Page 39 of Blame it on the Kiss
“Hmm…” She tapped her fingers to her mouth. A mouth he could tell she tried to keep from being affected by his compliment. “Let’s see how our luck goes and then I’ll let you know.”
“I’m already the luckiest guy here.”
“Bryce.”
He really got off on the sexy-sweet way she said his name, a touch of annoyance layered at the tail end, like a little emphasis on the “ssss” would scare him off. It should. But somehow he found himself walking a tightrope without a net and rather than worry about falling, a buzz ran through his veins. “Yeah?”
“You need to stop. This is work. I have to stay focused and I can’t do that when you say nice things to me.”
“Got it. I’ll stay quiet, rely on head nods, the occasional hand gesture, and let you do your thing.”
“Thank you.”
Every person they met on the conference room floor of the convention center fell in instant like with Honor, making it easy for Bryce to stand back and watch. Her warmth and positive energy charmed men and women alike. She treated everyone like an old friend whether they had something of interest or not. A couple of the dealers had sold to her before and one of them had a piece of Roseville Bryce wanted.
He made eye contact with Honor and nodded to let her know his interest. His mom had over two dozen pieces, but he didn’t recognize the design on this particular pot.
She picked up the Roseville. “This pattern is called Normandy. It was introduced in 1928 and its Italianate design features knots of vines, berries, and leaves on a textured background.” She ran her hands over the pot, and her teacher voice had him in need ofa lotof lessons that had nothing to do with antiques. “This was a short lived line so there aren’t a lot of pieces. It’s in excellent condition with only minor discoloration to the inside.” She handed it to Bryce. “How much?” she asked the dealer.
“For you? Two hundred sixty-five,” the older man answered.
“Do you mind if I talk to my client in private for a moment?” The man gave a nod and stepped away. “What do you think?” She smoothed her fingers over a vine on the piece. Their hands brushed and their eyes immediately met.
“I like it, but you’re the expert.”
Her face lit up. “It’s a fair price and from what you told me of your mom’s collection, I think this will be a great addition.”
“Sold.”
She clapped her hands together before carefully taking the pot from him and giving it to the dealer to wrap up. “That was fun,” she whispered.
Bryce wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her to his side. “It was.”
Her body relaxed under his hold. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Mind if we look around a little longer? I’d like to buy one or two things for the store while we’re here.”
“Sure.” He didn’t want the comfortable vibe they’d struck to end just yet.
She pulled back and like so many times before, her smiling eyes met his and he couldn’t look away. She slayed him with the undisguised emotion he’d learned she didn’t give away easily. Some people wore their hearts on their sleeves, but not Honor. She wore hers in the silver blue depths staring back at him.
Sometime later while driving away from the show, he slowed when he caught sight of a tattoo parlor. Without thought, he pulled over and parked in front of the shop.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her attention out the windshield.
“Getting a tattoo.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah. You’re welcome to get one, too, if you want. No pressure, though.”
She gave a tiny, dubious shake of her head. She wasn’t fooled. “How long have you wanted a tattoo?”
“What makes you think I don’t already have one?”
“You’re about as clean cut as they come, Bryce Bishop. And I’ve seen you…” She clamped her mouth shut.
He turned to face her more fully. “Almost naked?”
“Yes. So unless you’ve got your mama’s face stamped to your butt cheek, I’m betting there’s no ink to be found.”
