Free On Sunset Beach by Mariah Stewart Page B

to get a closer look at that painting.” Embarrassed by how she must have looked, she needed a moment before she found her voice.
    “Just go on over and look.” He gestured to the space behind the desk.
    “I tried that and got my hand slapped.” Carly lowered her voice. “ ‘Guests aren’t permitted behind the reception desk. It’s house rules.’ ”
    Carly supposed his smile must have dazzled the desk clerk as much as it dazzled her, because before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, the painting in his hands.
    “I’ll put it right back. Promise,” he hastily told the desk clerk. “We won’t move from this spot, right?”
    “Right.” Carly nodded.
    He held the painting at his chest level. “How’s this?”
    “It’s … thank you.” She moved toward the painting to study the colors, the brushstrokes, the mood. Definitely one of Carolina’s late oils, she told herself. For a moment, she forgot everything except the canvas—even the man who held it for her.
    “It’s the inn,” Carly heard him say, “seen from the front.”
    “I wouldn’t have recognized it. I’ve only seen the back of the building,” she said. “Are the columns still there?”
    “Sure. The columns, the porch, the balcony—nothing’s changed, architecturally speaking—in about two hundred years.”
    “That’s remarkable.” Carly was engrossed in the painting, but felt obligated to comment. To ignore him would have been rude, especially after he’d made it possible for her to see the painting up close.
    “It looks like a storm’s moving in, doesn’t it?” He peered over the top of the frame.
    Carly nodded. “The water’s churned up—see how it’s swirling around the dock there? And how she—the artist—used all these shades of gray in both the sky and the water?”
Gray like your eyes
, she could have added, but she’d cut her tongue out before she said something that sounded so intimate to a stranger.
    “I’m picking up some anxious vibes from …” He turned with the painting in his arms to the woman behind the desk and read from her name tag. “Marjorie.So I’d better hang this back here before she gets upset.”
    He flashed his smile again—he had the sexiest mouth—and Marjorie merely stepped aside to permit him to return the painting to its place.
    “Did you see whatever it was you were looking for?” He came back around the desk and stood in front of Carly, his hands on his hips, his gaze on her face.
    “I did, thank you so much.” Carly’s heart thumped inside her chest under his scrutiny. She wished he’d stop looking at her.
    “How ’bout a refill on that wine?” He gestured toward the empty glass in her hands.
    “Oh. I’m good. But thanks …”
    She started to walk away, and he fell in step with her.
    “Maybe you should take a look at the front of the inn,” he suggested. “See those columns and the balcony for yourself.”
    Having just seen Carolina’s interpretation of the inn, she found the idea appealing.
    “I think I will, thanks. And thanks for the painting.” Carly shook her head. “I’d never have had the nerve to grab that off the wall the way you did. I’m surprised she let you get that close.”
    “Must be my charm,” he said drily.
    “Do you know which way is the front?” Carly stopped in the middle of the room.
    “It’s this way.” He gestured toward the room where the party was being held. “Through the double doors …”
    He held the doors for her, and lightly touched her arm when they encountered a small crowd walking intheir direction. Her skin tingled under his fingertips and she thought he must have felt it, too, because he instantly pulled his hand away.
    “Hey, people are looking for you.” Someone called to him as they neared the party.
    “The door right ahead there goes out to the front of the building,” Carly heard him say just before he suddenly turned and vanished into the party crowd. “Enjoy the rest of the