From the Heart

involvement he couldn’t afford. “Did you want me to move something else?” His voice was cool as he stepped away from her.
    Shaken, Jessica backed toward the chest. She needed distance. “Mrs. MacKenzie wants to take the chifforobe with her. She’s gone out to pull her car to the front. Would you mind putting it in the back of her station wagon?”
    “All right.”
    She indicated the piece with a silent gesture, not moving until he was out the front door with it. Alone, Jessica allowed herself a long, uneasy breath. That was not a man a womanshould lose control with, she warned herself. He wouldn’t be gentle, or particularly kind. She placed the flat of her palm on her chest as if to relieve the pressure that lingered there. Don’t overreact the next time, she advised herself.
    It’s the way he looks at me, Jessica decided, as if he could see what I’m thinking. She ran an unsteady hand through her hair. I don’t even know what I’m thinking when he looks at me, so how could he? And yet . . . and yet her pulse was still racing.
    When the door jingled open again, she hadn’t budged from her spot in front of the chest of drawers.
    “I’m starved,” she improvised swiftly, then started to move. As Slade watched she hurried from window to window, lowering shades. She hung a sign on the door and then locked it. “You must be too,” she said when he remained silent. “It’s after one, and I’ve had you dragging furniture around all morning. How about a sandwich and some tea?”
    Slade managed to smile and sneer at the same time. “Tea?”
    Her laughter eased her own tension. “No, I suppose not. Well, David keeps some beer.” She hustled to the back of the shop and pulled open the door of a small refrigerator. She crouched, then rummaged. “Here. I knew I’d seen some.” Straightening, Jessica turned and collided with his chest. He took her arms briefly in reflex, then as quickly dropped them. Heart hammering, she stepped away. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were behind me. Will this do?” Safely at arm’s length, she offered the bottle.
    “Fine.” His expression was bland as he took it and sat at the table. The tension had settled at the base of his neck. He’d have to be careful not to touch her again. Or to give in to the urge to taste that subtly passionate mouth of hers. Once he did, he’d never stop there. Desire tightened, a hard ball in the pit of his stomach. Almost violently, Slade twisted the cap from the beer.
    “I’ll fix some sandwiches.” Jessica became very busy in the refrigerator. “Roast beef all right?”
    “Yeah, that’s fine.”
    What goes on in his mind? she wondered as she kept her hands busy. It’s just not possible to tell what he’s thinking. She sliced neatly through bread and meat, prudently keepingher back to him. Looking down at her own hands, she thought of Slade’s. He had such long, lean fingers. Strong. She’d liked the look of them. Now, she caught herself wondering how they would feel on her body. Competent, experienced, demanding. The flare of desire was quick, but not unexpected this time. Fighting it, she sliced the second sandwich a bit savagely.
    He watched the sunlight stream through the window onto her hair. It fell softly on the varied hues of blue in her sweater. He liked the way the material clung to her, enhancing the straight, slender back and narrow waist. But he noted too the tension in her shoulders. He wasn’t going to get very far if they were both preoccupied with an attraction neither wanted. He had to make her relax and talk. Slade knew one certain way of accomplishing that.
    “You’ve got quite a place here, Jessica.”
    He wasn’t aware that it was the first time he’d said her name, but she was. That pleased her as much as the careful compliment.
    “Thank you.” Belatedly she remembered to turn the burner on under the kettle as she brought his sandwich to the table. “People have finally stopped calling it Jessica’s Little Hobby.”
    “Is that what it started out to be?”
    “Not to me.” She stretched on tiptoe to reach a cup. Slade watched the hem of her skirt sneak up. “But to a lot of people it was just Justice Winslow’s daughter having a fling at business. Did you want a glass for that?”
    “No.” Slade brought the bottle to his lips and drank. “Why antiques?”
    “It was something I knew . . . something I loved. It’s sensible to make a career out of something you know and appreciate,