Read Online The Next Right Thing (Harlequin Superromance) by Colleen Collins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Colleen Collins
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he said, gesturing to the heavens. “Tourists love that stuff—today she sold two of those little knitted Las Vegas rat-on-string sweaters. Seventy a pop.”
She let that sink in for a moment. “Seventy dollars for a hand-knitted sweater for a Yorkie or Chihuahua?”
“Yeah, and other small-like dogs. Maybe cats, too. Hey, how’s that stray?”
“Trazy’s still there. Thought she’d go home after a day or two.”
“Sorry you can’t bring her here.”
“You’re allergic to cats. No way. I’m going to make an appointment at a vet’s, see if Trazy has one of those chips. Have to at least try and find out who her owners are.” She thought of those little doggie sweaters. “Seventy bucks. That’s more than I’ve ever spent on a sweater for me. ”
“But they’re hand-knitted. Sparkly thread the color of her hair...you know...”
“Champagne.”
“Yeah, champagne. She knits little pictures in them, too. Tiny dice. Martini glasses with olives. Girl dog sweaters have little faces of Marie knitted in them, too. Boy dog sweaters get her brother, what’s his name?”
“Donny.”
“Yeah.”
“She knits the faces of Donny and Marie in them?”
“Tiny faces, but they’re good, y’know. Big toothy smiles an’ everything. That Delilah, she’s talented. Has lots of plans...” He flashed Cammie an expectant look.
“Like what?”
“You’re misdirecting the subject.”
“I think you did.”
“Then I’m going back to the other one. Okay, where was I...? Ah, right... Sounds like you’re bothered he saw you in that outfit, right?”
A rush of heat crawled up her chest as she thought of Marc this afternoon, seeing her in that cover-nothing getup. “Right,” she said quietly.
“Men who like women tend to really like them in outfits like that.”
“Uncle Frankie, he likes women, just not this woman in that way.” She flashed on Marc’s former fiancée Gwen, who liked to call herself “Swagtastic”—gag—and had that hot-bod, bad-girl Cameron Diaz thing going for her. Sometimes her spray-on skirts had been so high and tight, Cammie wondered if she’d accidentally worn her Spanx to work. Especially annoying was the baby talk and the way Gwen’s eyes would get all big and her fake lashes would flutter, and Marc would melt. How could he be so dumb to fall for such a cliché?
A thieving cliché, come to find out. Maybe that sexy act had been just that. An act to gain access to the firm’s money. If only Marc had allowed Cammie to finish her investigation...
“But he liked you, right? In that hotsy-totsy number.”
Took her a moment to realize her uncle was still talking about Marc seeing her at work. “I doubt it. You see, we had a disagreement.”
“In the casino?”
“Outside. On my break. Work stuff.”
“He flew out here to talk about work stuff? You left there over a year ago!”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly reopened them. “I love you, but I don’t think I can talk about this anymore. It’s just—” She swallowed, hard.
He paused, seemingly weighing the scenario. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t know it’d be that uncomfortable, his showing up at the casino and all—”
“No need to apologize.”
“So, wanna ask him over for dinner now that he’s in Vegas?”
“You’re incorrigible. No!”
“He could come over, see you in regular clothes.”
“The answer is still no—”
“I’ll make my famous marinara sauce. Delilah can make a salad with those baby corn on the cobs. You can make your electric limeade. I mean, this stuff alone could make a guy fall in love.”
“He’s not falling—”
“That’s how I met Regina, you know.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “My buddy invited her over for dinner. My bachelor days ended the moment our eyes locked, God rest her soul.” He made the cross, touched his hand to his lips. “Twenty-six wonderful years.”
“You gave her a good life, Uncle Frankie. She had everything she
She let that sink in for a moment. “Seventy dollars for a hand-knitted sweater for a Yorkie or Chihuahua?”
“Yeah, and other small-like dogs. Maybe cats, too. Hey, how’s that stray?”
“Trazy’s still there. Thought she’d go home after a day or two.”
“Sorry you can’t bring her here.”
“You’re allergic to cats. No way. I’m going to make an appointment at a vet’s, see if Trazy has one of those chips. Have to at least try and find out who her owners are.” She thought of those little doggie sweaters. “Seventy bucks. That’s more than I’ve ever spent on a sweater for me. ”
“But they’re hand-knitted. Sparkly thread the color of her hair...you know...”
“Champagne.”
“Yeah, champagne. She knits little pictures in them, too. Tiny dice. Martini glasses with olives. Girl dog sweaters have little faces of Marie knitted in them, too. Boy dog sweaters get her brother, what’s his name?”
“Donny.”
“Yeah.”
“She knits the faces of Donny and Marie in them?”
“Tiny faces, but they’re good, y’know. Big toothy smiles an’ everything. That Delilah, she’s talented. Has lots of plans...” He flashed Cammie an expectant look.
“Like what?”
“You’re misdirecting the subject.”
“I think you did.”
“Then I’m going back to the other one. Okay, where was I...? Ah, right... Sounds like you’re bothered he saw you in that outfit, right?”
A rush of heat crawled up her chest as she thought of Marc this afternoon, seeing her in that cover-nothing getup. “Right,” she said quietly.
“Men who like women tend to really like them in outfits like that.”
“Uncle Frankie, he likes women, just not this woman in that way.” She flashed on Marc’s former fiancée Gwen, who liked to call herself “Swagtastic”—gag—and had that hot-bod, bad-girl Cameron Diaz thing going for her. Sometimes her spray-on skirts had been so high and tight, Cammie wondered if she’d accidentally worn her Spanx to work. Especially annoying was the baby talk and the way Gwen’s eyes would get all big and her fake lashes would flutter, and Marc would melt. How could he be so dumb to fall for such a cliché?
A thieving cliché, come to find out. Maybe that sexy act had been just that. An act to gain access to the firm’s money. If only Marc had allowed Cammie to finish her investigation...
“But he liked you, right? In that hotsy-totsy number.”
Took her a moment to realize her uncle was still talking about Marc seeing her at work. “I doubt it. You see, we had a disagreement.”
“In the casino?”
“Outside. On my break. Work stuff.”
“He flew out here to talk about work stuff? You left there over a year ago!”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly reopened them. “I love you, but I don’t think I can talk about this anymore. It’s just—” She swallowed, hard.
He paused, seemingly weighing the scenario. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t know it’d be that uncomfortable, his showing up at the casino and all—”
“No need to apologize.”
“So, wanna ask him over for dinner now that he’s in Vegas?”
“You’re incorrigible. No!”
“He could come over, see you in regular clothes.”
“The answer is still no—”
“I’ll make my famous marinara sauce. Delilah can make a salad with those baby corn on the cobs. You can make your electric limeade. I mean, this stuff alone could make a guy fall in love.”
“He’s not falling—”
“That’s how I met Regina, you know.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “My buddy invited her over for dinner. My bachelor days ended the moment our eyes locked, God rest her soul.” He made the cross, touched his hand to his lips. “Twenty-six wonderful years.”
“You gave her a good life, Uncle Frankie. She had everything she
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