Read Online Savant by Rex Miller - Free Book Online Page B

and fifty dollars." Only the two of them were in the shop. She was sure he'd be irritated or amazed, but he nodded instead.
    "Okay. I'll take this. I'll probably be getting some other books so—is it all right if I leave this here for the time being?" He had placed the book toward the back of the long counter.
    "Sure. That's fine."
    "That's one I've been hunting," the good-looking guy said, heading back toward the books. Obviously, he was a real collector. She wondered if he'd try to write a check and how she'd handle it when she had to tell him no.
    He went back to the stacks with his heart beating. What a find, Twelve-fifty was way, way low. He was so pumped up he bought a dupe of Idriess's Sniping: With an Episode from the Author's Experiences During the War of 1914-18 , a common little publication, because it was in perfect condition in the dust jacket. He was stoked.
    "This is a great store. And I love the name of the place: Dog Soldiers!" He laughed and the girl made an appreciative chuckle.
    "Thanks." She felt tongue-tied. One of the sides of her blouse was riding a bit low on the shoulder. She didn't care.
    He looked for another ten minutes and came back to the counter with an autographed first edition of Daoust's Cent-Vingt Jours de Service Actif: Récit Historique Trés Complet de la Campagne du 65 Eme au Nord-Ouest (1886), Shooting to Survive: Indian-Fighting at Adobe Walls and Buffalo Wallow , an original FMFMI—3B manual, Memoirs of a Marksman at Peachtree Creek , and an ultrarare edition of Tagebuch: Eines Ordonnanzoffiziers Von 1812-1813 that made Bobby's ticker start thumping hard again when he saw the hand-drawn map in color! He loved this store and everybody in it.
    "You must be a real collector," she said, not keeping the awe out of her voice. He had peeled off twenty-seven pictures of the late, great Benjamin Franklin, then went back and got the bound book of Sniper's Journal magazines , which brought his purchase to nearly three thousand dollars. Hardly the biggest sale she'd rung up but Bobby Beautiful paid for these as if he were buying an armful of paperbacks at B. Dalton or Waldenbooks, instead of plunking down three grand for a few books and booklets. He was gorgeous, single, and rich. She wasn't going to let him out of the store alive.
    "Didn't you see anything else that you liked?" she asked him boldly, the heat evident in her voice. Not caring about what a bimbo she might appear, or how far the blouse was slipping down as she leaned forward on the counter.
    "I saw a lot that I liked." He had ferocious eyes, and he ate her up with his gaze—just the way the man in the romance novel had devoured the heroine. "I didn't think I could afford it. It looked too special," he said. She thought she was going to have a heart attack.
    "You're never going to know unless you ask." She colored at her own chutzpah. She boxed the books very carefully.
    "I need somebody who really knows these things to act as a guide. You know what I mean? Like—well, you know this stuff. I wonder if I could get you to help me? Say, later, when you get off work? Would you have time to advise me in these collecting matters?" Why did he go through this over and over? He knew it wouldn't amount to anything but he insisted on putting himself through it. Maybe he'd get one who'd do what he wanted without having to pay for it.
    "But we hardly know one another," she said, coquettishly, telling him yes in every other way but words.
    "Sure we do. I'm Bobby. You're Melissa. What more do we need to know?"
    "Are you married—for one thing."
    "Uh-uh." What an airhead. He was already regretting it, but the blouse and bra had fallen away from her breasts and he couldn't help but notice a distinct nip in the air. "Are you?"
    "Free. White. Twenty-one. Female."
    "What time do you get off…work?"
    "Four-thirty. I live down the street."
    "Hey—that's great. Would you mind if I drop by? Take you out for dinnah? " he asked. She thought his accent