The Search by Nora Roberts

a wonderful wide-armed rocker she coveted to send him a cool stare. “Is that so?”
    “Yeah, it’s so. Mostly I lean toward the arty, feminine type. Curvy’s a bonus.”
    “Like Sylvia.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Or Nina Abbott.” She couldn’t help the smug smile when annoyance flicked briefly in his eyes.
    “Or” was all he said.
    “Thank God we got that cleared up before I gave my squishy, susceptible heart into your hands.”
    “Lucky break. But . . . it’s good to mix things up now and then. Try new things.”
    “Great. I’ll let you know when I want to be mixed and tried. Meanwhile, I’ll take my inelegant, art-starved, unfeminine, flat-chested self out of your way.”
    “You’re not flat-chested.”
    The laugh escaped before she knew it was there. “God, you’re a weird sucker. I’m going while I still have enough crumbs of ego left to sweep into a pile.”
    She went to the door, called his dog. When the puppy raced to her, she petted and praised. Then she nudged his butt farther into the room, closed the door with him inside. She flicked one glance at Simon through the glass before striding to her truck, Newman faithfully at her side.
    He watched her through the window, the long, athletic stride, the easy grace. She’d looked lost when she came into the shop. Hesitant, uncertain. Tired.
    Not anymore, he thought as she hopped into her truck. Now she was brisk, distracted and maybe a little pissed.
    Better. Maybe he was one weird sucker, but he’d worry less about her now.
    Satisfied, he replaced his earplugs, his goggles, turned on the music. And got back to work.

    EYES BRIGHT, SYLVIA leaned on the counter of her pretty little shop while Fiona debated earrings. “He did not say that.”
    “He absolutely said that.” Fiona held long pearl drops to one ear, funky, colored glass balls to the other. “I’m not elegant enough for his overrated cabinet. I can be elegant.” She turned. “See? Pearls.”
    “Very pretty. But the fused glass ones are really you.”
    “Yeah, but I could wear the pearls, if I wanted.” After setting them back in the display, Fiona wandered over to a tall raku vase.
    There was always something new to see in Sylvia’s place. A painting, a scarf, a table, a treasure trove of jewelry. She stopped by a bench with high, curved sides and skimmed her fingers over the wood.
    “This is beautiful.”
    “It’s one of Simon’s.”
    She resisted giving it a flick with her formerly admiring fingers. “Figures. Then he said I wasn’t his type. As if I’d asked. You are.”
    “I am?”
    “He even used you as an example. Arty and female and built.”
    “Really?”
    “Sure, go ahead and look smug.”
    Deliberately, obviously, Sylvia fluffed at her hair. “It’s hard not to.”
    “Well, feel free to follow up,” Fiona added with a dismissive wave.
    “It might be interesting, but I think I’ll just stay smug. I’m sure he didn’t mean to insult you.”
    “Oh yes he did.”
    “Tell you what. I’m closing in ten minutes. We’ll go have dinner and trash him. Better, men in general.”
    “That sounds like fun, but I need to get back. I really just came in to bitch. Jesus, Syl, it’s been a crappy couple of days.”
    Sylvia skirted the counter to give Fiona a bolstering hug. “Why don’t I come over and fix you some pasta while you take a nice long bath?”
    “Honestly, I think I’m going to open a can of soup, then go to bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
    “I worry about you, Fee.” She gave Fiona’s tail of hair a little tug. “Why don’t you come stay with me until they catch this maniac?”
    “You know I’m fine. Me and the boys. Besides, the maniac’s not interested in me.”
    “But—” She broke off when the door opened.
    “Hi, Sylvia. Hi, Fiona.”
    “Jackie, how are you?” Sylvia smiled at the pretty blonde who ran a local B&B.
    “I’m just fine. I meant to get in earlier. I know you close in a few minutes.”
    “Don’t worry