Hot Rocks by Nora Roberts Page A

out.
    She looked over at the sound of the door, pleased that a customer would temporarily take her mind off pork chops and mashed potatoes.
    “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”
    “I think I’ll just look around, if that’s all right. What an interesting place. Yours?”
    “No. The owner’s not in today. Browse all you like. If you have any questions or need any help, just let me know.”
    “I’ll do that.”
    He was wearing a suit nearly the same color as his mustache and the thick, well-cut head of hair. The suit, and subtle stripe of the tie, made her think money. His voice was just clipped enough to have her assuming North.
    Her saleswoman’s instinct told her he wouldn’t mind a little conversation as he wandered. “Are you visiting Angel’s Gap?”
    “I have business in the area.” He smiled, and it deepened the hollows of his cheeks, turned his eyes into a warm blue and made distinguished just a little sexy. “Such a friendly town.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “And so scenic. Good for business, I’d think. I have a shop of my own.” He leaned over to study the display of heirloom jewelry. “Estate jewelry,” he said, tapping the glass. “The buying and selling. Very nice pieces here. Unexpected, really, outside a metropolitan area.”
    “Thank you. Laine’s very particular about what we sell here.”
    “Laine?”
    “Laine Tavish, the owner.”
    “I wonder if I haven’t heard that name. Possibly even met her at one of the auctions. It’s a relatively small pool we swim in.”
    “You might have. If you’re staying in town for a while, you could come back in. She’s usually here.”
    “I’ll be sure to do that. Tell me, do you sell loose stones as well?”
    “Stones?”
    At Jenny’s blank look he angled his head. “I often buy stones—gemstones—to replace ones lost from an antique setting, or to duplicate an estate piece for a client.”
    “Oh. No, we don’t. Of course, the jewelry’s just a small part of our stock.”
    “So I see.” He turned, and those eyes scanned every inch of the main showroom. “An eclectic mix, styles, periods. Does Ms. Tavish do all the buying?”
    “Yes, she does. We’re lucky to have someone like Laine in the Gap. The store’s developed a good reputation, and we’re listed in several guides to the area, and antique and collectible magazines.”
    He wandered off, walking in the direction of a table set with porcelain figurines and small bronzes. “So, she’s not a local then.”
    “You’re not a local in the Gap unless your grandfather was born here. But no, Laine moved here a few years ago.”
    “Tavish, Tavish . . .” He angled back around, narrowing his eyes, stroking his mustache. “Is she a tall, rather lanky woman with very short blond hair? Wears little black glasses?”
    “No, Laine’s a redhead.”
    “Ah well, hardly matters. This is a lovely piece.” He picked up an elegant china cat. “Do you ship?”
    “We certainly do. I’d be happy to . . . Oh, hi, honey,” she said when Vince walked in. “My husband,” she said to the customer with a wink. “I don’t call all the cops honey.”
    “I was heading by, thought I’d stop in to see if Laine was here. Check on her.”
    “No, I don’t think she’s coming in today after all. Got her hands full. Laine’s house was broken into last night,” she said.
    “God, how awful.” The man lifted a hand to the knot of his tie, and the dark blue stone in his pinkie ring winked. “Was anyone hurt?”
    “No, she wasn’t home. Sorry, Vince, this is Mr. . . . I never did get your name.”
    “It’s Alexander, Miles Alexander.” He offered a hand to Vince.
    “Vince Burger. Do you know Laine?”
    “Actually, we were just trying to determine that. I sell estate jewelry and wondered if I’ve met Ms. Tavish along the circuit. I’m sorry to hear about her trouble. I’m very interested in the cat,” he said to Jenny, “but I’m going to be late for my afternoon appointment. I’ll