That Special Smile/Whittenburg

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Of course, most of her monologue this evening had been at his instigation. Every time she paused or turned an inquisitive look to her sister, he posed another question, urging her to continue. It wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do, he knew, but he was interested and he wanted to see just how long Sylvie Anne could sustain her composed, polite expression.

  Indefinitely, it seemed, although he thought she was beginning to show signs of stress.

  Her finger was drawing a steady, repetitive pattern on the sweaty side of her glass and Max felt sure that at any moment she would adjust the fit of the wire-rimmed glasses she wore. He had noticed the change of spectacles the moment he’d seen her that evening. She had traded her earlier outfit for a sleek and classy blue dress that did nice things for her body. The hemline showed her long legs to advantage and the strappy sandals she wore now had a high heel and added a bright splash of color and style.

  But it was the trendy frames of her glasses –

  a different pair than she’d worn before – that added the extra flare, a cool hint of mystery.

  Sylvie Anne had dressed for him, whether she realized it or not.

  Her entire ensemble had been chosen to give the impression of inaccessibility, and Max could only assume she’d meant the message for him.

  But he was beginning to get other messages from Sylvie, little signals that he chose to interpret as reciprocal interest.

  She’d go down in flames before admitting it, but he knew she was aware of it too. The very fact that she treated the whole thing as a joke appealed to his sense of humor. But despite her attempts to deny it, he knew there was a very real, very serious attraction operating below the surface...for both of them.

  Max shifted position and caught Sylvie’s glance. His eyes held hers in a brief but scintillating encounter. As she turned her head, her fingers moved to touch the frame of her glasses and Max felt a slow smile begin. He knew he was enjoying the early rituals of this flirtation far more than was prudent, but she was so delightfully indifferent, so careful to maintain that cut-above-the-rest composure. He couldn’t resist the challenge.

  It was a flaw in his character, he supposed, but he was going to see just how deep Sylvie’s resistance ran.

  “...and in the end, everything worked out just the way Sylvie said it would, but there were a few anxious….” Juliette straightened and her eyes widened as she looked through the window. “Oh, there’s John and Melissa. See? Outside. On the sidewalk.” She lifted her hand to wave. “You remember meeting them this afternoon, don’t you, Sylvie? They have the bakery with the heavenly cookies.”

  Sylvie remembered, but had no time to comment before Juliette was pushing back her chair. Max got only halfway out of his own chair before Juliette was pushing him back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get up, Max,” she said. “I just want to tell Melissa something I forgot. You and Sylvie stay put and I’ll be right back.”

  Juliette left the table and Sylvie decided the ensuing silence was the high point of the evening. Even Max, as he settled back into a lazy posture, seemed to be absorbing the sudden quiet as if it were an after-dinner mint.

  “Is it true?”

  “That she’ll be back?” Sylvie nodded wearily. “I’m afraid so.”

  His husky chuckle had a pleasant resonance, a soothing richness. “I meant is it true that you spiked the punch at the sophomore prom and then had to resuscitate Juliette’s short basketball player?”

  “Oh, Max, you didn’t really listen to all that, did you?”

  “Of course I listened.” He paused, and his eyes darkened to a flirty velvet-blue. “After all, she was talking about you.”

  “And talking and talking. You shouldn’t have encouraged her.”

  His grin was disarming. “You noticed that, huh?”

  “Oh, I’ve been awake off and on all evening. Actually, Max, you got exactly what you deserved.”

  “I usually do, Sylvie Anne. You might want to remember that.”

  “I’ll make a note in my diary just as soon as you break into the house and open the door.” Sylvie tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced at the window. Juliette was outside on the sidewalk, chattering away, her hands moving up and down as she told Melissa whatever it was she had forgotten to tell that afternoon. With a sigh Sylvie looked back to Max.

  “I still can’t believe I forgot to get the key. It’s usually the first thing I ask for whenever I’m staying with her. It doesn’t matter which lock the key fits – house, car, file cabinet, or jewelry box. If it can be locked, Juliette can lose the key.”

  “I haven’t noticed that she has too much of a problem with that sort of thing. As far as I know, you’re the first person who’s been locked out.” He smiled. “Twice in one day, Sylvie. Maybe she’s trying to tell you something.”

  Sylvie straightened her shoulders. “Maybe you just don’t know everything that happens next door.”

  “This morning you seemed to think I knew quite a bit about it. Are you having a little trouble deciding on which side of the property line I belong?” He lifted his coffee cup and sipped, watching her all the while.

  “I haven’t given it much thought, but I do hope you’ll stay on our side long enough to get the house unlocked.”

  “Our?”

  With a shrug Sylvie took her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. “I’m accustomed to using the plural possessive with Juliette. A habit left from when I lived at home, I suppose.”

  “Probably something similar to Juliette’s habit of depending on you to remember the key.”

  Sylvie regarded him pensively. “I hardly think that could be called a habit. Juliette was excited about going out to dinner with you tonight and she simply forgot, that’s all.”

  “And is that the reason you forgot the key, Sylvie Anne? Were you excited about being with me?”

  “You should never ask a question like that, Max, unless you’re prepared to hear an honest answer.”

  “I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”

  “And spoil the mood of this entire evening with a bit of truth? No, I wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “It’s all right.” He pushed back his chair and prepared to rise. “I know what you would have said.” Standing, he came around the table to pull back her chair. “And I know it would have been a bit of the truth and a bit of a lie too. But I’d still like to know…” He smiled down at her. “…if you spiked the punch.”

  She tucked her purse under her arm, picked up the embroidered clutch Juliette had left behind, and stood, facing Max. “The reports of my heroism are greatly exaggerated. I told you this afternoon you shouldn’t believe everything Juliette says.”

  “I hope that holds true for you too.” With a touch of his hand to her back he kept Sylvie beside him as he walked toward the counter and the waiting cashier. “The reports of my relationship with your sister have been exaggerated somewhat as well.”

  Sylvie wasn’t in the mood for that kind of honesty. It wasn’t any of her business, for one thing, and for another, it gave her a definite feeling of disloyalty. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Max. Juliette falls in and out of love the way most people catch a cold. With the kind of attention you paid her during dinner, I’m sure she’s already beginning to sniffle.”

  His lips curved just a little as he stopped to pay the check. Then, slipping his billfold into his hip pocket, he turned to face her. “I think you missed the point, Sylvie Anne. I was only listening to Juliette tonight. I was paying attention to you.”

  “Then you’ve had a doubly wasted evening, Max.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m going to reserve judgment on that until later.” He opened the door for her, and as she walked past him, her chin high, heels tapping the floor in determined steps, her whole demeanor one of cool, impenetrable confidence, he knew he had to have the last word. “In the meantime, Sylvie, you should take a little extra vitamin C, yourself.”

  It was the most casually provocat
ive statement any man had made to her in ages, and a fine thread of pleasure spun through her senses. Not that she believed he actually meant it, but still....

  “No need for that. I have a natural immunity to the common cold.”

  “Oh, are we going?” Juliette waved to her friends and joined Sylvie and Max in front of the restaurant. “I was just getting ready to come back inside.” She took the purse Sylvie offered. “Thanks, Syl. And thank you for dinner, Max. It was great. Wasn’t it, Sylvie?”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Great.”

  Max smiled his acceptance of the overwhelming appreciation. “Would anyone like to go for a drive?” he asked.

  “Let’s!” Juliette clapped her hands, dropped her purse, and bent to retrieve it.

  “Let’s break into your house instead.” Sylvie stopped to wait for her sister, but Max merely shortened his stride. “First things first.”

  “Well, afterward we can go for a drive.” Juliette passed by Sylvie to catch up with Max.

  “Not me,” Sylvie said, although it seemed somewhat unnecessary. “The only place I’m going is to bed.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Max observed, swinging an amused glance in Sylvie’s direction. “Bed sounds like the perfect place to be. I think I might be coming down with something.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment and concern blended in Juliette’s voice, but Sylvie thought he was just asking for trouble. “Well, I guess if you both....”

  Juliette turned her concern toward Sylvie. “You’re not coming down with a cold or anything, are you?”

  “Of course not.” It was the most definite answer she’d ever given to that particular question, but she wanted to leave no doubt in Max’s mind.

  Satisfied, she drew a deep breath of the clean, pine-scented air...and sneezed.

  Once and then again.

  * * * *

  “Are you about to get it?” Juliette leaned closer, peering over Max’s shoulder as he tried to jimmy the window.

  He sighed and slowly straightened. “Why don’t you let Sylvie hold the flashlight for a while?”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Juliette assured him. “I’m not tired.”

  Max turned a look of appeal to Sylvie and she took pity on him. She rose to her feet from the low balustrade where she’d been sitting for the past twenty minutes while Juliette and Max had gathered the break-in equipment and gone to work on the window. So far there had been little progress, but then Juliette was having a problem holding the light steady.

  “Need some help?” Sylvie asked as she crossed the porch and took the flashlight from her sister. “I thought you were experienced with this sort of thing, Max. Why is it taking so long?”

  “Nothing was said about experience or time requirements.” He bent to the window again. “But I’m sure it would go faster if I didn’t have to give on-the-job training to my accomplices in crime.”

  “Oh, my God,” Juliette whispered, “I never thought of that.”

  “On-the-job training?” Sylvie asked.

  “No, crime. What if we get arrested?”

  “We’ll show the arresting officer your driver’s license or some kind of identification,” Sylvie said as she tried to position the light so Max could see what he was doing. “You’ll think of something, Juliette. I’ve seen you explain your way out of situations that were more incriminating than this. Although if Max doesn’t hurry up….”

  “Hold it steady, would you?” Max took hold of the flashlight and directed the beam at the sill.

  “I don’t have my license.” Juliette leaned against the side of the house and began rummaging through her purse. “My billfold wouldn’t fit. Oh, wait, here’s something.” Paper rustled, but Sylvie didn’t pay much attention. She just wanted to get the window opened, the door unlocked, and herself into bed.

  “It’s that letter,” Juliette said. “I meant to tell you about this, Sylvie Anne. But after I read it, I stuck it in this purse and…” She bumped against Sylvie as she tried to hold the piece of paper toward the light. “…I didn’t think of it, again. Until now.”

  “Watch out, Juliette.” Sylvie managed to keep the flashlight steady.

  “What? Oh, sorry. It’s from an attorney in Fayetteville about the house.”

  “This house?” Sylvie watched as Max carefully pried the window up a bare quarter of an inch.

  “No. Hannah Lee House. The one we bought for the business. There’s a…” She held the paper closer to the flashlight. “…a lien on the property.”

  “What?” Sylvie turned the light fully on the paper. “A lien? Are you sure?”

  “Hey! How am I supposed to break in if I can’t see?”

  Sylvie ignored Max’s grumbling as she read the letter. “Benton Prestridge,” she said when she’d finished. “You were supposed to contact him, Juliette. Did you…by any chance?” It was a foolish question, but Sylvie felt she ought to ask.

  Juliette stiffened in self-defense. “I just found the letter, Sylvie. How could I have contacted him when I didn’t even remember I got it until just now?”

  There was no point in asking how she had come to misplace the letter in the first place. “When did you receive it, Juliette?”

  Max sighed in frustrated patience. “Look at the date, Sylvie. Then please hold the light so I can get this damned window open.”

  The flashlight beam flicked to the upper right-hand quadrant. “Two weeks ago. Didn’t it occur to you to do something then, Jules?” Sylvie let the useless question fade and mimicked Max’s sigh. “I’ll phone him first thing in the morning.”

  She pointed the light downward and found Max frowning up at her, his eyes indigo in the darkness. “I thought the business belonged to Julie,” he said.

  “It does. Of course, it does. But as you can see, she doesn’t always take care of things.”

  “She can handle this.”

  Juliette folded the letter, her discomfort obvious in the noisy way she crumpled the paper. “Max is right, Sylvie. Let me handle this.”

  Sylvie had no idea how she had become the bad guy in the overall scheme of things, but Juliette certainly wasn’t upset with Max for butting in. And she didn’t seem overly upset with Mr. Benton Prestridge either. So that only left Sylvie to take the blame.

  Max should have kept his unsolicited opinion to himself.

  There was a splintery sound as the wooden sill gave way. Max pushed open the window. “All right, Julie,” he announced. “You can slip through the opening and go around to the front door.”

  “Thanks, Max.” Juliette tugged at the front of her pants’ legs before putting one foot over the sill and into the room.

  Once inside, she leaned out to smile in triumph. “I knew you could do it, Max.”

  Her voice was perfectly innocent, but it irritated Sylvie nonetheless. She resolved that she wouldn’t, absolutely would not, feed his ego. Holding the flashlight steady and with equally steady intent, she reached to touch the sill and examine the damage done to the window frame.

  “I’ll fix that tomorrow.” He straightened and moved away from her, and Sylvie wished she hadn’t let her irritation goad her into such pettiness.

  After all, what difference did a few scratches in the wood make?

  “Unless, of course…” He turned to her with a smile that, in the darkness, might have been teasing or challenging. “…you want to take care of it.”

  Her hands clenched, but she maintained her composure. “I’ll have you know that my wood refinishing skills are topnotch. But I’m not the one who caused the damage and I don’t think I ought to be the one to fix it.”

  A subtle tension steeped in the silence and Sylvie willed Max to give her an excuse, any excuse, for telling him what was really on her mind.

  Instead, he picked up his tools, flipped the herringbone jacket over his arm, and walked to the end of the porch.

  “A simple no, thank you will suffice, Sylvie Anne.” He stepped over the balustrade and started across the y
ard.

  Moonlight caught at the midnight dusk of his hair and then she couldn’t see him at all. The door beside her opened and Juliette stood in the lighted hallway.

  “About that letter…,” she began hesitantly, looking anxious. “I’ll call that man tomorrow, but I just…. Well, I need to know what, exactly, is a lien?”

  “A lien on property is....” Sylvie tried to focus her attention on Juliette and the latest complication, but she couldn’t seem to pull her eyes or her thoughts from the darkness on the other side of the balustrade.

  She wanted to apologize to Max. Felt she ought to apologize.

  Which was ridiculous since she’d done nothing to apologize for.

  He was the one who ought to apologize. He’d done all the teasing. He’d been goading her all evening with his flirty comments and seductive glances. He’d been the one to state an opinion that had been neither needed nor asked for.

  But the apology stayed on her tongue and would not go away. So, all right, she could admit she had overreacted – a little – but then Max didn’t understand about Juliette and how she handled things by not handling them and....

  “Sylvie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The lien?”

  “I don’t know, Juliette.” Sylvie lifted her hand in a distracted gesture. “Look it up in the dictionary or something.”

  “I know what it is, Sylvie, I just don’t know what it means.” Juliette paused. “What’s wrong with you anyway? Why don’t you come inside? I’ve been holding this door for the longest time.”

  Sylvie turned in sudden decision. “I want to tell Max something. When I get back, we’ll talk about the lien, all right?”

  Juliette frowned uncertainly. “Do you want me to go over with you?”

  Sylvie shook her head. “I can handle Max.”

  “If you’re not home by dawn, I’ll know you did just that.” Juliette flashed her back-to-normal, saucy grin and closed the door.

  Chapter Five

  Sylvie approached Max’s house with brisk confidence, but she had a sudden awkward feeling as the front porch came into view and she saw him sitting on the top step. The house behind him was dark, but the moon illuminated the porch and Max with a silvery, dusky light. She was struck by the very real, very masculine appeal of his dark hair and blue eyes, his strong facial features, and the secure confidence that was such an integral part of him.