From the Heart

mind?”
    “Well . . .”
    It was easy to justify using the smile. Jessica could already see the desk in the front parlor. “If it’s not too much trouble,” she added.
    The driver shifted to his other foot. “I guess it’ll be all right. Joe won’t mind.” He jerked his thumb at his partner, who had opened the wide double doors of the truck.
    “Thanks. I really appreciate it. That desk is just what I’ve been looking for.”
    Feeling triumphant, Jessica went to the back room for more tea.
     
    As she had burst out hours before, Jessica burst in through the front door of the house. “Betsy!” She slung her purse over thenewel post. “Did it come?” Without waiting for an answer, she dashed toward the front parlor.
    “Since you were six, I’ve been telling you to slow down.” Betsy came through the parlor doors, intercepting her. “At least then you wore sensible shoes.”
    “Betsy.” Jessica gave her a quick, hard squeeze that held as much impatience as affection. “Did it come?”
    “Yes, of course it came.” The housekeeper straightened her apron with a tug. “And it’s sitting in the parlor just like you told me. It’ll be there whether you walk sensibly or run like a fool.” The last of the sentence was wasted, as Jessica was already rushing by her.
    “Oh, it’s lovely!” Gently, she ran a finger over the wood, then quickly began to examine it on all sides. It was a delicate, airy little piece. A woman’s desk. Jessica opened the slant top, then sighed at the unmarred interior. “Really lovely. Wait until David sees it.” She opened one of the inner drawers. It slid out smoothly. “It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. What luck that Michael came across it.” Crouching, she ran a hand down one of its slender legs.
    “It’s pretty,” Betsy admitted, thinking that the carving would be one more thing to keep dust out of. “I bet you could have sold it for a pretty penny too.”
    “The advantage of owning a shop is being able to cop some of the merchandise for yourself.” Rising, Jessica shut the lid again. Now all she needed was a frivolous little inkwell, or perhaps a porcelain box to set on top of it.
    “Supper’s nearly ready.”
    “Oh, supper.” Shaking her head, Jessica brought herself back to the moment. “Mr. Sladerman, I’ve neglected him all day. Is he upstairs?”
    “In the library,” Betsy announced grimly. “All day. Wouldn’t even come out for lunch.”
    “Oh boy.” Jessica combed a hand through her hair. He hadn’t looked like a man who would have much patience with disorganization. “I really wanted to ease him into that. Well, I’m going to go be charming so we don’t lose him. What’s for supper?” she asked over her shoulder.
    “Stuffed pork chops and mashed potatoes.”
    “That should help,” Jessica muttered as she headed for the library door.
    She opened it slowly, enough to stick her head inside. Some things, she decided, you don’t rush into. He was sitting at a long work table, surrounded by pillars and piles of books. A thick pad was in front of him, and the pencil in his hand was worked halfway down. His hair fell over his forehead, but she could see his brows drawn together in concentration. Or annoyance, she mused. She put on her best smile.
    “Hi.”
    He looked up, eyes pinning her. Jessica could feel the little prickles of power all over her skin. She absorbed it, intrigued by the sensation. Without being aware of it, her smile had faded into a look of puzzlement.
    Who is this man? she wondered. It was curiosity as much as courage that had her coming all the way into the room. The lamp on the desk slanted across his face, highlighting his mouth and putting his eyes in shadow. She didn’t feel safe with him this time, but unsettled. She continued toward him.
    “You’ve got a hell of a mess here,” Slade said shortly, tossing his pencil aside. It was better to attack than let himself dwell on how beautiful she was. “If you run your shop like this”—he gestured widely—“it’s a miracle you’re not bankrupt.”
    The specific complaint eased the tension in her shoulders. There’d been nothing personal in that look, she assured herself. She’d been foolish to think there had been. “I know it’s terrible,” Jessica admitted, smiling again. “I hope you’re not going to do the sensible thing and walk out.” Gingerly, she lowered a hip to the table before lifting a book at random. “Do you like