Sleight Of Hand Read Online Free PDF Page B

directly to Chance. "I, ah...sorry."
    He slid out of the booth. "You're welcome to
come to our reception tomorrow night. The address is in the paper."
He kept his eyes on Chance as if he didn't dare look away. With a
half-hearted smile, he turned and fled from the restaurant.
    "There may be hope for you yet." Cindy spoke
loud enough for only him to hear as she set their coffee and tea on
the table. "We've got fresh scallops in today." She picked up her
order book from the tray.
    "Sounds good to me. Sarah?"
    Interesting how the angry sparks in her eyes
turned them almost luminous. Chance studied Sarah's narrowed gaze.
She definitely didn't look as though she were enamored with him. It
would be interesting to see her look at him like she was supposed
to, like she was in love with him. His throat suddenly dry and
tight, he grabbed his cup of coffee and drank the hot, black
liquid.
    "I love fresh seafood." Sarah passed the menu
to Cindy. "Can I have a salad with that instead of the other
vegetables?"
    "Not a problem, honey. This won't take long."
Cindy winked at them. "I know you two are anxious to get back to
your love nest."
    After the explosive kiss they'd shared, he
didn't know if he could trust himself back at the old love nest. He
took another gulp from his mug, but the steaming coffee added to
his rising temperature.
    Sarah leaned toward him, her voice low, but
not low enough for him to miss her annoyance. "Why did you do
that?"
    "What, order scallops?"
    "You know exactly what I mean. Why were you
rude to Melvin? I thought you wanted people to open up to us."
    "You don't know much about men, do you?" He
drained his coffee cup.
    "I suppose you're going to enlighten me."
    "A hint, that's all you get." He smiled,
enjoying her exasperation. "It's like this. It doesn't matter who
or what we are, men don't think with their brains. At least, not
when we're around a beautiful woman like you."
    Her eyes widened, and her face flushed pink
as his meaning sunk in. She pulled the newspaper in front of her
and stared down at it. "You are incorrigible, Chance Spencer."
    "No, I'm a man, and for once, I'm trying to
be honest."
    Before he could stop himself, he reached out
and ran his hand down her braid. "I wish you hadn't done this to
your hair."
    "You're the one who said I'd stick out too
much around here." She kept her gaze trained on the paper.
    "Here we go. Told you it wouldn't take long."
Cindy plunked two plates down on the table and scooped up the
newspaper. "Melvin showed me a book of Ansel Adams' photographs the
other day." She tossed the newspaper on her empty tray. "Don't get
me wrong, I thought those pictures were real good, but they just
don't compare to the Group of Seven."
    Chance's hand halted halfway to his mouth,
the fat, juicy scallop speared on the end of his fork forgotten. He
placed the fork back on his plate. "That's an unusual comparison,
Cindy," he said, carefully.
    "That's what I told Melvin. Who's going to
look at photographs, when all of us grew up staring at Tom Thomson
and Lauren Harris prints on the walls of our school?" Cindy hoisted
her tray on to one hip. "People like the familiar, I told him.
Nobody's going to care about some guy from California when we've
got the originals of our very own Canadian artists to look at."
    "You mean there's an exhibition of the Group
of Seven as well as Ansel Adams?" Sarah's voice was high with
disbelief.
    "Crazy, isn't it?" Cindy crowed. "A little
town like Ashley Cove having an exhibition worth millions of
dollars. Well, a couple of million, anyway," she added.
    Knowing the cost of security for shows
similar to this one, Chance couldn't believe what he was
hearing.
    "Where does the money come from for all this?
Security alone can run you thousands of dollars." He picked up his
fork and ate as though he wasn't really interested.
    Cindy snorted. "What security? You mean the
extra lock they put on the door? Whadda you think? That guy in the
papers all the time...that