Free Heart of the Hunter by Bj James Page B

meant to intimidate the younger, smaller upstart.
    Jeb’s initial inclination was to step in, but something in the look of Nicole held him back. Settling back against a column, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed, discovering he needn’t have worried.
    â€œI’m not being ridiculous, and I’m not being stubborn.” Nicole was undaunted, her pleasant attitude unchanged. “I’m keeping a promise.”
    â€œTo whom?”
    â€œTo Ashley, Mrs. Atherton,” Annabelle interjected from her desk, her black eyes burning into the woman like lasers.
    â€œNo one asked you, Annabelle.” Mrs. Atherton sent her a scathing look meant to remind an underling of her place.
    â€œPerhaps you didn’t ask Annabelle, but what she says is true. My agreement and my promise to Ashley in return for the privilege of displaying his paintings was that they wouldn’t be sold.”
    â€œThe man’s an idiot. He wouldn’t know if you sold one, or two or the whole lot of them. A promise to Ashley means no more than a promise to a stray dog.”
    â€œAshley is not a stray, Mrs. Atherton.” Twin wings of color swept across Nicole’s cheeks as her face paled. The shaking of her hand was stilled by a convulsive tightening of her fingers over a gold clad fountain pen.
    The grande dame of Charleston didn’t seem to notice, but Jeb did, as the foolish woman waded deeper into the fray. “He lives on the street, Nicole, that’s virtually the same.”
    â€œHe might wander the streets, but he doesn’t live on them. He has a house, not a mansion like yours, but functional. And he has a job.”
    â€œShining shoes in a hotel?”
    â€œIt’s honest work that meets his needs. And—” warning that there was more, was given by only the slightest force in Nicole’s voice “—just because he isn’t like you, or anyone else in Charleston, doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. But if he were, why would you include the work of an idiot you so despise in your hallowed collection?”
    â€œNicole!” The pinched, elderly face grew even more autocratic. “You needn’t be rude.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Nicole agreed. “It’s the last thing I need.” Crossing to Annabelle’s desk, she laid the pen on a colorful blotter. Her breasts rose in a long, deep breath before she turned back to her obstinate customer. “Ashley’s paintings are not for sale, Mrs. Atherton, that precludes the need for more discussion. Now, if you will excuse me, we close in ten minutes and I have things to do.”
    â€œI will not excuse you, Nicole, I—”
    â€œNicky, darling,” Jeb said softly as he pushed away from the column and moved toward the desk. He’d heard enough, and more. He was tired of the woman’s arrogance, and amazed she didn’t see the stony look in eyes as cold as green ice. “Have you forgotten?”
    â€œForgotten?” Nicole turned to him, a flash of surprise on her face. Engrossed as she’d been with her contest of will with Mrs. Atherton, she had no idea he had come to the gallery and even less what she might have forgotten. “I’m sorry, I don’t...”
    â€œAhh, sweetheart.” He folded his palms about her cheeks. As surprise ascended to shock, he brushed her mouth with his, lightly, but with a lingering completeness. With unmistakable reluctance he moved away, accusing tenderly, “You forgot our date.”
    â€œOur date?” Nicole touched her lips with an unsteady hand. Amid the sudden tumult of every nerve, she realized she sounded like a parrot, but at just this particular moment, she couldn’t quite get her jangled thoughts in order. “What date?”
    â€œOhmigosh!” Annabelle slapped her forehead with an open hand. “I’m the one who forgot, Jeb. I forgot to tell Nicole you called. She has no idea