Gallery.
“Evidently,” Charlotte said. She smiled.
“This is great,” he exclaimed. Then reality hit him. He sighed and held out the compass to her. “But antiques are expensive. No way I can afford something like this.”
“I don’t see why we can’t work out some arrangements. Are you interested in a short-term job?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I could use someone to help me clean up this place. Dusting, sweeping, and washing the windows. The glass in the display cabinets is so grimy the customers can’t even see what’s on the shelves. Would you be interested in doing that kind of work in exchange for the compass?”
Excitement crackled through him. He closed his fingers tightly around the compass. “That’d be great. No problem. When do you want me to start?”
Charlotte looked around. “How about next week? I need to finish unpacking these crates and it would be best to complete an inventory before I start organizing and arranging the items on display.”
“Okay. See you.” He started toward the door and then froze under the crushing weight of sudden dismay. “Wait, I almost forgot. You may not want to give me the compass.”
“Why not?”
He turned around and braced himself. “I’m the one who was inside your shop last night.”
Charlotte folded her arms and looked at him with her knowing eyes. “I see.”
“I didn’t take anything, honest.”
“I believe you.”
“I just wanted to look around.”
“Next time you want to look around, try coming through the front door.”
“I shouldn’t have done it.”
“No,” she said. “Why did you?”
“I dunno. I just wanted to. Anyhow, I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Apology accepted. But don’t do it again.”
“Do you want the compass back?”
“No.” Charlotte smiled. “We have a deal. See you next week.”
“Okay.”
He ran for the door before she could change her mind.
Chapter 4
“SO, WHY HAVEN’T YOU EVER MARRIED?” SLADE ASKED .
Charlotte sipped some of the white wine and considered her answer while she watched Slade arrange the salmon on the outdoor grill. He dealt with the salmon and the fire the same way he seemed to do everything else: competently, coolly, with a minimum amount of fuss. Rex, perched on the porch railing, was watching the activity around the grill with rapt attention.
“You’re really interested?” Charlotte said finally.
“Damn curious,” Slade admitted. “Over the years, whenever I thought about you, I told myself you’d be married by now.”
“Remember me telling you that my talent had a few downsides?”
He paused, the metal spatula in midair, and looked at her. “Fifteen years ago you said something about having panic attacks when you run hot for any length of time. Didn’t you outgrow those?”
“Not entirely. I have much better control now. But I still get them if I get super jacked for too long.”
He shook his head. “Definitely a downside. But what does it have to do with the fact that you’ve never married?”
“It’s complicated.” She swallowed some more wine. “Let’s just say that, as far as professional matchmakers are concerned, I’m a difficult match.”
“So you did go to an agency?”
“Oh, sure, I went with the best, at least the best one for a member of the Arcane Society.”
“Arcanematch?”
“Yes.”
“I take it that didn’t go well?” he asked.
“I was reminded that no match is ever one hundred percent guaranteed perfect and that goes double for strong or extremely unusual talents. Turns out I fit both categories. Evidently that makes for a para-psych profile that has too many unknown or unpredictable elements.”
He frowned. “You told me that your ability was useless for anything except reading aura rainbows and tuning antiques.”
“That’s all it is good for. I happen to have a heck of a lot of talent for doing it.” Time to change the subject, Charlotte thought. “What about you? Ever try a match-making
“Evidently,” Charlotte said. She smiled.
“This is great,” he exclaimed. Then reality hit him. He sighed and held out the compass to her. “But antiques are expensive. No way I can afford something like this.”
“I don’t see why we can’t work out some arrangements. Are you interested in a short-term job?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I could use someone to help me clean up this place. Dusting, sweeping, and washing the windows. The glass in the display cabinets is so grimy the customers can’t even see what’s on the shelves. Would you be interested in doing that kind of work in exchange for the compass?”
Excitement crackled through him. He closed his fingers tightly around the compass. “That’d be great. No problem. When do you want me to start?”
Charlotte looked around. “How about next week? I need to finish unpacking these crates and it would be best to complete an inventory before I start organizing and arranging the items on display.”
“Okay. See you.” He started toward the door and then froze under the crushing weight of sudden dismay. “Wait, I almost forgot. You may not want to give me the compass.”
“Why not?”
He turned around and braced himself. “I’m the one who was inside your shop last night.”
Charlotte folded her arms and looked at him with her knowing eyes. “I see.”
“I didn’t take anything, honest.”
“I believe you.”
“I just wanted to look around.”
“Next time you want to look around, try coming through the front door.”
“I shouldn’t have done it.”
“No,” she said. “Why did you?”
“I dunno. I just wanted to. Anyhow, I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Apology accepted. But don’t do it again.”
“Do you want the compass back?”
“No.” Charlotte smiled. “We have a deal. See you next week.”
“Okay.”
He ran for the door before she could change her mind.
Chapter 4
“SO, WHY HAVEN’T YOU EVER MARRIED?” SLADE ASKED .
Charlotte sipped some of the white wine and considered her answer while she watched Slade arrange the salmon on the outdoor grill. He dealt with the salmon and the fire the same way he seemed to do everything else: competently, coolly, with a minimum amount of fuss. Rex, perched on the porch railing, was watching the activity around the grill with rapt attention.
“You’re really interested?” Charlotte said finally.
“Damn curious,” Slade admitted. “Over the years, whenever I thought about you, I told myself you’d be married by now.”
“Remember me telling you that my talent had a few downsides?”
He paused, the metal spatula in midair, and looked at her. “Fifteen years ago you said something about having panic attacks when you run hot for any length of time. Didn’t you outgrow those?”
“Not entirely. I have much better control now. But I still get them if I get super jacked for too long.”
He shook his head. “Definitely a downside. But what does it have to do with the fact that you’ve never married?”
“It’s complicated.” She swallowed some more wine. “Let’s just say that, as far as professional matchmakers are concerned, I’m a difficult match.”
“So you did go to an agency?”
“Oh, sure, I went with the best, at least the best one for a member of the Arcane Society.”
“Arcanematch?”
“Yes.”
“I take it that didn’t go well?” he asked.
“I was reminded that no match is ever one hundred percent guaranteed perfect and that goes double for strong or extremely unusual talents. Turns out I fit both categories. Evidently that makes for a para-psych profile that has too many unknown or unpredictable elements.”
He frowned. “You told me that your ability was useless for anything except reading aura rainbows and tuning antiques.”
“That’s all it is good for. I happen to have a heck of a lot of talent for doing it.” Time to change the subject, Charlotte thought. “What about you? Ever try a match-making
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