A Matter of Choice Read Online Free PDF Page B

help with the new shipment. Another's due in today."
    "Lotta good you'd do," Betsy began. Catching the look in David's eye, Slade cut in.
    "I was thinking about running down there myself. I'd like to see the place, maybe do a little research. I could give her a hand." He watched David struggle, caught between his desire to go to the shop and his need to lie down.
    "She'll try to move everything herself," he muttered.
    "That's the truth," Betsy agreed, apparently switching her annoyance from her son to her employer. "Nothing stops that one."
    "It's my job to move in the new stock, check it off. I don't--"
    "Moving furniture around shouldn't require any great knowledge of antiques," Slade put in casually. Knowing it was too perfect to let pass, he slipped into his jacket. "And since I was heading that way anyway..."
    "There, it's settled," Betsy announced. She had her son by the elbow before he could protest. "Mr. Sladerman will go look out for Miss Jessica. You go back to bed."
    "I'm not going back to bed. A chair, all I want's a chair." He sent Slade a weak smile. "Hey, thanks. Tell Jessie I'm coming back on Monday.
    The paperwork oh the new stock can wait over the weekend. Tell her to humor the invalid and leave it for me."
    Slade nodded slowly. "Sure, I'll tell her." Turning, he started out, deciding that the new stock interested him very much.
    Fifteen minutes later Slade parked in the small graveled lot beside Jessica's shop. It was a small, framed building, fronted with several narrow windows. The shades were up. Through the glass, he could see her tugging on a large and obviously heavy piece of furniture. Cursing women in general, he walked to the front door and pulled it open.
    At the jingle of bells she spun around. That anyone would be by the shop at that hour surprised her--that Slade stood inside the door frowning at her surprised Jessica more. "Well..." The physical exertion had winded her so that she struggled to even her breathing. "I didn't expect to see you here." She didn't add that she wasn't particularly pleased either.
    She'd stripped off her jacket and pushed up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater. Beneath it, small high breasts rose and fell agitatedly. Slade remembered their softness against the back of his hand very clearly. He forgot he'd come to make peace with her.
    "Don't you have more sense than to push this stuff around yourself?" he demanded. With a quick oath, he pulled off his jacket and tossed it over a chair. Jessica stiffened her back as well as her tone.
    "Well, good morning to you too."
    Her annoyance rolled off of him. After crossing to her, Slade leaned against the large piece she'd been struggling with. "Where do you want it?" he asked shortly. "And I hope to God you're not one of those women who changes her mind a half dozen times."
    He watched her eyes narrow and darken as they had that night in the parlor. Oddly, he found her only more attractive when she was agitated.
    If it hadn't been for that, the way her chin jutted out might have amused him. "I don't believe anyone asked for your assistance." For the first time he was treated to the ice in her tone. "I'm capable of arranging my stock myself."
    "Don't be any more stupid than necessary," he shot back. "You're just going to hurt yourself. Now where do you want this thing?"
    "This thing," she began heatedly, "is a nineteenth-century French secretaire."
    He gave it a negligent glance. "Yeah, so? Where do you want me to put it?"
    "I'll tell you where you can put it--"
    His laughter cut her off. It was very male and full of fun. It wasn't a sound she had expected from him. With an effort, she swallowed a chuckle of her own as she stepped back from him. The last thing she wanted was to find anything appealing about James Sladerman. "Over there," she said coolly, pointing. Turning away, Jessica picked up a washstand to carry it in the opposite direction. When the sounds of wood sliding over wood had stopped, she turned back to