Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (23 page)

Frowning, the empty space where her
lucky penny used to hang distracted her a moment. She’d lost that one–-her
oldest and most favorite talisman—a few weeks ago and hadn’t found one to
replace it yet. She hoped another lucky penny would turn up soon.

Not that she
really
believed
in such things, but it didn’t hurt to keep her options open. Discovering a new
lucky coin would be a good indication her fortunes were about to change. She
needed them to change. And soon--if the catastrophes of the past few months
were anything to go by.

Crossing her fingers behind her
back, Molly wished for the best as Janice clipped a microphone onto the front
of her t-shirt.

“If you look closely at the
carvings,” James
Lindermann
instructed, “you can see
the exquisite craftsmanship...”

Seated beneath the glare of hot
studio lights, sweat trickled between Gabe’s shoulder blades. He tried to
concentrate on the expert’s monologue about the oddly-shaped chunk of green
jade his grandfather had proffered as an answer to their financial prayers.

The carving had collected dust in a
footlocker under Granddad’s bed for as long as Gabe could remember. But since
it didn’t look like much of anything, and he didn’t give a rat’s rear about
twelfth-century this, whoever-dynasty that, his mind wandered.

He had real-life worries to capture
his attention. But if this knickknack turned out to be nothing more than an
elaborate paperweight, he’d have his grandfather’s disappointment to deal with
as well.

Granddad was certain the piece had
immense historical and monetary value, but then, that was Granddad all over.
Gabe had no idea how the old man could remain a wide-eyed optimist after all
the kicks in the teeth life had dealt him. But Gabe figured one of them should
be realistic, and usually, lately anyway, in the colorfully shifting
kaleidoscope of Shaw family dynamics, he assumed the role of hard-ass
pragmatist.

In the end, he’d understood he
could either take Granddad’s treasure here to the show for him, or the feisty
octogenarian would bring it himself. He was used to Granddad’s oddities, but
other people tended to lose their patience when trying to talk to him. Mainly
because he refused to wear his hearing aid unless it suited him to do so.

Gabe had decided it was better for
him to give up time he couldn’t afford to waste, than worry about Granddad
creating a scene on public television. He hoped for both their sakes that the
twisty, leaf-shaped jade thing did turn out to be worthwhile. A few hundred
bucks wouldn’t do the business any good. Hell, a few thousand wouldn’t help.
They needed a major influx of cash, and they needed it
now.
If only he
could manage to keep things going for the next six months...

He pulled his thoughts back on
track. Look interested, the director had said before they began. Sure, he could
do that. He fixed his gaze on the jade now as James lifted the piece and turned
it upside down to point to some markings on the bottom.

“The jade is exquisite, the marking
is undeniable.” The appraiser quivered with suppressed excitement. “The stones set
in the bronze base are first-quality rubies approximately one to two carats
each.”

The unexpected phrase
‘first-quality rubies’ grabbed Gabe’s attention in time for him to hear, “I’d
place the estimated value at twenty to thirty thousand dollars.”

He almost leapt to his feet in
celebration, but pretending to be Mr. Cool, he managed to remain seated. Before
he broke open any champagne, he wanted,
needed
, James to repeat the
amount. “How much?”

“As is, I’d estimate the value of
this piece at the right auction to be approximately twenty to thirty thousand
dollars.”

Gabe hit the heel of his hand
against his ear, in case his Granddad’s hearing disability was hereditary and
had chosen this moment to strike. “Did you say ten thousand dollars?”

“I said
twenty
thousand,”
James repeated, smiling all the while. “Or thirty. And that estimate could be
on the low side.”

“Wow.” Gabe rolled the number
around inside his head, stunned by the evaluation. Then, remembering Janice’s
instructions, he found his voice and spoke up, more visibly enthusiastic.
“Thank you! My grandfather will be thrilled. And so am I.” He reached out to
pump the effeminate hand.

Thirty thousand dollars wouldn’t be
enough to save them, but it would tide them over for a few weeks, until he
could come up with a practical plan to raise the capital necessary to keep his
company going. And not just for his sake, or even for Granddad’s. There was his
niece Chloe to think about, his sister Sierra, and all the other misfit
relatives he employed.

“Now for some background on the
companion piece.” The appraiser gestured to the other carving. Oh, yeah,
Gabe’d
almost forgotten about the perky woman from the
waiting room.

“Congratulations,” she mouthed to
him from across the table. The same brilliant eyes that had watched him
disapprovingly when he’d talked—all right, when he’d
yelled
—at Granddad
on the phone, now seemed genuinely pleased for him. And they glittered with
excitement, eager to hear about her own treasure.

As the appraiser began his spiel,
Gabe reminded himself to pay attention--when all he really wanted to do was
take the piece and run to the nearest auction house.

“See the similar markings?” the
expert began.

Gabe watched on autopilot,
following the lead of the Webber woman, nodding when she nodded, smiling when
she smiled.

And what a great smile. Her lush
and full lips drew his attention. Wide and expressive, they were totally out of
place on top of a package that made her look like she’d arrived at the studio
straight from the schoolroom.

Pleated skirt, canvas tote bag,
sensible shoes, tip tilted nose. Deep, oceanic blue eyes that conveyed her
every thought. Skin like peaches. Even wearing loose-fitting, everyday
clothing, her body hinted at some definite
curvage
hidden beneath.

Well, all right, he admitted, not
all of her parts fit the elementary school image, but enough of her bits and
pieces meshed together for him to recognize a traditional woman with children
and domesticity on her mind. Not at all the sophisticated, career-driven type
he usually found appealing. The kind of woman who looked for hot and bothered
temporary sex more often than a hearts and flowers emotional commitment.

The fire-shot opal sparkling on the
third finger of Molly’s left hand didn’t look like a wedding or engagement
ring, but if she wasn’t married, he’d missed his guess by a mile. Although her
earlier choice of reading material indicated things might be rocky on the home
front. Still, someone who looked that sexily domestic should definitely be
married and making some lucky bum ecstatic in the bedroom.

“There are twelve flawless rubies,
at least a carat each. Valuable in their own right, but combined with the
authenticity of the jade and its partner—” James took a handkerchief from an
inside coat pocket and mopped his brow, letting the suspense build.
“Individually, the two pieces have similar values. The pink is slightly more
valuable than the green due to the unusual coloring and the size of the jewels.
But here’s the exciting part.”

The appraiser picked up both jades.
A sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The tension in the air ratcheted
up another notch. A crowd had gathered on the perimeter of their set. “If you
fit the components together like so...” James paused for a dramatic moment
before he placed Molly’s rose-hued swirling petals of jade inside Gabe’s
hollowed out base. The appraiser then gave a slight twist of the wrist, and
Gabe would have sworn the hair on the back of his neck stood up in some kind of
weird anticipation.

“Voila!” James said with a
flourish. “It’s unusually subdued for a piece of this sort, especially from
this era, but do you see what we have?”

“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful.”
The Molly-person’s warm voice flowed over Gabe like honey. “It looks like a
flower. A lily, maybe, or a ... a lotus blossom?”

Puzzled, Gabe leaned in to peer
more closely at the object.

“It’s what Asian art collectors
call a Sleeping Lotus,” James enthused. “It’s very uncommon to find a set that
was created in the twelfth century, by Li-Wang, the Emperor’s Imperial carver,
intact and undamaged.” The appraiser beamed, looking like a man ready to kick
up his heels. “My heart nearly pounded out of my chest when I saw the two
pieces. I’ve dreamed of handling both the stalk and petals of a Lotus in such
pristine condition for my entire career, but I’ve never had the privilege.”

“Never?” Molly’s eyes widened with
delight.

Gabe rubbed his palms together
beneath the table. Oh, yeah, this could be good. Very, very good.

“None that have come close to this one
in quality, condition, and beauty,” James amended.

“Why are they so rare?” An
unprecedented spark of hope flared inside Gabe’s chest.

“Despite the curses often attached
to such artistry, the pieces get—”

Uh-oh
. Gabe clamped a hand
over the back of his neck where the hairs definitely bristled. He hoped his
sister, Sierra, didn’t hear anything about a possible curse. She lapped up that
kind of mystical claptrap with a spoon.

“Curses?” Molly’s shoulders jerked
back, and she straightened from her study of the object. “What kind of curses?”

“We can’t know what curse is
attached to this particular piece without more research,” James told them. “But
generally the curses predict infertility, impotence, death, dismemberment,
unrequited affairs of the heart, any number of personal disasters.” He shrugged
them all away with a lift of a shoulder and a flick of an elegant hand. “All
myth, of course, but a powerful incentive for anyone inclined to superstition.”

Gabe trained his attention on the
conjoined pieces. Tipping his head from side to side, he tried to discern the
beauty Molly claimed to see.  He saw only the hint of a flower. In fact,
the form reminded him of a man and a woman.

Intertwined in a very intimate act.

Pornographic, in fact.

He looked closer.

Yes, by God, from every angle, all
he could detect was the linked image of a couple enjoying a pretty enthusiastic
round of sex. He fought the urge to drop a cover over it before the suddenly
irresistible Molly Webber realized her beautiful “Sleeping Lotus” depicted
nothing more artistic than a complicated Kama Sutra pose.

“Are you sure it’s a flower?” He
cleared his throat. “Isn’t it... Isn’t it...?” He really wasn’t sure how to
phrase the question without jeopardizing the program’s family rating.

“Yes, it’s subtle, isn’t it?” James
stuck his thumbs into his vest pockets and preened. “It’s the finest piece of
twelfth century Chinese erotica I’ve ever handled.”

The delectable Molly gasped and
leaned in, tilting her long slender neck this way and that. Gabe knew the
instant recognition fell into place for her by the flood of color highlighting
her cheeks. With her newfound awareness, her gaze remained riveted on the
piece.

“Are you allowed to show this on
the air?” she blurted. “There might be children watching.”

“Of course,” the appraiser assured
her. “We’re public television. It’s educational.”

“It is now,” Gabe muttered. “For
anyone under the age of ten anyway.”

“But what does all this ancient
Chinese artistry mean in regard to value?” Bless her heart, Molly returned to
the crux of the matter more quickly than Gabe.

“Because there are only a few
complete sets by this artist known to exist, these are highly sought after by a
number of different collecting groups.” The appraiser’s eyes glinted with
avarice. “For a Sleeping Lotus of this quality, a serious jade, Chinese and/or
erotica collector would pay as much as four to five hundred thousand dollars.
Maybe more.”

For many writers, their most important resource is the
virtual community surrounding them. For me, this includes all of the inspiring
and talented women of The Ruby-
Slippered
Sisterhood,
The Pixie Chicks, The Lucky 13s, The
FiveCorners
, The
Golden Network, and the members of OVRWA who go back with me all the way to the
beginning of this crazy endeavor. I am so grateful to have all of these
outstanding women in my world.

Special thanks to my daughter, Sarah. I could not have
accomplished this goal without her encouragement and technical expertise. She
gives me great joy in the midst of a challenging world.

Thank you to my son Evan, for doing what he can to make my
life more fun and keep me current.

I’d like to thank my families, both bloodline and in-law,
for their continual support and for always providing me with a place to call home.

Additional thanks to my editor, Annie
Oortman
,
cover designer; Kim
Killion
of The
Killion
Group, Inc.; excellent Beta Readers, Annie
Woerner
and Sarah Patrick; Leslie Lynch for patiently
advising me on the details of self-publishing; and Darcy Woods, for her
creative brilliance on Twitter tags.

Last and most importantly, I must thank my amazingly
handsome husband, Goble, for sticking by me and encouraging the fulfillment of
this dream. He is my hero, my love, and my partner for life.