now swung open before her; revealing as they did a short, petite beauty with wide, emerald green eyes and a spiraling fall of curly ebony hair that extended nearly to her waist; framing a chiseled, flawless face drawn into an angry scowl.
“I assume that you’re the reporter?” she asked, ignoring Joanna’s outstretched hand as she continued, “I am Ariel March, one of the presenting artists at next week’s show. My fiancé and I have talked, and we have opted to forgo the interview. If, however, you would like to come in and see some of our artwork, to take a few photos and take down just a few notes about our planned exhibit, then we’d be pleased to oblige you.”
She gaped outright as Joanna met these words with a smooth round of answering laughter.
“Well if I may say so, Ma’am, you don’t seem pleased about much of anything today,” she told a gaping Ariel, adding as she made a broad gesture in the direction of their opulent surroundings, “If I lived in these digs, I sure would be.”
Ariel made no verbal response, just sniffed sharply as she opened her door to Joanna. Then, after leading her with her head held high through a crisp tiled front room, she directed her to a lovely, eye catching sitting room that boasted an even lovelier and significantly more eye catching centerpiece.
Her mouth fell open as she beheld the walls of pure scarlet brocade that contained this little dream room; as well as the crystalline chandeliers that hung from its vaulted ceiling, and the Victorian style rose print furniture that filled its confines.
And draped most decorative across the plush cushions of a luxurious rose patterned settee was the room’s most striking accent; one who also conveniently doubled as the most gorgeous man she ever had seen.
Boasting a fall of thick ebony hair that fell graceful to his muscular shoulders, the man boasted a pair of dark eyes that seemed to penetrate her psyche; gazing out as they were from a bronzed sculpted face that also boasted carved cheekbones and full, moist lips—which now parted to dazzle her with a stunning white toothed smile.
“Might I be meeting my favorite female journalist?” he asked her, surging upward to take her hand in his and raise it to these same delicious lips for a soft, gentlemanly kiss.
Joanna grinned.
“Barbara Walters? Isn’t she pretty much everyone’s favorite female journalist?” she queried, adding with an awkward shrug, “Well the paper would have sent her over today, but it turns out she’s covering a rummage sale tour currently winding its way through downtown Benington. Barb does love her rummaging, and who can resist free Coney dogs to boot? So ya got me instead.”
Rewarding her good humor with a second resounding kiss, Rafe motioned her to sit beside him on the floral print settee as he told her, “You are Joanna Brighton, indeed. I can tell by that divine sense of humor. And do allow me to introduce myself in return. I’m Rafe Cole.”
“Of course you are. Very nice to meet you,” Joanna returned with a grin, adding as she turned to face a silent Ariel, “Would you like to join Rafe as he shows me samples of your beautiful artwork?”
Meeting her request with a loud, sharp sniff, Ariel turned on her heel and cleared the room in a single smooth flourish; leaving in her wake an uncomfortable silence—one that Joanna broke with the words, “Something I said? Everything I said?”
Rafe chuckled.
“Not at all, Miss,” he told her, reassuring her with a warm smile, “She’s been having a bad day since….”
“1985?” Joanna supplied, adding with an apologetic grin, “I’m sorry, I’m sure she’s just having a bad day. And I must say, she’s very beautiful.”
Rafe shook his head.
“I learn more and more each day just how
“I assume that you’re the reporter?” she asked, ignoring Joanna’s outstretched hand as she continued, “I am Ariel March, one of the presenting artists at next week’s show. My fiancé and I have talked, and we have opted to forgo the interview. If, however, you would like to come in and see some of our artwork, to take a few photos and take down just a few notes about our planned exhibit, then we’d be pleased to oblige you.”
She gaped outright as Joanna met these words with a smooth round of answering laughter.
“Well if I may say so, Ma’am, you don’t seem pleased about much of anything today,” she told a gaping Ariel, adding as she made a broad gesture in the direction of their opulent surroundings, “If I lived in these digs, I sure would be.”
Ariel made no verbal response, just sniffed sharply as she opened her door to Joanna. Then, after leading her with her head held high through a crisp tiled front room, she directed her to a lovely, eye catching sitting room that boasted an even lovelier and significantly more eye catching centerpiece.
Her mouth fell open as she beheld the walls of pure scarlet brocade that contained this little dream room; as well as the crystalline chandeliers that hung from its vaulted ceiling, and the Victorian style rose print furniture that filled its confines.
And draped most decorative across the plush cushions of a luxurious rose patterned settee was the room’s most striking accent; one who also conveniently doubled as the most gorgeous man she ever had seen.
Boasting a fall of thick ebony hair that fell graceful to his muscular shoulders, the man boasted a pair of dark eyes that seemed to penetrate her psyche; gazing out as they were from a bronzed sculpted face that also boasted carved cheekbones and full, moist lips—which now parted to dazzle her with a stunning white toothed smile.
“Might I be meeting my favorite female journalist?” he asked her, surging upward to take her hand in his and raise it to these same delicious lips for a soft, gentlemanly kiss.
Joanna grinned.
“Barbara Walters? Isn’t she pretty much everyone’s favorite female journalist?” she queried, adding with an awkward shrug, “Well the paper would have sent her over today, but it turns out she’s covering a rummage sale tour currently winding its way through downtown Benington. Barb does love her rummaging, and who can resist free Coney dogs to boot? So ya got me instead.”
Rewarding her good humor with a second resounding kiss, Rafe motioned her to sit beside him on the floral print settee as he told her, “You are Joanna Brighton, indeed. I can tell by that divine sense of humor. And do allow me to introduce myself in return. I’m Rafe Cole.”
“Of course you are. Very nice to meet you,” Joanna returned with a grin, adding as she turned to face a silent Ariel, “Would you like to join Rafe as he shows me samples of your beautiful artwork?”
Meeting her request with a loud, sharp sniff, Ariel turned on her heel and cleared the room in a single smooth flourish; leaving in her wake an uncomfortable silence—one that Joanna broke with the words, “Something I said? Everything I said?”
Rafe chuckled.
“Not at all, Miss,” he told her, reassuring her with a warm smile, “She’s been having a bad day since….”
“1985?” Joanna supplied, adding with an apologetic grin, “I’m sorry, I’m sure she’s just having a bad day. And I must say, she’s very beautiful.”
Rafe shook his head.
“I learn more and more each day just how
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