Two
----
BETTE TRIED TO ignore the strange frisson of relief and disappointment.
A kid at heart.
She believed he'd spoken no more than the absolute truth, and that relieved her. Because that meant the undercurrent of attraction would soon wither.
Dependability, solidity, maturity - those were the attributes she valued. Someone who would work through the difficulties in life as she did, someone who anticipated them and prepared for them. Certainly not someone who admitted to being - bragged about being - a kid at heart.
So why are you disappointed
? asked a voice inside her.
To quiet it, she asked, "How did you get to know Mama Artemis and Ardith?"
"I did a job for them." Paul gestured widely to the room around them. "Appraising."
For the first time Bette noticed one wall was decorated with wooden game boards, the colors mellowed and softened by age. On a shelf along the opposite wall resided arrangements of old-fashioned toys, a teddy bear appearing to pull a wagon bearing two dolls, a wooden sled next to ancient-looking skates, a hoop, and stick.
"The toys? You appraised these toys?"
"These and a whole lot more. This is the tip of the collection."
"Did they bring all these things with them when they came to America?" She wondered again about the origins of Mama Artemis and her family. Not Poland; she'd heard no trace of her grandfather's speech in Ardith's voice.
"No way. Mama Artemis
"You are an independent appraiser, with a good bit of business coming from referrals from Centurian Insurance Group as well as several other major firms, although you do a variety of noninsurance-related appraisals. And Jan mentioned you've worked with some large museums."
He nodded, hoping he'd masked an automatic frown. At least Jan hadn't mentioned the Smithsonian offer specifically. Prestige was one thing, but you had to consider the cost, too.
"That's true as far as it goes, but do you know what I appraise?"
He saw her quick intelligence grasp the ramifications of that question. He could practically hear her thinking that insurance companies rarely hired independent appraisers for the bulk of their business - the cars, boats, houses and routine household goods they could assess through statistics galore.
"A specialty. Something out of the ordinary."
"That's right." He waited.
"What is it? What's your specialty?"
He liked Bette Wharton a lot at that moment. She didn't want to have to ask. He figured she felt not knowing the answer represented a slipup in her preparation. But she didn't allow any of that in her tone.
He wanted to kiss her.
To lean forward across the small table and let his lips explore that up-swung lip of hers, to slip his tongue along it and then inside it.
The blood quickening through his body was a warning. Better get his mind - and hormones - off that track, or he'd be doing just what his imagination had conjured up.
Because Bette was the kind of woman to take it all seriously.
Yes, better to stick to business. Even if she wasn't likely to take his business too seriously.
"I mostly appraise cards, trains and books."
"Cards, trains and books?" she repeated blankly.
"Baseball cards, toy trains and comic books."
Bette stared at him. "You're kidding."
"Most of the time, yes. But not about this. I also operate as a sort of clearinghouse for specialists in other areas from all over the country, and I specialize in appraising other stuff myself, too. Like original Monopoly games, nineteenth-century mechanical toys, vintage Erector sets. But I'd say those three - baseball cards, toy trains and comic books - are the most common in my trade."
"Then your occupation really is child's play."
He'd heard it before. He'd heard notes of censure a lot stronger than the faint echo in Bette's words. But they had never bothered him before.
He smiled.
"That's me, a kid at heart."
Chapter Two
----
BETTE TRIED TO ignore the strange frisson of relief and disappointment.
A kid at heart.
She believed he'd spoken no more than the absolute truth, and that relieved her. Because that meant the undercurrent of attraction would soon wither.
Dependability, solidity, maturity - those were the attributes she valued. Someone who would work through the difficulties in life as she did, someone who anticipated them and prepared for them. Certainly not someone who admitted to being - bragged about being - a kid at heart.
So why are you disappointed
? asked a voice inside her.
To quiet it, she asked, "How did you get to know Mama Artemis and Ardith?"
"I did a job for them." Paul gestured widely to the room around them. "Appraising."
For the first time Bette noticed one wall was decorated with wooden game boards, the colors mellowed and softened by age. On a shelf along the opposite wall resided arrangements of old-fashioned toys, a teddy bear appearing to pull a wagon bearing two dolls, a wooden sled next to ancient-looking skates, a hoop, and stick.
"The toys? You appraised these toys?"
"These and a whole lot more. This is the tip of the collection."
"Did they bring all these things with them when they came to America?" She wondered again about the origins of Mama Artemis and her family. Not Poland; she'd heard no trace of her grandfather's speech in Ardith's voice.
"No way. Mama Artemis
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