into her stomach. Swallow, swallow .
She must have been staring into space because Mack moved toward her. He put a hand on her cheek, but she pulled away. There was something about this man that felt too good, too tempting. She didn’t deserve to feel good.
“Are you well, Beth?”
She didn’t answer, simply moved past him toward the door. She reached into her purse and retrieved her keys and unlocked the door to the building, which didn’t quite feel like home anymore. She walked in and Mack followed.
Once over the threshold, he exclaimed, “Crikey! This place is crammed with antiques.”
Beth stared into the packed front room with little interest. Her gaze traveled along the edges of embellished sideboards, up the length of tall cabinets, and back down toward several expensive rugs on the floor. “Frank was a TV appraiser but also had an antiques business on the side. He was an avid collector and sold a lot all over Britain. It was his passion.”
Mack took up a spot at her side, holding the strange pelt blanket she’d found in her hospital room. He rested the pelt on her couch. “But it’s not yours?”
“I barely know a sideboard from a wardrobe. I’m a music teacher. I know pianos.” She looked around the room as tightness gripped her chest. “With Frank gone, I figured I should sell all this stuff and go back home. I just haven’t been able to make a start.”
“To Florida?” Mack arched an eyebrow at her while frowning with the other brow, giving his face an almost comical slant.
“Yeah. My parents and sisters are there. There’s nothing for me here.”
He frowned harder at her but said nothing.
She continued, suddenly willing to open up to him a bit more. “I’ve inherited Frank’s business, but don’t have the first clue what to do with it. If he were here, he’d be able to tell me who the reputable dealers are, who to approach for a sale, but I don’t know where to begin. I just want to liquidate everything and go. I can’t be here in this house anymore, surrounded by his things. And Luke’s things. I suppose I could give those to charity, but I just can’t let them go…”
Mack grabbed her hand. The intricate webbing teased her fingers, and she bit back a gasp because it felt sinful and luxurious on her skin, like a kiss from silky lips.
“Beth, you don’t have to make any decisions right now. There’s no deadline. And no one would blame you for keeping your son’s things.”
She let out a half laugh. “My sister Connie does. ‘Get rid of everything,’ she says. ‘Start fresh.’ She has three kids. I can’t imagine her starting fresh if anything happened to one of them. I know she’s trying to help, though.”
Mack offered her a grin that was so gentle and kind it made her stomach twist and turn at the attention. “I mean no disrespect to your sister, but bugger Connie.”
A strange quiver erupted under Beth’s ribs, one that tickled her. It danced up her chest and spilled from her, catching her off guard. For the first time in a year, Beth had let out a real laugh. Not a fake one, not a bitter one. A real burst of amusement. And Mack seemed just as shocked as she was. His dark eyes widened, and his smile was so wide it grazed his ears. She gawked at him, her cheeks hurting from smiling. They hurt a lot. She’d forgotten what it was like to smile. It was a good pain.
He’d made her laugh. Astonishing.
She glanced down at his hand, the one she was still holding. “You have very unusual hands.”
His nostrils flared and he averted his eyes. “I’m a very unusual man.” He cleared his throat and let her hand go. “Listen. As it happens, I’m somewhat of an antique expert…”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. There was a loud knock on the door. Before she could walk over to open it, it cracked open of its own accord and Gerald Finnegan eased in, bearing a large CorningWare dish. Beth rushed over. “Gerald, I wasn’t expecting you.”
The
She must have been staring into space because Mack moved toward her. He put a hand on her cheek, but she pulled away. There was something about this man that felt too good, too tempting. She didn’t deserve to feel good.
“Are you well, Beth?”
She didn’t answer, simply moved past him toward the door. She reached into her purse and retrieved her keys and unlocked the door to the building, which didn’t quite feel like home anymore. She walked in and Mack followed.
Once over the threshold, he exclaimed, “Crikey! This place is crammed with antiques.”
Beth stared into the packed front room with little interest. Her gaze traveled along the edges of embellished sideboards, up the length of tall cabinets, and back down toward several expensive rugs on the floor. “Frank was a TV appraiser but also had an antiques business on the side. He was an avid collector and sold a lot all over Britain. It was his passion.”
Mack took up a spot at her side, holding the strange pelt blanket she’d found in her hospital room. He rested the pelt on her couch. “But it’s not yours?”
“I barely know a sideboard from a wardrobe. I’m a music teacher. I know pianos.” She looked around the room as tightness gripped her chest. “With Frank gone, I figured I should sell all this stuff and go back home. I just haven’t been able to make a start.”
“To Florida?” Mack arched an eyebrow at her while frowning with the other brow, giving his face an almost comical slant.
“Yeah. My parents and sisters are there. There’s nothing for me here.”
He frowned harder at her but said nothing.
She continued, suddenly willing to open up to him a bit more. “I’ve inherited Frank’s business, but don’t have the first clue what to do with it. If he were here, he’d be able to tell me who the reputable dealers are, who to approach for a sale, but I don’t know where to begin. I just want to liquidate everything and go. I can’t be here in this house anymore, surrounded by his things. And Luke’s things. I suppose I could give those to charity, but I just can’t let them go…”
Mack grabbed her hand. The intricate webbing teased her fingers, and she bit back a gasp because it felt sinful and luxurious on her skin, like a kiss from silky lips.
“Beth, you don’t have to make any decisions right now. There’s no deadline. And no one would blame you for keeping your son’s things.”
She let out a half laugh. “My sister Connie does. ‘Get rid of everything,’ she says. ‘Start fresh.’ She has three kids. I can’t imagine her starting fresh if anything happened to one of them. I know she’s trying to help, though.”
Mack offered her a grin that was so gentle and kind it made her stomach twist and turn at the attention. “I mean no disrespect to your sister, but bugger Connie.”
A strange quiver erupted under Beth’s ribs, one that tickled her. It danced up her chest and spilled from her, catching her off guard. For the first time in a year, Beth had let out a real laugh. Not a fake one, not a bitter one. A real burst of amusement. And Mack seemed just as shocked as she was. His dark eyes widened, and his smile was so wide it grazed his ears. She gawked at him, her cheeks hurting from smiling. They hurt a lot. She’d forgotten what it was like to smile. It was a good pain.
He’d made her laugh. Astonishing.
She glanced down at his hand, the one she was still holding. “You have very unusual hands.”
His nostrils flared and he averted his eyes. “I’m a very unusual man.” He cleared his throat and let her hand go. “Listen. As it happens, I’m somewhat of an antique expert…”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. There was a loud knock on the door. Before she could walk over to open it, it cracked open of its own accord and Gerald Finnegan eased in, bearing a large CorningWare dish. Beth rushed over. “Gerald, I wasn’t expecting you.”
The
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