Hot Rocks

make a sale.”
    “You take him. I gotta pee. Pregnant woman, you know.”
    Before Laine could object, Jenny nipped into the back. More amused than irritated, Laine started across the room. “Hi.”
    She had her friendly merchant smile in place when he turned, and his eyes locked on hers.
    She felt the punch dead center of the belly, with the aftershocks of it radiating down to her kneecaps. She could almost feel cohesive thought drain out of her brain, replaced by something along the lines of: Oh. Well. Wow.
    “Hi back.” He kept the glass in his hand and just looked at her.
    He had tiger eyes, she thought dimly. Big, dangerous cat eyes. And the half smile on his face as he stared at her had what could only be lust pooling at the back of her throat. “Um . . .” Fascinated by her own reaction, she let out a half laugh, shook her head. “Sorry, mind was wandering. Do you collect?”
    “Not so far. My mama does.”
    “Oh.” He had a mama. Wasn’t that sweet? “Does she stick to any particular pattern?”
    He grinned now, and Laine cheerfully allowed the top of her head to blow off. “She doesn’t—in any area whatsoever. She likes . . . the variety of the unexpected. Me too.” He set the glass down. “Like this place.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “A little treasure box tucked away in the mountains.”
    “Thank you.”
    And so was she, unexpected, he thought. Bright—the hair, the eyes, the smile. Pretty as a strawberry parfait and a hell of a lot sexier. Not in the full-out, warmly bawdy way the brunette had struck him, but in a secret, I’ll-surprise-you way that made him want to know more.
    “Georgia?” she asked, and his left eyebrow lifted a fraction.
    “Tagged.”
    “I’m good with accents. Does your mother have a birthday coming up?”
    “She stopped having them about ten years ago. We just call it Marlene’s Day.”
    “Smart woman. Those tumblers are the Tea Room pattern, and in fairly short supply. You don’t often see a set of six like this, and in perfect condition. I can give you a nice price on the complete set.”
    He picked one up again but continued to look at her. “I get to haggle?”
    “It’s required.” She stepped closer to lift another glass and show him the price on the bottom. “As you can see, they’re fifty each, but if you want the set, I’ll give them to you for two seventy-five.”
    “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell really good.” It was some smoky fragrance you didn’t notice until it had you by the throat. “Really good. Two and a quarter.”
    She never flirted, never flirted with customers, but found herself turning toward him, standing just a little closer than was strictly business and smiling into those dangerous eyes. “Thanks, I’m glad you like it. Two-sixty, and that’s a steal.”
    “Throw in the shipping to Savannah and have dinner with me and we’ve got a deal.”
    It had been too long, entirely too long, since she’d felt that little thrill swim through the blood. “Shipping—and a drink, with the option for dinner at a later time and place. It’s a good offer.”
    “Yeah, it is. Seven o’clock? They’ve got a nice bar at the Wayfarer.”
    “Yes, they do. Seven’s fine. How would you like to pay for this?”
    He took out a credit card, handed it to her.
    “Max Gannon,” she read. “Just Max? Not Maxwell, Maximillian, Maxfield.” She caught the slight wince and laughed. “Maxfield, as in Parrish.”
    “Just Max,” he said, very firmly.
    “All right then, Just Max, but I have a couple of very good framed Parrish posters in the next room.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    She walked away and behind the counter, then laid a shipping form on it. “Why don’t you write down the shipping information. We’ll have this out this afternoon.”
    “Efficient, too.” He leaned against the counter as he filled in the form. “You’ve got my name. Do I get yours?”
    “It’s Tavish. Laine Tavish.”
    He kept his smile easy as he looked up. “Just Laine? Not Elaine?”
    She didn’t flick an eyelash. “Just Laine.” She rang up the sale and handed him a pretty gold-foiled gift card. “We’ll include this, and gift wrap, if you’d like to write a message to your mother.”
    She glanced over as the bells rang, and the Twins came in.
    “Laine.” Carla made a beeline for the counter. “How are you holding up?”
    “I’m fine. Just fine. I’ll be right with you.”
    “We were worried,