Tangled Up in Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

soon-to-be-strangled-with-her-own-yarn Charlotte . . . beat her to the punch.
    “Of course, dear. I’m sure someone here would be delighted to teach you to knit.”
    And damned if that old woman’s cagey gaze wasn’t aimed directly at Ronnie.

 
     
Row 3
     
     
    “Great,” he breathed, and Ronnie could hear the relief in his voice. “Because I seem to be having a bit of trouble trying to figure this out on my own.”
    Before the words were completely out of his mouth, a blur of something dropped in front of her and landed with a light bounce in her lap. She jumped in surprise, then glanced down to see an ungodly tangle of baby-blue yarn knotted around two size ten needles.
    “Oh, sorry,” Dylan said, reaching around to retrieve the mangled mess. “I didn’t mean to—”
    He broke off as his head came level with hers and their eyes met.
    So much for melting into the seat of the faux leather armchair.
    “Chasen,” he muttered, making her name sound like a curse.
    Ignoring the erratic pounding in her chest and the spark in his clear blue eyes, she returned the favor. “Stone.”
    She curled her fingers, with their long, blood-red tips, around the sad proof of his colossal first attemptat knitting and held it out to him, her lips curved in an amused sneer. “I believe this is yours.”
    He took the ball of yarn—if it could be called that by any stretch of the imagination—and tucked his arm behind his back. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
    “Are things not going well with your latest challenge?” she asked sweetly.
    The corner of his eye twitched; a tiny, involuntary movement, no doubt brought about by an overload of stress.
    Deep down, Ronnie knew she should feel guilty for that, for being the one to have caused a facial tic in another human being. But even deeper down, she was giggling like a four-year-old who’d just discovered the Teletubbies at her birthday party.
    “I’ve got a month,” he reminded her. “Don’t count me out yet.”
    “Whatever you say.” She turned her attention away from him and back to her knitting. “That Harrison Award looks lovely on my dresser, and I’m in no hurry to give it up. I’m even thinking of building a little display case for it and any other awards I win from you in the future.”
    Though she wasn’t looking directly at him any longer, she imagined his eye was twitching again. He really loved his Harrison Award for excellence in journalism, which she grudgingly acknowledged he deserved, since she’d read the article that gained him the coveted prize. Not that she would ever admit such a thing to him or anyone else. Not even under threat of death . . . or a really bad perm.
    It galled him to no end that she maintained possessionof it, and that only made the attainment that much sweeter.
    His reply, when it came, was low and tight and edged with more than a hint of bitterness. “Like I said, don’t count me out yet. It might hurt too much when I take my award back and make you eat your words.”
    Ronnie gave a snort and increased the speed of her stitches, making sure he heard the rapid-fire clack of her needles. “Bring it on, Stone.”
    Like a tiny, red-haired Mother Teresa, Charlotte waddled across the space inside the circle of chairs and reached behind Dylan for his tangled ball of yarn.
    “Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll see what we can do about this. I’m Charlotte, by the way. You already know our Ronnie, I take it, but this is Melanie and Susan and Louella and Grace, and my darling niece, Jenna.”
    She went around the group, introducing everyone, and Ronnie was pleased to note that none of her friends offered more than narrowed eyes and semi-polite nods in response. Even Jenna and Grace, who already knew Dylan and were (or had been) involved with two of his best friends, remained stoically silent.
    God, she loved female loyalty. Dylan might think he was going to get some help with his knitting here, but she suspected