Uneasy Alliance Read Online Free PDF Page B

tonight as he had been the night before. The dark suit he
    wore was set off by a formal white shirt adorned with a conservative tie
    and small cuff links. Real gold cuff links, Abby noted with a flash of
    annoyance. Was he rich?
    "Something wrong?" he asked politely as she continued to stare up at
    him. "Did I use the wrong knot on the tie?"
    She shook her head, breaking the small spell, and stood back to let him
    inside. "No, of course not. I was just wondering if you were rich. Watch
    out for that stack of panthothenic-acid tablets. I just got a new shipment
    in today."
    "Does it matter?" Torr avoided the uneven stack of green-and-gold
    boxes piled just inside the door.
    "If you hit the tablets? Not to me. You're the one who'd have to pick
    them up and restack them," she answered, grinning wryly.
    "I meant would it matter if I'm rich?" he said patiently.
    "Well, I usually don't date men who might be a great deal more
    successful than I am," she explained honestly.
    "If you like, we can compare bank balances over dinner," he murmured,
    amber eyes gleaming as he surveyed her slender figure in the close-fitting
    blue dress. "Although, I have to admit the topic doesn't sound particularly
    exciting."
    "It might if it turned out I was a lot richer than you," she suggested
    blithely, moving away to collect her black leather trench coat.
    "Do you think you might be?"
    "No," she replied, sighing.
    "You're really wary of rich men?"
    "I'm cautious."
    "I think you're cautious about every sort of man." He held the door for
    her. "Someday you'll have to tell me why."
    "You haven't answered my question."
    "About being rich?" He lifted one shoulder negligently as he took her
    arm. "That's a relative situation, don't you think? How do I know what
    you'd consider rich?"
    She was silent as they rode the elevator downstairs and walked through
    the lobby. "You're not going to answer the question, are you?" she finally
    demanded shrewdly.
    "Not now. No."
    "Which means you probably are rich," she groaned.
    "I asked you not to make snap judgments last night," he reminded her
    as he escorted her out to the waiting BMW.
    "I'm not the only one who has that problem," she pointed out as he slid
    into the seat beside her. "You made some pretty fast judgments yourself
    last night."
    "Deciding that I wanted to go to bed with you wasn't a snap judgment."
    He switched on the ignition and pulled away from the curb with efficient
    skill. "I'd been watching you create those wild hopelessly chaotic flower
    arrangements for three weeks before I realized that it was the creator of
    the arrangements and not the designs themselves which appealed to me."
    "I'm not sure I should find that flattering." Abby's mouth lifted
    irrepressibly at the corners. "I mean if it took you three weeks to realize it
    was me instead of the flowers you wanted to date…"
    "I tend to make my mind up slowly and carefully," he admitted.
    "I thought people who traded commodities had to make quick decisions
    all the time."
    "I made the basic decision to get into commodities only after a lot of
    deliberation. Once into them I was committed. The trading part is a
    combination of skill and luck—just like any other business. I'm relatively
    good at business. After the basic decision of whether or not to trade has
    been made, the other judgments don't require a lot of meditation. One
    just does what has to be done in order to be successful."
    "So now I'm a business decision? I think I prefer the flower analogy,"
    Abby quipped, beginning to enjoy the sparring.
    He shot her a quick, assessing glance before returning his attention to
    his driving. "Are you deliberately baiting me, Abby?"
    "Perhaps. Does it annoy you?"
    "No. I consider it a good sign. If you're trying to provoke me, you must
    not be terribly afraid of me."
    The serious remark was irritating, Abby discovered. "I'm not sure I like
    being analyzed."
    "There are a lot of things you don't like, aren't there?" he observed
    casually as he