He recognized the movement instantly, and his skilled ear approved the quality of tone. A moody, even passionate piece, he thought, finding it strange to come across such exquisite workmanship in a toy store. Then he glanced up and saw Natasha.
He stared. He couldn’t help it. She was standing a few feet away, her head up, slightly tilted as she watched him. Her hair was as dark as the dancer’s and corkscrewed around her face in a wild disarray that flowed beyond her shoulders. Her skin was a dark, rich gold that was set off by the simple red dress she wore.
But this woman was not fragile, he thought. Though she was small, he got the impression of power. Perhaps it was her face, with its full, unpainted mouth and high, slashing cheekbones. Her eyes were almost as dark as her hair, heavy-lidded and thickly lashed. Even from a distance of ten feet he sensed it. Strong, undiluted sex. It surrounded her as other women surrounded themselves with perfumes.
For the first time in years he felt the muscle-numbing heat of pure desire.
Natasha saw it, then recognized and resented it. What kind of man, she wondered, walked into a room with his wife and daughter, then looked at another woman with naked hunger in his eyes?
Not her kind.
Determined to ignore the look as she had ignored it from others in the past, she crossed to him. “Do you need some help?”
Help? Spence thought blankly. He needed oxygen. He hadn’t known it was literally possible for a woman to take a man’s breath away. “Who are you?”
“Natasha Stanislaski.” She offered her coolest smile. “I own the store.”
Her voice seemed to hang in the air, husky, vital, with a trace of her Slavic origins adding eroticism as truly as the music still playing behind him. She smelled of soap, nothing more, yet the fragrance completely seduced him.
When he didn’t speak, she lifted a brow. It might have been amusing to knock a man off his feet, but she was busy at the moment, and the man was married. “Your daughter has her selection down to three dolls. Perhaps you’d like to help her with her final choice.”
“In a minute. Your accent—is it Russian?”
“Yes.” She wondered if she should tell him his wife was standing near the front door, bored and impatient.
“How long have you been in America?”
“Since I was six.” She aimed a deliberately cold glance. “About the same age as your little girl. Excuse me—”
He had his hand on her arm before he could stop himself. Even though he knew the move was a bad one, the venom in her eyes surprised him. “Sorry. I was going to ask you about this music box.”
Natasha shifted her gaze to it as the music began to wind down. “It’s one of our best, handcrafted here in the States. Are you interested in buying it?”
“I haven’t decided, but I thought you might not have realized it was sitting out on that shelf.”
“Why?”
“It’s not the kind of merchandise one expects to find in a toy store. It could easily be broken.”
Natasha took it and placed it farther back on the shelf. “And it can be mended.” She made a quick, clearly habitual movement with her shoulders. It spoke of arrogance rather than carelessness. “I believe children should be allowed the pleasures of music, don’t you?”
“Yes.” For the first time a smile flickered over his face. It was, as Annie had noted, a particularly effective one, Natasha had to admit. Through her annoyance she felt the trickle of attraction, and strangely, kinship. Then he said, “As a matter of fact, I believe that quite strongly. Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner.”
Holding herself rigid, Natasha battled back fury. It was difficult for one with her hot, often turbulent nature, but she reminded herself that the man had not only his wife, but his young daughter in the store.
The angry insults that rose to her throat were swallowed, but not before Spence saw them reflected in her eyes.
“No,” was all she said as she turned.
“Miss—” Spence began, then Freddie whirled down the aisle, carrying a big, floppy Raggedy Ann.
“Daddy, isn’t she nice?” Eyes shining, she held out the doll for his approval.
It was redheaded, Spence thought. But it was anything but beautiful. Nor, to his relief, was it a symbol of Angela. Because he knew Freddie expected it, he took his time examining her choice. “This is,” he said after a moment, “the very best doll I’ve seen today.”
“Really?”
He crouched until he was eye to eye with his daughter. “Absolutely. You have excellent taste, funny face.”
Freddie reached out, crushing the doll between them as she hugged her father. “I can have her?”
“I thought she was for me.” As Freddie giggled, he picked up the pair of them.
“I’ll be happy to wrap her for you.” Natasha’s tone was warmer, she knew. He might be a jerk, but he loved his daughter.
“I can carry her.” Freddie squeezed her new friend close.
“All right. Then I’ll just give you a ribbon for her hair. Would you like that?”
“A blue one.”
“A blue one it is.” Natasha led the way to the cash register.
Nina took one look at the doll and rolled her eyes. “Darling, is that the best you could do?”
“Daddy likes her,” Freddie murmured, ducking her head.
“Yes, I do. Very much,” he added with a telling look for Nina. Setting Freddie on her feet again, he fished out his wallet.
The mother was certainly no prize, Natasha decided. Though that didn’t give the man a right to come on to a clerk in a toy store. She made change and handed over the receipt, then took out a length of blue ribbon.
“Thank you,” she said to Freddie. “I think she’s going to like her new home with you very much.”
“I’ll take good care of her,” Freddie promised, while she struggled to tie the ribbon through the yarn mop of hair. “Can people come in to look at the toys, or do they have to buy one?”
Natasha smiled, then taking another ribbon, tied a quick, sassy bow in the child’s hair. “You can come in and look anytime you like.”
“Spence, we really must be going.” Nina stood holding the door open.
“Right.” He hesitated. It was a small town, he reminded himself. And if Freddie could come in and look, so could he. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Stanislaski.”
“Goodbye.” She waited until the door jingled and closed, then let out a muttered stream of curses.
Annie peeked around a
