Free Renaissance Man by Unknown

hills above the
    sea.
    „I moved here right after graduating from college. I decided that since I was finally going to have to face the real
    world to some extent, I would make sure I had a pleasant view of it!“
    He chuckled appreciatively. „A picture-postcard town, all right. Did you have a job lined up?“
    „No, but I knew I wanted eventually to open a bookstore. I went to work for Nick Elden….“
    „I thought you two were partners?“
    „A couple of years ago Nick let me buy into his business. He’s taught me so much!“
    Jared looked as if he were digesting that remark carefully. „Does the book shop deal only in rare books?“ he finally
    asked neutrally.
    „No, we’re a very diversified store. New and used and rare. Nick has a genuine flare for finding buyers and sellers
    in the rare-book trade. We’ve found some absolutely unbelievable things for people. A wonderful copy of Samuel
    Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language from 1755 came across my desk just the other day. And I found a first
    edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula for a client who specializes in collecting horror stories. You should see it,“ she added
    with a laugh. „It was bound in bright yellow cloth with blood-red lettering!“
    „That was printed about the turn of the century, wasn’t it?“
    She nodded. „We’ve had some very early Spencer and Milton and a couple of sixteenth-century books of manners.
    Lovely stuff,“ she added with a satisfied sigh.
    „You’re fortunate to have a career which blends with your own personal interests,“ Jared observed quietly, his
    eyes on the road.
    „Don’t you enjoy making money?“ she retorted cheekily.
    „It’s a means to an end.“ He shrugged. „I happen to be reasonably good at it, but I can’t say it gives me any great
    pleasure.“
    „Just allows you to buy the things you want?“ she finished for him.
    „Some of them,“ he admitted with a sidelong glance that said a great deal. „Not all.“
    „Not me,“ Alina verified carefully, lifting her chin with a touch of aggression.
    „No, unfortunately,“ he agreed. „It would make things much simpler if that were the case!“
    Satisfied at having made her position clear, Alina relaxed a little further, taking pleasure in the day and the drive. As
    if a truce had been declared and accepted, the conversation flowed easily between them. As easily as it did between
    old friends, Alina thought at one point, masking her amusement.
    To her surprise they didn’t wind up arguing about Battista and Francesco after all. For some reason the two
    passionate footnotes to history took second place in Alina’s mind to the unexpected interest she found herself taking
    in her modern-day condottiere.
    There were questions she found herself asking which she would never have asked through the mail, little things
    which shouldn’t really have intrigued her in the first place. Her own curiosity was strangely unnerving, but not nearly
    so unnerving as the realization of just how much she did know about him. There were moments when she could almost
    read his mind, and it was those instances which made her wonder just how much she had learned about him through
    his letters. She had, indeed, been reading between the lines!
    He took her home eventually, driving past the lovely old Spanish mission church and winding up the hillside
    beyond to where her condominium was perched.
    „I’ll be back in a couple of hours,“ he said, leaving her at the door late that afternoon. „Time enough?“
    „To dress for dinner? Yes.“ She watched him go, taking a subconscious pleasure in the smooth coordination of his
    movements as he slid into the car. Five hundred years ago he would have mounted a horse or climbed into a carriage
    with just that degree of ease and assurance. A vital, healthy, gracefully strong man. For the first time she allowed
    herself to wonder about his love life. Almost at once she backed away from the issue. A man like that would