Sweet Talk. Jackie MerrittЧитать онлайн книгу.
taken her hair. It was still thick and glossy and now it was short and swingy and, Val thought, quite becoming.
She grimaced at her reflection. Her hairdo, or any other woman’s, would never make the Life’s Significant Priorities list. She’d learned what was important and what wasn’t the hard way, and hairstyles were absolutely meaningless in the overall scheme of things.
Val was on her way to the kitchen to let Estelle know that she was feeling good and going over to the clinic when the doorbell chimed again.
She blinked in disbelief. Standing on her stoop was Reed Kingsley with a huge bouquet of flowers and an almost tragic, puppy dog expression on his face.
“Valerie,” he said as he released a long breath, which, apparently, he’d been holding. “I ordered these at Jilly’s to be delivered as soon as possible, drove home, worried myself sick over what happened at MonMart, then rushed back to town to deliver them myself.” He held out the bouquet. “Will you accept these flowers and my heartfelt apology?”
She looked at the flowers, at Reed, at the flowers, at Reed, then turned her face away and wished she had stayed in bed.
“Could I come in for a minute?” he asked, startling her further.
The man was a barnacle, she thought drearily. He had, for some reason of his own, attached himself to her, and she was never going to be free of him. It was a depressing thought, and if there was anything Val didn’t need these days, it was something else to lower her already down-in-the-dumps spirits.
But how could she say, “No, you cannot come in, and I don’t want either your flowers or your apology. Please leave and never darken my door again.” The bottom line was she couldn’t. Reed Kingsley might be the most annoying human being she knew but he was a man to reckon with in Rumor. He was one of the town’s movers and shakers, and she certainly didn’t need enemies in the business community—especially now. Business had slowed during her illness, with people taking their pets to Whitehorn or Billings because their local vet wasn’t available. Next on her to-do agenda was to rebuild her reputation and her client list by putting a back-to-work announcement in the Rumor Mill—and, whether or not she liked it, accepting Reed’s apologetic gesture.
She stepped back and swung the door open; it was silent permission to enter, and she hoped he didn’t take her concession as any form of surrender. She was giving him nothing but a minute or two of her time. She hoped he understood that without her spelling it out in succinct terms.
Reed’s heart pounded. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about entering a woman’s home. He’d always been confident in his innate ability to talk to people, both men and women, and his lack of confidence with Val Fairchild was damn disturbing.
“Uh, maybe you’d like to take these,” he said after she had closed the door. She wouldn’t like to take them; she didn’t want them, but she forced herself to accept the bouquet and say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Val, I’d like to explain what happened today…explain why I did what I did.”
“You already did that. In MonMart’s parking lot.” She saw Estelle peering around the kitchen doorway and held out the flowers. “Estelle, would you please put these in a vase?”
Smiling broadly, the housekeeper walked over and took the flowers from Val. “Oh, they’re lovely. Hello, Reed, how are you?”
“Fine, Estelle, and you?”
“I really can’t complain.”
“And how’s Jim?”
“Well, he has that arthritis, you know. It flares up every so often, but he’s been just fine this fall. Hasn’t this weather been remarkable?”
“Remarkable and a little scary. We’ve experienced the result of a dry winter firsthand, and we sure don’t want a repeat of last summer’s fire.”
“Heavens, no,” Estelle agreed with a small shudder. “We nearly lost our town.”
“We came very close, Estelle.”
Val had to bite her tongue to keep from rudely interrupting this friendly little exchange. Of course Estelle knew Reed Kingsley—everyone knew Reed Kingsley! She was probably the only person within a hundred-mile radius who didn’t want to know him!
Estelle smiled and began easing away. “I’ll put these in water. Nice seeing you, Reed.”
“Nice seeing you, Estelle.” He waited until she was back in the kitchen before he looked at Val again. “They’re a great couple, aren’t they?” he said. “I’m talking about Estelle and Jim, of course.”
“I grasped that all on my own,” Val said dryly. “Imagine that.”
Reed’s face reddened. “I never quite say the right thing to you, do I?” He tried to smile and knew it came off weak. “I think you make me nervous.”
“I doubt if anyone makes you nervous, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Mr. Kingsley? Can’t you bring yourself to call me Reed?”
“Well, I can, of course, but since we hardly know each other…”
“That’s not my fault.”
“Meaning it’s mine? Well, fine. I can live with that.”
“I wasn’t placing blame. But you said we hardly know each other and that’s something I’ve been trying to rectify. We’re not getting very far, though, are we, not when you object to using my first name because we’re not bosom buddies. Val, very few people around here stand on ceremony. There’s very little formality in and around Rumor.” Reed felt his face heating up again. “You already know that, don’t you? You’ve lived here long enough to know everything I do.”
“I doubt if I could ever catch up with you on anything,” she said coolly, hoping he realized that the word anything, in this instance, was a blatant reference to his reputation with women. “Nor, I might add, do I care to try. But since small-town informality seems so crucial to you, I’ll use your first name.”
How long was he going to stand around her foyer with that hopeful look in his eyes? She hadn’t invited him into the living room, offered him a chair or refreshments. She hadn’t done any of the things folks in Rumor did when someone dropped in. Reed didn’t take hints, obviously, and she was trying to avoid overt rudeness, but she was getting very close to it, all the same.
He cleared his throat. “Getting back to that explanation I mentioned…”
“Really, there’s nothing that needs saying. You thought I required rescuing and I didn’t. It was an unfortunate incident. I’m sure we’ll both live it down…eventually.” Reed’s expression turned sickly before her eyes, but she pretended not to notice.
“You really can’t accept my apology, can you?” he said, sounding miserable.
“I could lie and say yes. Would that appease your conscience?” Inwardly she winced, as that remark and question had definitely been rude. But why didn’t he accept her lack of interest and leave?
Reed decided it was time to go. She was a hard, dispassionate woman, impossible to get to know. Why did he keep trying?
“Well, enjoy the flowers,” he said, speaking in a much cooler tone himself. “And you have my promise that if I ever see you looking pale and leaning against shelves of green beans again, I’ll walk right on past.”
Val’s eyes widened in surprise. That was the first thing he’d ever said to her that warranted respect. Apparently her disdain had finally sunk in.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and opened the door for him. He gave her one last look and then hurried out. She shut the door behind him, mumbled, “Finally,” and turned the dead bolt.
The snap of the lock was heard by both of them. It gave