C4 You can't marry him

"You collect antiques, I see," he said finally.

"Some pieces are antiques. Some are just...old," I admitted. "I got most of the things through my business. I have a shop in town," I explained. "It's sort of a combination thrift store, antique and vintage clothes shop we sell all kinds of thing."

"Yes, I know all about it Olivia's Attic," he replied, in a smug, know-it-all tone.

"Yes, that's right, I answered, lifting my chin.

At five-nine, I was tall for a woman. But he was at least six foot two or three I guessed, and when he glared down at me, I felt almost...petite.

A feeling I did not often experienced in the company of a man.

He stalked around my living room like a disgruntled tiger, practically growling under his breath. He picked up a china dish off the end table and checked the imprint on the bottom. It was Limoges, a discontinued pattern. Despite the hairline crack in the finish, it was worth something, especially to a collector.

"Nice," he noted as he carefully set it down again."From your shop as well?"

"That's right," I replied.

"I imagine you don't make much profit if you take home all the best pieces for yourself."

"I do all right," I bristled. The nerve of the man. As if it was any of his business how much profit I made.

He laughed, a cold, hard sound that contradicted my claim.

"I've already told you once. Don't lie to me. I know very well what kind of trade Olivia's Attic does or doesn't do.

"Do you?" I challenged.

"Down to the last dollar I' ve did some research, you see. Your profit margin is not very...... impressive."

I felt myself flush red with anger to the roots of my hair. I didn't make much money from my shop, it was true, But I did have my writing. It had been just a hobby for years, but if my publisher was right, I might be making more money than I'd ever dreamed with my second mystery novel, which was just about to hit the book apps and had already received several good reviews.

But perhaps Mr. Know-lt-All's investigation had missed that fact since I wrote under a pseudonym.

Despite Will's warnings that his brother would pull out all the stops, the very idea that he had investigated me.......spied on me.......made my blood boil.

"You're the last person on earth I'm interested in impressing." Mr. Adams, I replied smoothly. "But just so your facts are straight, you can note that I have other sources of income."

"I'll bet," he said in a harsh, accusing tone. "Like my brother, for instance?" he added harshly, Well, as of tonight, you can strike Will Adams from your balance sheet. You'll have to find some other

Wealthy boyfriend to set you up in the affluent style to which you aspire. Your tastes exceed your income, Ms. Christopher."

I stared at him, too shocked to speak.

"Of course, with your looks, it shouldn't be too hard to find another rich sap," he added before I could reply "With that face.....and body to match..... I'm not surprised you had a guy like Will twisted around your little finger," His hot, appraising glance swept down my thinly clad figure, making me feel practically undressed. While I knew I was decently covered,

I instinctively clutched at the neckline of my robe. Then I turned on him, and my temper exploded.

"You have some unbelievable nerve! Waking me up in the middle of the night. Waving like a madman. Coming into my home and insulting me in this outrageous manner!"

I knew I was only playing a part, but how dare he accuse me......accuse any woman he'd barely met five minutes ago of trading money for romantic

favors. Besides, if Will wanted to give his girlfriends gifts, even if those gifts included money, it was hardly his older brother's business.

"Yes, play the part of the outraged maiden, why don't you? The sensitive, innocent flower, was trampled and slandered by a brute. An absolute beast," he added in a mocking tone.

"Have I bruised your tender sensibilities so harshly, Ms. Christopher? Well, let me put it to you another way then. As far as I can see, you are-as they'd say in the good old days......a fortune hunter, madam. Plain and simple, one who is after my brother's money. If you think you're going to marry him, think again," he shouted at me.

"I'm sure you're the one who needs to think again, Mr. Adams, I replied, echoing his cutting tone. "Your brother is an intelligent, responsible adult who can and will choose who he wishes to marry. And without your grandiose, overbearing interference or approval. I might add."

"You will not marry him, "Brian Adams countered. He stared at me from across the room where he stood silhouetted against the long frame window. He was an intimidating man, some part of my brain noted. Intimidating, infuriating-and even now -disturbingly attractive.