Secretly Smitten (4 page)

“Looks like junk to me.” It did too. The antique craze wasn’t something he understood, let alone was interested in. Why someone would want to dig through dusty old boxes and trunks was beyond him. Old furniture hulked in the shadows, and he had to step over several rolled-up rugs. “Where do you want to start?”

“There’s an interesting piece,” she said, pointing to a leather trunk under the window. “The trunk alone is beautiful. You should keep it for Sophia’s mementos.”

“Yeah, Daddy, I want it!” Sophia piped up. She had a doll clutched under her arm and stared around the attic as if some monster were about to pop out.

He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’s just an old trunk,” he said. “It looks kind of ratty to me.”

Tess knelt in front of it. “The leather is worn, but that gives it character. And the brass will polish right up. It’s worth a lot of money.”

He opened his mouth to offer it to her, then closed it again. The last thing he wanted was to run her off on her first visit. “Here, let me open it for you,” he said when her struggles failed to lift the lid.

He knelt beside her with Sophia peering over his shoulder. Was that scent of bread from Tess’s hair? He leaned in a little closer and sniffed. The aroma made his mouth water. The lid resisted his struggles as well, and he peered at the latch. “I think it’s locked.”

She slumped back on her heels. “I think we’re thwarted unless you don’t mind breaking the lock.”

“There’s a big ring of old keys on a hook by the stairs. Maybe it’s on there.” He rose and retrieved them. The ring of keys was heavy in his hand and smelled of old metal. The assortment varied from skeleton keys to old house keys.

Tess and Sophia came to stand by him as he flipped through them. “The trunk key will be smaller and probably silver colored,” she said.

“How do you know so much about trunks?” He held up a key and walked back to the trunk with Sophia on his heels.

“My grandmother loves antiques. Her house is full of them. She gave each of us girls a trunk for our eighteenth birthday. Mine is smaller than this and not as fancy, but most trunks open the same way.”

“Let me, Daddy.” Sophia’s small hand closed over the key.

He let her take it and helped her guide it into the keyhole. When it clicked, he lifted the lid with ease. The scent of old clothing rose to his nose when he touched the stack of brightly colored fabric inside the trunk. “Nothing much here.”

“Fuzzy dice!” Tess swooped past him to lift out a large set of black-and-white dice. “I’ve seen pictures of these. They used to hang a set from the rearview mirror.”

Her elation struck him as funny, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

She twirled the dice. “They’re so cute.” She handed them to Sophia and began to riffle through the contents again. “What else is in here? Ooh, look, there’re a bunch of old records. And a Betty Boop cookie tin.” She glanced up at him. “Grandma said David called her his Betty Boop. I wonder if she brought him homemade cookies in this tin.”

“It might be why he kept it. Betty Boop was the Marilyn Monroe of her era, so your grandma must have been really beautiful to him.”

She dived in again. “The records are heavy.”

“Let me get them.” His arm brushed hers as he bent over and lifted the heavy stack of old records. “The Everly Brothers, Elvis, Johnny Horton, Chuck Berry. Someone was collecting all the popular albums of the day.”

He looked in again and saw something furry in the bottom of the trunk. “A coonskin cap! My dad had one of these. It belonged to my grandpa.”

Her eyes were sparkling. “And you said this stuff was boring.”

Tess had a way of lighting up a room with enthusiasm and joy. There was always a smile on her face, and he’d never seen her discouraged or upset. He’d seen the bookstore employees send complaining customers her way, and she always seemed able to calm them and send them home satisfied. That took a special gift. He liked her soft curves and the sheen of her hair. He suspected she had no idea how beautiful she was.

“Look at this,” she said.

He realized he’d been staring at her, and her cheeks were pink. The engraved plate she indicated was attached to the inside of the trunk. “‘David Hutchins,’” he said. “So this belonged to him.”

“I bet Grandma
did
bring him cookies in that tin.”

He grinned. “You’re on quite the investigation.”

Her face clouded. “But we don’t know for sure without asking her.”

“Take it and ask her about it. Really, you can have anything up here you want.”

“Thanks.” She looked around. “These things are worth a lot of money, Ryan. You really should get an antique dealer up here.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “Now, what else do you want to look at?”

Even poking through dusty boxes would be fun if she was with him.

The small guest bath was a warm tan. The marble tile was exactly what Tess would have chosen herself if she had unlimited funds and a house this gorgeous. But all it succeeded in doing was making her feel even more inadequate. Not only had Ryan’s first wife been beautiful, but she’d possessed a sense of style Tess could never match.

She washed the dust from her hands and arms and scrubbed a black smudge on her cheek. “You are crazy,” she told her image in the mirror. “Look at yourself. Hair in a ponytail, no makeup. You are the last person Ryan Stevenson would take a second look at.” At least the red top brought out the sheen of her dark hair and lifted a bit of color to her skin.

The towel on the ring was plush tan. She almost let her hands air-dry rather than mar the perfection of the thick terry. But that was silly. She dried her hands, then threw back her shoulders and practiced a smile. Her mother always said that proper carriage could erase five pounds. And if she smiled enough, maybe Ryan would keep his attention on her face.

She found Ryan and Sophia in the living room on beautiful tan leather furniture. A rug that had to cost the earth gleamed with rich shades of blue, gold, and pumpkin atop oak floors. The place was immaculate, with just the right touches of accessories. It made Tess want to run for the comfort of her small cottage with its happily messy rooms.

Ryan’s gaze warmed when he saw her. “Sophia was asking for a story, but I guess I’m not the storyteller she wants.”

“I want
you
to read me a book,” Sophia said. She held up a copy of
Olivia
. “Daddy doesn’t do Olivia’s voice very well. He makes snorting sounds.”

“Well, that’s not right. Olivia is much too genteel to snort.” Tess took the book and sank into the soft cushion beside the little girl. The book was worn with a few chocolate spots. “Ice cream?”

Sophia nodded. “We always eat ice cream at night when we read.”

“Ice cream is good for any time of day,” Tess said. “I think your daddy should hire us to be official ice cream tasters so we can tell him the best flavors to make.”

“It has to be chocolate,” Sophia said. “Anything with chocolate.”

“Like maybe chocolate and avocado?”

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Avocado is for salad.”

“What about chocolate and bacon? Or chocolate and chicken?” Tess asked.

“You’re being silly,” Sophia said reprovingly.

Tess and Ryan both burst out laughing. Warmth spread through her as they sat together almost like a family. Did he feel it too or was it all her imagination?

“I bet you could read this story yourself,” Ryan told his daughter.

Sophia folded her hands across her chest. “I like to listen to Tess.”

“So do I,” Ryan said.

“Well, I’d better read then,” Tess said, turning to the first page of the story.

She plunged into the story and put as much animation and emotion into her reading as possible, though having Ryan watch her was a little disconcerting. By the time the story was over, Sophia’s head was against her daddy’s arm and her eyes were closed. When Tess closed the book, she wasn’t sure what to say. The silence should have been uncomfortable but was more companionable than she’d expected.

She cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I should be going. Thank you for letting me rummage around in the attic.”

“When do you want to come back? There’s a lot we haven’t seen.”

His eagerness to have her back was a desire to get the attic organized, she told herself. It had nothing to do with any desire for a friendship with her. “Tuesday after work?”

“Sounds good to me. How about I provide dinner this time?”

His smile put crinkles around his green eyes. Those eyes. She could dive deep into them and search for the meaning. Men shouldn’t look that good. If she dared, she would lean over and sniff the spicy scent of his cologne. He would smell as good as he looked, no question.

She rose and picked up the cookie tin he’d given her. “You really didn’t like that casserole, did you? Come on ’fess up.”

“Okay, I admit Mexican isn’t my favorite.”

“Why didn’t you say something when I told you what I was bringing?”

“And turn down the only offer of a home-cooked meal I’d had in years? Not happening.” He eased Sophia onto the sofa, then stood to walk her to the door. “I enjoyed the day, Tess.”

They reached the front door and she put her hand on the doorknob. “So did I.” She felt oddly breathless. She pulled open the door and stepped into the fading light of a gorgeous late May day. “Thanks again for the tin.”

“Call me later and let me know if you find out anything about it. I’m curious to know how the Hutchinses got it.” He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a business card case. “Here’s my phone number. My cell too. Call anytime.”

She took the card he held out. “You’re sure?”

“You bet. I want to help you get to the bottom of the mystery. I’m intrigued too.”

Of course, it was all about the mystery. Who wouldn’t be enthralled with something this strange?

CHAPTER FOUR

H
er sisters’ cars were parked in front of the big Victorian house, but Grandma Rose’s big old Caddy was conspicuously absent. Tess had thought they would all be gone by now, with Sunday dinner finished and the mess cleaned up. She found her mother and sisters in the sunroom having coffee and cookies—chocolate chip, her favorite. She set the tin on the table and scooped up a cookie. It was still warm, and she savored the melted chocolate on her tongue. Well, as much as she could, with her mother’s disapproving stare.

Tess had always loved this room with its soft yellows and comfortable furniture. “Where’s Grandma?”

“She stepped out to pick up Aunt Violet. Her car quit on her downtown.” Her mother frowned when Tess reached for another cookie.

Zoe lifted a brow. “Dish! We want the entire scoop. Did he ask you out?”

Tess poured herself a cup of coffee and laced it with cream. “Of course not! I was only there to go through the attic.” She reached for the tin. “Look what I found there.” She held up the tin where it caught the soft afternoon light.

Clare gasped and touched the tin’s embossed figure. “It’s darling! But why did you bring it?”

“That’s the funny thing.” Tess told them where she’d found the tin. “Grandma said David called her his Betty Boop. I wanted to ask her if she took cookies to him. I bet she did, and he kept this as a memento.”