Page 7 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
“Hello,” a young brunette woman greeted him from behind apristine, glass-top desk with a tablet and tiny printer on it. Her dark browneyes glowed warmly. She was a bit plump in a solid, natural way that wasbeautiful and attractive. Christopher checked her ring finger, remembering aconversation the week before with his single pal, Dave, who’d mentioned hepreferred women to look like “real human beings instead of sticks.”Unfortunately for Dave, it looked as though this lovely lady was spoken for.
“You must be Mr. Ryder,” she went on. “You’re right on timefor your appointment.”
“I am. But call me Christopher.”
“We’re glad you’re here, Christopher. Jesse is lookingforward to meeting you. I’m Amanda, by the way. I help Jesse out a few times aweek.”
Christopher stepped forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meetyou.”
“Well, would you like to have a look around, acquaintyourself with some of Jesse’s work?”
“I don’t want to make him wait.”
“Oh nonsense. He’s in no rush. Here, I’ll tell you what—Ineed to lock up now that you’ve arrived anyway. Why don’t you have a quick lookwhile I do that? If you see anything that strikes your fancy, we can talk aboutit.”
Christopher cruised the glass cases thoughtfully. Holly wasright. There wasn’t a tacky piece to be found. Even the most jewel-encrustedbangle was tasteful in its tumble of color, and some of the work was sodelicate and intricate that Christopher was seized with a sudden guilt that hewas asking a man who was so obviously talented to make what was, in the schemeof things, a very common piece.
“I understand you have a good idea of what you’re wantingalready,” Amanda said, as she jangled a set of keys and headed to the frontdoor. “But if you’re not entirely sure, Jesse is great at brainstorming ideaswith clients.”
Christopher paused at the case of wedding and engagementrings while Amanda locked up the showroom. There were a variety of styles andsizes, but they all had a stamp of elegance to them. He bent to look moreclosely at one that caught his eye. It should have been too much bling foranyone’s finger, but somehow it was just perfect.
“That’s a platinum, mixed cut, diamond cluster ring,” Amandasaid, appearing at his side and following the line of his gaze with adiscerning eye. “It’s one of a kind. A beautiful piece.”
“Lovely,” Christopher agreed softly. It reminded him of hismother. Well, of the mother he’d known in his youth. It reminded him of thejewelry she’d put on when she and his father had headed to the country club. Ithad been the side of his mother he’d liked best—the woman who’d worn perfume,laughed with a wide-open mouth, and danced with his father in the living roomlate at night after he and his sister were supposed to be asleep.
Staring at the glittering stones, Christopher wasn’t sure ifhe hated the ring or loved it and all the memories it had brought up in him.
“Would you like to see it out of the case?” Amanda asked.
“No. No, thanks.”
The hallway from the front room to the back office was linedwith framed photographs chronicling the journey of a woman’s hand acrossEurope. In the first photo, the Eiffel tower loomed high in the blue sky whilea woman’s forearm and splayed hand spiked into the foreground, wearing a brightbracelet of purple and green stones. The bracelet appeared less refined thanthe work in the studio’s show room, but still bore some indefinable mark ofdesign declaring it a Birch piece.
Another photo showed the same woman’s hand with the Coliseumas a backdrop, only this time the fingers wrapped around a gelato cone, and onewas sporting a pearl and opal cluster ring. The hand, always with differentjewelry, went on to St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow, Big Ben, and Stonehengebefore Amanda stopped by an open door and rapped gently on the frame.
“Jesse, Christopher Ryder is here to see you.”
Jesse Birch didn’t meet Christopher’s expectations, thoughChristopher hadn’t, until that moment, realized he had any. Jesse wasn’t old,bespectacled, and decked out in his own jewelry pieces, or weak-eyed from thestrain of staring at tiny chips of gems. He had wavy, dark hair and stubble, alush mouth, and dark, soulful eyes. He wore no jewelry at all as far asChristopher could see, and his hands, holding a platinum and diamond ring underthe bright lamp on his desk, were beautifully formed with long, elegantfingers.
“Mr. Ryder—Christopher—this is Jesse.”
Jesse’s smile was warm, and revealed even, straight teeth,except for one straggler—a canine that stood out a little sharply from therest. He stood with his hand outstretched. His shirt, unbuttoned at the top,revealed a swirl of chest hair. Christopher’s eyes skimmed downward, followingthe line of Jesse’s buttons over his trim stomach to where his jeans hungnicely on slim hips.
Christopher gripped Jesse’s hand in his own, hyperaware ofhis own slim but slightly-less-than-totally-fit body, the way he was standing,and how long he held Jesse’s hand. Christopher ended the handshake quickly,darted his eyes away, and hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he suddenly felt.
“Please call me Christopher.”
“Great,” Jesse said. His voice was low and quiet.
Christopher had the urge to lean in closer if only to hearhim better.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Jesse added.
Amanda glanced between them, and her demeanor shifted fromfriendly to a kind of surprised uncertainty, and then, just as suddenly, shesmiled gleamingly.
Jesse licked his lips and nodded at Amanda. “I’ve got itfrom here. Thanks.”
Christopher turned a big smile on the woman, defaulting toSouthern friendliness to cope with the buzzing in his body and the rush ofblood in his cheeks. He hadn’t felt so unnecessarily awkward because of a surgeof surprise attraction since the time he was in high school and Rick Caddy hadcaught him staring at his ass in algebra class. At least he didn’t think heneeded to worry about Jesse beating him up over it.
