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"Once we'd all met and talked, the choice for trail leader was practically unanimous: your ancestor Arlen." |
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Mike straightened so quickly that he nearly knocked his chair out from under him. Here it was, the reason for her ridiculous fabrication, her "saving" him at the elevator. It had something to do with his business. Maybe she was going to claim a piece of Arlen's Kitchens, thanks to some imaginary link with his ancestor. "So Arlen was the epitome of leadership, was he?" He was unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. |
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She glanced at him, pain etching tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. As she did quite often, she raised her slender fingers, seemingly to stroke the taut skin beneath her lovely, narrow jaw. "Arlen was a very nice man," she said quietly. "But he only learned to be a leader from experience." |
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Mike poured fresh coffee from the pot Hannah had left. He felt disoriented; why didn't Abby just make her claim? Surely she didn't believe her own story. If she were that nuts, wouldn't he see insanity glimmer in her eyes? |
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He looked into them as he said, "So tell me more about Arlen and this magical journey westward." |
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"It wasn't magical," Abby contradicted. Those lovely brown eyes glittered, all right, but with anger at his teasing. And still she seemed uneasy meeting his gaze. "It was quite difficult. We even |
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