Part 238 (1/2)

and red stripes on the floor as a throw rug-and as a sop to Conroy.

Vertical blinds let in slashes of sunlight.

”I'd imagined you in one of those slick condos near the beach. Oh,

Marianne's Legs.” Delighted, she walked over to the print he'd hung over

the couch.

”I picked that up the night of your show.”

Emma glanced over her shoulder, one brow lifted. ”Why?”

”Why did I buy it?” Thoughtful, Michael tucked his thumbs in his

pockets. ”I liked it. If you want me to start talking shadows and

texture, forget it. The fact is, it's a great pair of legs, shot with a

great deal of wit.”

”I like your opinion a lot more than a discussion on texture.” She

turned back, smiling. It had taken them hours to set this shot. Not

that it had been so difficult really. They just hadn't been able to

agree on the shoes.

It showed Marianne's legs, crossed elegantly at the knee, with a

ladylike flounce of hem sliding across them. They'd finally decided on

plain black Chucks for her feet.

”You didn't have to buy this. I know the outrageous price Runyun set. I

owed you at least a print.”

”You gave me one once already.”

She remembered the picture she'd taken of him with her father. ”But I

wasn't a professional then.”

”I imagine an early McAvoy would be worth a tidy sum if I ever wanted to

sell it.” He felt her quick, instinctive jerk when he touched her arm.

Gun-shy, he thought automatically. It was natural enough for a woman to