The Secret Agent's Surprises (Harlequin American Romance) Read Free

though. Maybe women aren’t looking for good-looking, strong, independent rascals anymore.”
    She really didn’t know what to say to such audacity. There was no doubt Pete was a sexy man. She’d been wildly attracted to him when she’d met him in January. He was indeed very handsome, and his devil-may-care attitude drew her in. Tall, long-haired, with eyes of glacial blue—his very face spelled danger. She shivered, remembering. He’d come across like a tough guy, but when he wanted to be charming—and he’d definitely been charming—a woman knew she’d take off her dress pretty fast for him. He’d not made any moves on her, not really. In fact, he’d seemed bent on making Dane jealous over Suzy, and so Priscilla had felt safe.
    But it was the gleam in Pete’s eye when he looked at her sometimes that let her know his charms could be dangerous—if he hadn’t been treating her like a sister, for Suzy’s sake. In other words, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
    There was no way this would work. Josiah couldn’t possibly understand. Families had their share of matchmaking enthusiasts, busybodies and downright meddlesome fussbudgets bent on having their own way. At least Josiah didn’t hide his intentions. Wouldn’t his scheming make Pete mad? Priscilla studied Josiah and wondered.
    Was the old man really looking for forgiveness—or was Josiah angling for more grandchildren?

    Chapter Two
     
    Two days later Priscilla wasn’t feeling very forgiving. Under new rules—and a revised estimation of the value of her real estate, thanks to new bank software—Priscilla learned the value of her home and business had sunk by forty thousand dollars. In the blink of an eye, she’d lost the foothold she thought she’d been gaining. Real estate was supposed to keep its value, if not go up, but with current economic conditions, banks were tightening lending standards and the way they evaluated properties.
    Her situation wouldn’t have been so devastating except that she’d been counting on her home to provide equity for her tea shop. The loss of forty thousand would put her out of business.
    “Fine,” she told her friend Deacon Cricket Jasper, who’d come over for tea and a visit. “I’ll go back to doing what I was doing before I became a small businesswoman. I’ll work for the government crunchingnumbers in some dreary office. At least I’ll have some retirement funds put away.”
    “I don’t know,” Cricket said, looking around the wing of the home that served as the shop. “You’ve done pretty well, and this place is popular. Get an outside appraisal and ask for a home equity line of credit at a different bank.”
    Priscilla considered that. “No one’s lending money these days, certainly not to take a chance on a tiny tea shop and etiquette lessons.” The thought depressed her. Her heart was in her business. “I’d be in trouble if people were to suddenly cut back on parties and etiquette lessons for their children. Maybe it’s better this way.”
    Cricket nodded. “One of my favorite sayings is that when God closes a door, he opens a window.”
    Priscilla smiled. “You’re a good friend to remind me.” She glanced around her pretty little shop. The walls were painted a light, cheery pink. White tables sat here and there, inviting conversation; two pink-and-white-striped antique sofas lined the walls for intimate groupings. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminated by tiny purple bulbs hidden around the ceiling tray so that soft amethyst light bathed the crystals of the chandelier and reflected the hue on the ceiling. It was a comforting place. At night, when the shop was closed, she liked to sit in here with a good book, a side-table lamp lighting the pages. “It was just such a shock when Italked to the man at the bank. He was so sympathetic, but I felt bad. I’m not the only person this has happened to, so I don’t intend to feel sorry for myself, but it wasn’t