inside Vance fisted so tightly, he could hardly breathe. When she smiled, she was beautiful. When she laughed, she was incomparable. Her whole face lit up, her eyes shone and the laugh itself was not one of those quiet, restrained society titters; this was full-throated laughter that had him grinning in response.
“I’m so sorry, Vance. This is just killing you, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad after all. “Doesn’t bother me a bit.”
“Other than making you wear the expression of a man who would like to chew off his own foot to escape.”
He frowned. “That’s not what I’m feeling.”
“Then you should smile to reassure me.”
He did and she said, “You really should do that more often. You’re far less intimidating when you smile.”
“Maybe I like being intimidating.”
“Well, you are really good at it,” she said, then leaned over and kissed her son’s forehead. The little boy grinned and kicked his feet before grabbing a tiny fistful of shredded chicken.
Vance glanced around the diner—he refused to think of the place as a restaurant. The servers were dressed in animal-print uniforms, as zebras, lions, tigers. There were other employees over by the play area dressed in wild animal costumes and they were being besieged by an army of toddlers. Vance couldn’t even fathom a worse job.
But he was here with Charlie and she was happy and relaxed, so he decided to make the best of the situation. While she had her guard down, he would gather as much information as he could. And by the end of the night, he would know if she was an enemy—or a potential lover.
Six
Vance leaned in toward her so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice above a roar. “So what did you think of the auction?”
Her gaze snapped to his and excitement shone in her blue eyes. “It was wonderful. It is every time, but today, seeing the royal jewels? Knowing that I was touching something worn by a queen more than a hundred years ago? Wonderful, if terrifying.”
“Terrifying?”
“Did you hear what that necklace sold for?” She shook her head and laughed. “I was terrified I’d drop it or accidentally twist the gold wire or gouge out a stone or something….”
His mouth quirked. “A busy imagination.”
“Oh, incredibly busy. I’ll probably drive Jake crazy as he grows up. If he gets a cold, in my head it escalates in seconds to pneumonia, then an oxygen tent and my donating a lung or something.” She paused, took a breath and said wryly, “Now that you know I’m nuts, feel free to run.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re not, are you?” She tipped her head to one side to look at him and a cascade of blond hair swung down by her shoulder like a slice of sunlight. “I wonder why.”
He wondered that, too. She wasn’t the kind of woman who usually drew him in and, yet, she fascinated him enough that he was willing to put up with complete bedlam just to sit across the table from her.
“Anyway,” she said, returning to his earlier question, “I love the auctions. Being part of the excitement, even in a small way.”
Vance nodded. “I understand that completely. My father took me to my first auction when I was ten. It was sports memorabilia. Baseball cards, Babe Ruth’s glove, Ted Williams’s favorite bat, that kind of thing.” She was smiling at him, silently encouraging him to go on.
So he did. “Even at ten, I felt that rush you were talking about. Seeing those things from the past getting a new shot at being appreciated …”
“Exactly.” Absentmindedly, she reached out and patted his hand in solidarity. “Like the jewelry today. Justin says the collection was most likely kept locked away in Cadria, in a vault or a crown jewels room—who knows? But today, the pieces were in the light again. Being admired. People were buying them so they could be worn again. Dazzle again.” She sighed.
“Liked the jewelry, did you?”
“What woman wouldn’t? Especially that necklace. But it wasn’t just the stones themselves, it was the romance of it. A wedding present from a king to his queen. The legend of happily-ever-after attached to it. The diamonds and rubies themselves were just part of the whole.” She shook her head, still awestruck. “Amazing.”
Behind Vance, the crazed three-year-old was shouting about cake and his parents were quietly telling him to use his inside voice. Vance wasn’t sure the kid had an inside voice and if he did, whether it would be heard in the cacophony of sound.
Keeping his voice as low as he could and still be heard, he leaned toward Charlie and caught her gaze with his.
“How’d you get interested in auctions? I mean, I was born into it. What’s your reason?”
The waitress showed up with two coffees and a small dish of fresh fruit. As Charlie cut the pieces of cantaloupe, watermelon and grapes into even tinier pieces for her son, she started talking.
“In college I went to a few auctions with friends.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Nothing like the ones we hold at Waverly’s, of course. These were more country auctions, selling crates of mystery goods or farm equipment, some furniture and antiques. But the feeling was the same, if you know what I mean. The sense of anticipation—people hoping to find something special. Maybe buying a painting for a dollar and discovering an old master under an ugly dog playing poker—”
He laughed.
Charlie shrugged and said, “It was everything. The auctioneer, the crowds, the bidding. I loved all of it. So when my grandmother died—”
“Your grandmother?”
She stopped and he read hesitation in her eyes as she bit at her bottom lip. He knew she hadn’t meant to say that and his curiosity was piqued.
“My grandmother raised me,” she said briefly then hurried on. “Anyway, when she died, I packed up and moved to New York. Two years ago, I got a job at Waverly’s. I started out in HR, but worked my way up, and now I work for the boss.”
He laughed. “One of the bosses, anyway.”
“Why did you take us to dinner?” Charlie asked suddenly. She smoothed wisps of light brown hair off her son’s forehead and said, “I can’t imagine you’ve been dying to have dinner with a bunch of screaming kids.” Her eyes widened as she looked past him. “Oops.”
Vance felt someone watching him and slowly turned his head to meet the three-year-old screamer’s big, dark eyes. The boy was hanging over the back of the bench seat, watching him intently. Vance stared right back at him. When the boy stuck out his tongue, Charlie laughed and Vance winced.
“Trevor!” the boy’s mother snapped, and dragged him back down to his seat. “Sorry,” she murmured.
Shaking his head, Vance turned back to Charlie. “Clearly the evil Boss Stare doesn’t
