That Special Smile/Whittenburg Read online

  There was more to it than that.

  He raised his hand in answer to Juliette’s wave; then his eyes sought Sylvie and watched her carry a sack of groceries toward the house.

  Sylvie Anne.

  Max turned all three syllables over in his mind. An interesting name, an intriguing woman.

  Not such a bad way to begin the weekend, after all, he thought with a smile as he turned and went inside.

  Chapter Two

  “Didn’t I tell you, Sylvie? Isn’t he absolutely...?” The sentence dwindled into an optional ending, as Juliette’s sentences so often did.

  From a ladder-back chair beside the kitchen table Sylvie watched her sister put groceries into cupboards and refrigerator.

  “I couldn’t believe it when I found out he lived next door.” With a shake of her short blond curls Juliette lifted the carton of milk and held it against her lavender T-shirt as she balanced eggs, cheese, bacon, and a can of ready-made biscuits in her arms. “Honestly, who would have thought I could be so lucky?”

  “The thought certainly never entered my mind,” Sylvie said dryly. “But then I know what terrible luck you’ve always enjoyed when it comes to men.”

  Juliette crinkled her nose and then giggled with her usual irrepressible delight. “And I always do enjoy it.”

  It was no less than the truth, and Sylvie had to smile. She sometimes wondered if her sister had any idea that thousands of women went days, even weeks, at a time without meeting any interesting men.

  “But this time….” Juliette paused for an instant while she carefully added a small container of taco dip to her cache. “Why the chances of moving next door to a man as good-looking as Max must be a million to one.” She turned and took two steps to the refrigerator door, which Sylvie rose to open for her. “My God, Sylvie, he’s even single!”

  “Which should have been your first clue, Juliette.” Sylvie moved back to the table in the center of her sister’s small red-and-white kitchen. She surveyed the remaining groceries and the cabinets, trying to match one with the other. “No man reaches the age of thirty-five single, unattached, and self-supporting, without either intending to continue in that state or being unable to persuade some unsuspecting female into helping him change it.” She looked dubiously at a jar of ready-to-serve gravy before tucking it into the cabinet above the sink. Out of sight, out of mind. “And from my limited observation,” she continued. “I don’t think your neighbor could charm his way out of a rain barrel.”

  Juliette straightened and stepped back to let the refrigerator door close. “Well, Max certainly made an impression on you, didn’t he? What on earth did he do?”

  “He didn’t do anything. I just didn’t care for his casual attitude.”

  Bracing a hand against the counter top, Juliette tilted her head to one side and her blue eyes became mildly appraising. “His attitude about what?”

  Sylvie stood on tiptoe to push a package onto the top shell. “Oh, his clothing, for one.”

  “I guess that means he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie,” Juliette replied with a touch of sarcasm. “Sylvie, you have to stop believing that real men always wear pinstripes!”

  Sylvie’s frown came from years of experience in dealing with a sassy younger sister. “I happen to like the way a man looks in a suit, pinstripe or plain, as long as it’s a great fabric. It’s my personal preference and has nothing to do with your neighbor, who answered his door wearing terrycloth.”

  Juliette’s mouth dropped open in surprise and she took a step toward the table. “You saw Max McConnell in a robe?”

  “No, he was wearing a towel.” The memory flashed unbidden through her mind and only served to renew her opinion. Restless beneath her sister’s assessing stare, Sylvie began putting away the remaining groceries. “You bought enough food, Juliette. Is this a normal restocking of shelves or are we preparing for winter?”

  “I just realized this morning that the cupboards were getting bare and I didn’t know if you’d be hungry when you got here, so I ran to the store,” Juliette said in a soft, absentminded way.

  Sylvie knew the subject of terrycloth was not forgotten, and she made a stab at redirecting the conversation. “You could have waited for me. I called you from Fayetteville as soon as the commuter plane landed and told you I was renting the first available car. It’s only an hour-and-a-half drive. Did you think I was going to get lost along the way?”

  Juliette sat in the chair Sylvie had vacated and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You’re awfully touchy. But I suppose the sight of Max McConnell in a towel would upset my equilibrium too.” Her hesitation was just long enough to accommodate an exasperating grin. “Was it a very big towel, Sylvie?”

  “Big enough. And I’m sure any touchiness on my part can be attributed to yesterday’s flight from Boston, an overnight stay in Little Rock, and this morning’s flight – and I use the term loosely – to Fayetteville.” Smoothing her hair with a fingertip, Sylvie anchored the strands behind her ear and adjusted her glasses. “I don’t think I’ve ever flown quite so close to the ground. Either the pilot was nearsighted or he’s moonlighting as a crop duster.”

  “But you’re here.” Juliette kicked off a shoe and wiggled her toes. “And I am glad. Do you know how long it’s been since we had more than a few days at a time to spend together? Even last Christmas at Dad’s, we had less than a week to catch up on everything.”

  Sylvie laughed. “And we had to repeat every other word. I don’t understand why Dad won’t wear his hearing aids.”

  “Probably for the same reason you won’t wear your contact lenses. You’re both so vain.”

  She was not vain, Sylvie thought. The contacts were just too much trouble, that’s all. But she wasn’t about to argue that point. “So, how soon do I get the grand tour of your dress shop?”

  “As soon as you get the groceries put away.” Juliette’s smile was teasing and eager. “Wait until you see it, Syl. Hannah Lee House has the most wonderful Victorian architecture. And I got such a good buy. Of course, even with the money I inherited from Mother, I wouldn’t have had enough if you hadn’t agreed to invest.”

  “I’m just glad you asked.” It wasn’t a total lie, Sylvie assured her conscience. She truly hadn’t minded giving her sister the financial assistance. It was the time-and-effort commitment she had made –

  admittedly of her own free will – that bothered her. Juliette had never been good with commitments of any kind, and Sylvie had done more than her fair share of taking on the responsibility in the past. Yet, despite that knowledge, she had agreed not only to help finance this latest venture, but volunteered to spend six months helping to get it organized.

  To be fair, she had been looking for an excuse to get away from the office, anyway. The insurance investigation business had lost its appeal lately. Max’s suggestion that her heart needed space for adjustment wasn’t accurate, but Sylvie knew that something had occurred to strip the challenge from her work.

  She didn’t know why she was surprised. It was a familiar pattern in her life. The restlessness that led her into one career or area of interest eventually always led her into another.

  So here she was in Eureka Springs, next door to her sister’s new Romeo and listening to Juliette talk…endlessly.

  Why hadn’t her yen for new surroundings taken her to Waikiki or the south of France?

  But she knew the answer.

  It was because, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t say no to her little sister.

  It wasn’t, Sylvie knew, a problem singular to her; everyone had trouble denying Juliette anything.

  From the moment of her birth on a perfect spring morning, Juliette had moved through life blissfully unaware that the world hadn’t been created solely for her delight.

  She wasn’t spoiled.

  Well, not much, anyway.

  Sylvie had seen personally to that. Juliette was simply optimistic that no matter what happened, somehow, some way, everythi
ng would turn out right.

  And, inexplicably, everything always did.

  The dress shop would be no different.

  “... and upstairs there’s a little alcove that will be perfect for....”

  The words were an enthusiastic accompaniment to her thoughts, and Sylvie let her lips curve with affection. Once someone had asked her if she was jealous of her sister’s baby doll cuteness and perpetual charm, but Sylvie had been amazed at the question.

  Perhaps it was because she’d been older, an awkward but mature seven, when Juliette was born, that Sylvie had bypassed the usual feelings of sibling rivalry. Or perhaps it was because their mother had died when they were very young that the girls had formed a closer bond than most sisters. Or perhaps, Sylvie thought now, she had long ago simply accepted her role as guardian angel to Juliette’s free spirit.

  There had been times – there still were occasions even now – when she resented the mere fact of not being an only child, but those times were infrequent and inconsequential. Probably because they had vastly different opinions on everything from men to the latest diet craze.

  And, too, their life goals had always been poles apart. Sylvie was achievement-oriented. She could list dozens of accomplishments and skills she had mastered. Juliette, on the other hand, expended her energies on enjoying life and all that it offered.

  And life, in apparent appreciation, rewarded her with love.

  Everyone loved Juliette.

  Despite minor sibling frustrations, Sylvie was no exception.

  “...and Mr. Erikson. He’s the man who owned the house and did most of the renovation. But he got sick, you know, and couldn’t complete the work...and then he died. But luckily he signed the papers first. Well, not luckily for him, of course, but it is lucky I decided to buy the house before....”

  With a nod of unnecessary encouragement Sylvie continued listening, vaguely, to the story she had heard many times over the past few months. Lucky she had unlimited calls and texts on her cell phone.

  She wondered if Max McConnell was completely over the moon in love with her sister yet. He certainly hadn’t acted as if he were besotted.

  But then, sooner or later, men like Max always fell hard for Juliette.

  Pressing back against the kitchen counter, Sylvie decided she knew her sister well enough to justify a niggling worry. With a tiny frown she waited for Juliette to break for breath. “Are you serious about Max, Jules?”

  “Serious?” Her forehead puckered in confusion as Juliette made an obvious effort to assimilate the change of conversational topic. “In what way?”

  “How many ways are there?”

  “Well, there’s emotionally serious and there’s physically serious and then there’s....” Twin dimples made a mischievous interruption. “But when it comes to Max, I don’t think we need to go any further, do you?”

  Sylvie felt another sigh threatening. “Are you in love with the man or not?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m in love with him...exactly.”

  “Well, what, exactly, would you say? Are you sleeping with him?”

  “Only in my most secret fantasies.” Juliette sighed dramatically, even as her mouth formed an impish smile. “You’ve only been in town a couple of hours and already you’ve seen more of him than I have.”

  “That certainly isn’t the impression you’ve given me.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want you to think life in Eureka Springs was dull.”

  Sylvie slid her glasses to the end of her nose and observed her sister with a slightly unfocused gaze. She was quickly remembering how exasperating Juliette could be. “Let’s go see our investment, shall we?”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me how he looked without his clothes?”

  “I can’t tell you something I don’t know.” She pushed the tortoiseshell frames back into place and began to fold the empty grocery sacks. “After all, he was decently covered.”

  Juliette released an appealing giggle. “Decently covered? Oh, come on, Sylvie Anne, why not admit that you were indecently impressed?”

  At that point Sylvie knew there was no future in stating her very definite opinion. Juliette had always been able to argue common logic down to a frazzle. “All right,” Sylvie conceded in exchange for peace. “Your next-door neighbor is an attractive man.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He isn’t my type.”

  “How do you know? You just met him.”

  “I just know, Juliette. Besides, I thought he was your latest romance.”

  With a tiny shrug Juliette slid her foot back inside her shoe. “Actually, he hasn’t seemed all that interested in me. Max has been very nice and we’ve gone to dinner a few times, but....”

  As Juliette rose, Sylvie held out the sacks she’d folded and told herself she wouldn’t ask because she didn’t want to know. But the question came of its own volition, with only minimal assistance from her. “But what?”

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.” Juliette took the sacks and dropped them into the trash. “There’s just something not quite.... Max and I don’t seem to be on the same level of communication.”

  Which Sylvie could easily understand. At times it was impossible to know what level of communication Juliette was on. “I can’t believe he doesn’t have a few secret fantasies himself. I’m sure he’ll come around,” she said in reassurance, although it was against her better judgment. “I’ve never known a man who didn’t come around with you.”

  Juliette wrinkled her nose in disagreement. “I don’t think so. Max just doesn’t have a...a special smile for me.” She offered the information in a cheerful voice. “And don’t ask me to explain, because I can’t. I just know. So if you’re interested in Max, he’s all yours.”

  “Very generous, Juliette. But I’m sure we’ll all be happier if you and I stay on our side of the property line and Max stays on his.”

  “I can’t promise that.” The dimples made a fleeting reappearance. “What will we do when we run out of eggs or coffee or something? Max is the only neighbor I can borrow from.”

  Sylvie slid her hands into the side pockets of her dress and took a purposeful step toward the door.

  “From now on we’ll make sure we don’t run out of anything.”

  “Easy for you to say, Sylvie Anne. I intend to keep borrowing from Max until I get to see him in a towel.”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t that great.” Retrieving her purse from the credenza in the front hall, Sylvie opened the door and found herself face to face with rebuttal.

  Max stood there, his hand poised to knock, his mouth slanting slowly into a smile. He was still wearing the plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans of earlier, but he had shaved the morning shadow from his jaw.

  And he was drop-dead gorgeous.

  Her heart unaccountably skipped a beat, and then another, before her gaze fell to his feet. At least, she thought, he had put on a pair of shoes. Although she hesitated to classify the scuffed sneakers as shoes.

  “Hello,” he said, and then, “Oh, are you leaving?”

  “Yes,” she stated flatly, banning from her mind the recognition that he was truly a handsome specimen and a fine example of the male of the species. Not that this was an appropriate time to notice that.

  “Hi, Max,” Juliette called from a few steps behind Sylvie. “Need to borrow something?”

  “Just the pleasure of your company.” His blue eyes tossed a casual challenge to Sylvie. “And your sister’s, of course.”

  Of course. Sylvie channeled her sudden irritation into a regretful smile. “Well, as I said,” she began, “we’re leaving.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Juliette moved to share the doorway with Sylvie. “We’re open to all offers.”

  “I thought we might have dinner tonight. Since this is Sylvie Anne’s first day in town, we ought to have a bit of a celebration.”

  Sylvie raised her eyebrows. “We? That’s a vague pronoun, Max.”

&nb
sp; “Really? I thought it was pretty clear. We, as in the three of us, are going to have dinner together.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, but….”

  “What time?”

  “Juliette.” Sylvie tightened the corners of her smile and shot her sister a warning look. “Don’t you remember? We, as in just the two of us, planned to have a nice, quiet evening together and catch up on everything?”

  Juliette’s response was a melodic laugh. “Are you kidding? We’ve got six months of quiet evenings and TV dinners ahead of us. How often are we going to get an invitation like this?” Her eager grin was exclusively for Max.

  Sylvie didn’t dare mention that she had no intention of eating frozen dinners at any time during the next six months. If Max found out she could cook, he’d probably invite himself to share the pleasure of their company for the next one hundred and eighty days. She sighed in momentary defeat and silently started planning an evening headache. “Dinner out sounds lovely, Max. What time should we be ready?”

  The curve of his lips was exclusively for her, and she returned it with a somewhat bewildered frown.

  “Seven, give or take an hour. I’d be more definite, Sylvie Anne, but I’ve been out with your sister before.”

  “That isn’t nice, Max,” Juliette said easily. “But I’ll forgive you this once. We’re on our way to Hannah Lee House. You want to come along?”

  Sylvie bit her tongue to keep from voicing her objection. She didn’t want to sound petty, even though she felt she had every reason to feel that way.

  “Another time, Julie.” Max took a step back. “There are some things I have to do at my store this afternoon. You can tell me all about your restored bargain again when I see you tonight.” In one smooth glance he shared his teasing grin with Sylvie and made her wish for the warm sunshine of a tropical island somewhere on the other side of the world. “And you can tell me what you think of Julie’s newest project, Sylvie Anne.”

  “With great pleasure,” she replied, her mind already composing a few choice phrases. “I’ll look forward to it.”