Midnight Jewels

furniture? That would go nicely with your line of work and suit your image."
    He was taken aback by the easy, off-the-cuff guess. It was far too accurate. The fact that .she had read his tastes so easily was mildly alarming. Lucky guess, he decided. "How did you know?"
    "We all have our gifts," she said pointedly, clearly delighted with her own perception. Her eyes were alight with the small pleasure. It was obvious she was warming rapidly to him, becoming increasingly relaxed in his presence. "Some of us can keep door bells from ringing. Others are good at taking wild guesses about strangers' homes. Actually, it wasn't all that hard. There's something about you that makes me mink of austerity and total self-reliance. I'd hate to know your politics. I don't see you as the liberal type. Are you one of those crazy survivalists who lives out in the Oregon woods and collects high powered rifles and small tanks?"
    He couldn't tell if she were teasing him or not, and that was disconcerting. "What do you dunk?"
    She sighed. "I think that, whatever else you are, you're not crazy. You're far too self-controlled to be nutso the way those survivalists are."
    "I've managed to survive so far," he said carefully. "But I'm not interested in guns. They're too impersonal. And I don't own a tank, large or small."
    "Just a Porsche."
    She nodded as if that explained something else. He was about to demand just what the car explained when she forestalled him by holding out the volume in her hand. "Here's the book. Maybe it won't be the copy you want, after all. Then you won't have to feel bad about missing out on it."
    "There are only a handful of copies in existence. As far as I know all of them are in the hands of European collectors. I'm almost certain this is the book I want. That's why I drove up here from Oregon this morning."
    "I'll bet you never do much of anything unless you're absolutely certain you've got all the answers first," Mercy grumbled.
    He looked up from the title page of
Valley of Secret Jewels
and saw the flare of deep feminine awareness in her eyes. The knowledge that she was attracted to him made his mouth curve very slightly in satisfaction. "I've found it pays to have answers before I take action, especially when it comes to dealing with people. There's an old saying about knowing your enemy. I believe in it."
    She smiled a little too brightly. "Got a lot of enemies?"
    "No. I'm as selective about my enemies as I am about my friends." He checked the roman numeral publication date of the book in his hand, turning the old, yellowed pages with care.
    "How about your lovers? Are you just as selective about them?"
    The question amazed him. He would never have thought Mercy Pennington bold enough to ask such a thing. Croft raised his eyes slowly from the page he was studying, aware from the slightly higher note on which she'd ended the query that she was already regretting her rashness. Then he saw the embarrassment in her gaze. He knew she would have given anything to call back the words. Unwittingly she had just revealed a great deal about herself. He could use what he was learning about her.
    "A man has to be far more careful about his choice of lover than he does about his choice of either friend or enemy. Friends and enemies are well defined. You always know where you stand with them unless you're stupid. But lovers aren't as easy to know and understand. They can go either way, can't they? Become friend or enemy. And who can tell the difference until it's too late?"
    The embarrassment and chagrin he saw in her green eyes were very revealing. So was the light wash of color in her cheeks. A suitable punishment for her recklessness, he decided. She was sincerely wishing she hadn't allowed herself to be goaded into the question in the first place.
    That was the thing about impulsiveness. It contained the seeds of its own retribution. He had a hunch Mercy Pennington had suffered before for her own brand of rashness. She knew the consequences but sometimes she couldn't help herself. She was the kind of woman who would let her emotions sway her logic. In a tight situation she would follow her instincts, and those instincts would be tied to whatever emotional bonds she had established. If she had children she would be as protective as a lioness.
    If she had a lover, she would be fiercely, passionately loyal unless she felt she had been betrayed. Then she would be dangerous.
    Croft smiled slightly, satisfied he understood