Free Words of Seduction by Dara Girard

widened her eyes. “I didn’t say—”
    He loosened his tie. “You didn’t have to say anything. I can read your eyes.” He leaned toward her. “And your eyes don’t lie.” He held her gaze. “How about lunch tomorrow?”
    “Then you’ll leave me alone?”
    “I thought you didn’t like promises.”
    She briefly closed her eyes and let out a fierce sigh. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Great. I’ll pick you up.”
    Suzanne watched him leave, his cocky walk making it clear that the wolf was on the prowl, but she was determined that she wouldn’t be his prey.
    “Goodness, he’s even better from this angle,” Della said behind her.
    “And he knows it,” Suzanne grumbled. “I’m just glad that’s all over. The house is sold.” She remembered the check in her purse, said goodbye to Della and raced to her car. Once inside, she pulled out her cell phone and called their family lawyer, Mrs. Maloney, and told her about the house sale.
    “At least that’s something,” she said.
    Suzanne paused, stunned by her lack of enthusiasm. “What do you mean ‘that’s something’? I thought you wanted me to sell the house.”
    “I did, but that will only cover the mortgages. Let me remind you of your father’s other debts,” Mrs. Maloney said and started to read a list. By the tenth item Suzanne groaned and shut her eyes.
    “Okay,” she said, resigned. “I get it. I’m not out of the woods yet.”
    “Honey, you’re not even out of the forest.”
    She rubbed her temple. “What am I going to do?”
    “I’ve been to the house. You have some very nice furnishings and I know an antiques dealer who could get them sold at an excellent price.”
    “An auction?” Suzanne said, appalled. “I can’t have the town know that I’m selling my family heirlooms.”
    “We’ll conduct a discreet auction. It will be out of town. Just you leave things to me. I’ll have my man stop by tomorrow.”
    “Right,” Suzanne said in a flat voice. “Could he come in the morning? I have a lunch—uh…meeting.”
    “Say ten?”
    “That will work. Thank you.”
    “Suzanne, things will work out.”
    “Hmm,” she said, wanting to believe her.
    At home Suzanne looked at all her family possessions with a sinking sensation that threatened to choke her. There was the decorative, ornate writing desk in her father’s study that reminded her of the few fun times she spent pretending to be her father’s secretary when she was a child. In the hallway sat an antique Chinese vase, which was used as an umbrella stand. But the one item she knew she would miss the most was the large mahogany coatrack her great-great-grandfather had made by hand. It was considered a family heirloom and Suzanne felt a surge of sadness, knowing that now money had become more important than memories. Her heart ached and she felt a lump in her throat, but she was determined not to cry.
    The next day Suzanne flipped through the few items in her closet wondering what she should wear for her meeting with Rick. She’d given most of her wardrobe to a consignment shop for money. She finally selected a light blue silk pantsuit. She ate a quick breakfast, but barely had a chance to finish when she heard the antiques dealer drive up. She dumped her dishes in the sink and ran to the front door. She opened it before he could knock.
    He was a short man with long blond hair and a mustache. They briefly chatted, and then he went quickly through several rooms, ending in the livingroom. She silently watched him and after a few minutes he shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. Rand,” he said as they stood in the foyer.
    “Why?”
    “They’re all fakes.”
    She laughed, certain he was joking. “They can’t be.”
    His mustache twitched with dismay. “They are. Here, let me show you.” He took the two battered umbrellas out of the Chinese vase and turned it upside down.
    “Do you see what is written here?” He beckoned for Suzanne to