Read Online That Special Smile/Whittenburg by Karen Toller Whittenburg - Free Book Online

for her. She won’t wear it. She says there’s no reason to encourage a man to think she’s interested when she’s clearly pretending not to be. But I think….”
    “I think we ought to leave now.” Sylvie squelched the rest of Juliette’s comment with a pointed look. “Before I decide to change into something pink. ”
    Max placed a hand on the door and Sylvie walked past him, followed closely by Juliette...in a soft pink sweater.
    “You’re not getting this sweater, Sylvie. Besides, that bet doesn’t begin until we get home tonight, and I told you already pink will clash with your red hair. Won’t it, Max?” She turned the question to Max, who was closing the door behind them. “Oh, wait, Max. I forgot….” The door clicked shut. “…my key.”
    It was not a good beginning.
    * * * *
    “...but Sylvie told him she wasn’t about to....”
    Sylvie took a long drink of iced tea and wondered if anyone in the restaurant would notice if she yawned.
    Silly idea.
    There was hardly anyone left in the restaurant, other than herself, Max, and Juliette. An elderly couple sat in the far corner, and on the other side of the room a man sat alone eating his dinner. Altogether that made six customers. Sylvie had counted two different people who apparently took turns at the cash register, waiting for any or all of the six to pay their bill.
    “...it was touch-and-go until Sylvie got home. But then she....”
    Sylvie stifled the yawn and regarded Max with a mixture of grudging respect and growing irritation. By rights he should be yawning. He deserved to be bored. It was his fault that Juliette kept talking.
    And talking.
    And talking.
    There was no doubt in Sylvie’s mind that Max was encouraging her sister’s embarrassing recital of long-dead adventures, or rather misadventures , depending on one’s point of view.
    Setting her glass on the table, Sylvie was glad, at least, that the food hadn’t matched the dinner conversation.
    The restaurant was neat, somewhat cozy, if not busy. But then, most people ate dinner earlier. With a glance at her watch Sylvie reached for her glass again.
    “...and then, my date – I’ve forgotten his name, but he was the shortest player on the basketball team. At least, he was short then, he might be taller now. Some guys grow taller after high school, you know. Well, anyway, my date had brought a bottle of vodka. Heaven knows where he got it. And since Sylvie was playing chaperone that night, she....”
    Juliette was on a roll, it seemed, and Max was listening attentively to every word, although his eyes were often on Sylvie. He’d been flirting with her that way all evening. It was a subtle and, for the most part, silent courtship, but Sylvie recognized his attempts to coax her smile, to capture her gaze with his own, to entice her to play the game.
    She just couldn’t seem to get across the message that he was wasting his time.
    With arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders resting against the chair back, his posture was one of easy confidence. Or maybe lazy would be a more appropriate adjective. Even indolent would work, although Sylvie admitted that her assessment was not objective.
    That bothered her because she usually was objective when it came to men. Even when she was strongly attracted to a man, she was careful to keep her perspective.
    But with Max she hadn’t been able to get a grip on what that perspective should be. And that was an unfamiliar feeling and a very unsettling realization, one she didn’t much like.
    She absently traced a rivulet down the side of her water glass, analyzing the reason for Max’s unmistakable interest in her and her lack of indifference about it. But the logic, if there was any logic involved, eluded her and faded into the sunny vivaciousness of Juliette’s voice.
    “...but since Sylvie Anne had taken a first-aid class, there was no reason to panic. Which turned out to be a good thing, because no sooner had....”
    Juliette’s voice