Read Online Sealed with a Kiss by Mae Nunn - Free Book Online

treatment these motorcycles get. And that’s why they’re going to sell.”
    Tara handed over her headgear, apparently oblivious to her light case of helmet hair.
    â€œBut aren’t these things expensive?” She grasped his outstretched hand and he hauled her to a standing position.
    â€œThey’re not cheap, but there are bargains to be had and I intend to offer great terms.”
    â€œYou’re not going to use your connections are you, Sam? Grandmother would never have given you this opportunity if she’d thought for a moment you were involved with someone dishonorable.”
    Taking a step closer to Tara, he stared down into her eyes.
    â€œSomeone dishonorable,” he repeated flatly. “You mean the kind of person who would use their good fortune to take advantage of others? You mean someone who might lie to serve their own purposes?” He watched her blink hard at the description. “Well, that’s the connection I have right now, don’t you reckon, Rusty?”
    He didn’t back away and she wouldn’t look away. Color swept over her throat, highlighted by the bright-yellow blouse. As crimson streaks snaked across her skin, she made no effort to do her silly breathing exercises. When the warmth reached her face, she took a small step closer, pressing the tip of her index finger into his chest.
    â€œListen, Sam, I tried to explain and you wouldn’t give me the chance.”
    â€œAnd I’m not going to let you explain it today, either.” He brushed her finger away. “You can live with the consequences of what happened, just like I have.”
    â€œYou think I haven’t?” She bristled. The heat infused her cheeks. “I’ve lived with it every day for nine years.”
    Arms folded across his chest, he leaned back to study her. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” He glanced down at his drug-store wristwatch. “You’ve got a while before they close, so get going. I’ll meet you back here in two hours.”
    The upward jerk of her chin and the sudden glistening in her eyes told Sam nothing was settled. But it never could be as far as he was concerned.
    Â 
    Tara splashed cool water on her face and dabbed it with a coarse paper towel. She ran shaking fingers through flattened hair, disgusted with her pitiful attempt to be feminine.
    How on earth were they supposed to be partners when they couldn’t even be civil? Did they stand a chance of helping the economy of a small town when they hardly stood the chance of being friends? What in the world was her grandmother thinking when she came up with this scheme?
    Tara pushed the troubling thoughts aside. At the moment there was a more pressing issue to address. She needed to secure a few eye-catching pieces to act as the central focus for her grand opening, only weeks away. She considered temporarily moving some of her own antiques from the house to the shop, but she wanted everything on display at Bridges to be for sale.
    No matter what the price, parting with the exquisite furnishings in Sycamore House was not an option. Yet.
    Several times already, she’d made that clear to the persistent Houston dealer who had called almost daily since Miriam Elliott’s obituary had been picked up by the Chronicle . The incredible ensemble of furniture, showcased in both Texas Living and Southern Comfort magazines was the envy of collectors across the state. At a well-advertised sale, it could fetch a prince’s ransom. She hoped she’d never have to resort to that plan.
    She shook her head, dismissing the very ideaand began to weave her way up and down the long marketplace aisles. Dealers from surrounding states brought everything from silver to stained glass, cheap pine nightstands to Chippendale chairs.
    The third-generation owners of The Heritage had hired her for her broad knowledge of collectibles, and her countless hours of study would pay off at