Driven to Distraction (Silhouette Desire S.) by Sheri Whitefeather, Dixie Browning Read Free Book Online Page A

like Silver with one hand tied behind him.
    Only this time he was going to do it nice and legal. Scare the hell out of him so that nobody’s gullible granny would get taken for a ride on Hi-Ho Silver.
    Bracing his feet apart, Ben crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the show to begin. Beside him, Janie Burger planted her hands on her hips anddid the same. Georgia said something about not enough liniment in the world to make her try it, and Charlie chuckled.
    Meanwhile, in the front of the room, Perry Silver had already started on the morning’s masterpiece, working flat on the table. From time to time he pursed his lips, stepped back, tilted his head and muttered an unintelligible incantation, after which, while his audience tried vainly to see what he was doing, he would lunge forward to add another touch. Gradually a streak of muddy color appeared on the floor where he repeatedly slung wet paint from his brush.
    â€œNo wonder the floors in here look like sh—like sugar,” Ben muttered. “Why the devil doesn’t he hold the thing up so we can see what the—so we can see what he’s doing?” Out of respect for his associates, he was trying to cull the profanity from his vocabulary, but it wasn’t easy.
    â€œWith watercolor, mostly you do it flat so you can tilt it whatever way you want the paint to flow,” Janie whispered.
    â€œOh. Right.” Going undercover as an artist might not be the swiftest idea he’d ever had.
    Georgia nudged him and whispered, “Did the brochure say anything about having to pass a physical first?”
    With a slow smile, Ben shook his head. The lady with the white buzz cut smelled like his granny. Combination of almond-scented hand lotion and arthritis-strength liniment. It reminded him of why he was here.
    Silver glanced up with a boyish grin and said, “I know, I know, it seems like forever, but this little bitover here just simply isn’t working. Give me another minute, dears, all right?”
    Dears?
    There was a general shuffling of tired feet. Someone sneezed—the latecomer with the allergies, probably.
    Someone snickered. Had to be Maggie. He glanced around, and sure enough, her hand was covering her mouth and her eyes were alight with mischief. Today she was wearing a sleeveless blue chambray thing with what looked like a man’s undershirt underneath. On her, it looked just fine.
    Ben winked at her. Last time he remembered winking at a woman he’d been about fifteen, all beered up and looking for action.
    Found it, too, if memory served.
    God, he’d had some narrow escapes. This just might turn out to be one more in a long list, unless he could keep his mind on his mission.
    â€œYou’re at the wrong table, hon,” Janie whispered. Her pastel-colored hair was held back this morning with a twisted scarf. She was wearing black tights again along with a baggy pink sweatshirt sporting a risqué slogan. It occurred to him that maybe no one had told her she was pushing seventy.
    You go, lady, he encouraged silently.
    â€œDid you say something, Miss…Riley, isn’t it?” The maestro looked up, light from the north-facing windows emphasizing the bags under his eyes. Ben figured the picture on the cover of the brochure had been either heavily retouched or taken quite a few years earlier.
    â€œSorry. I was just—just eager to see what you’ve done.”
    Bless her heart, she was lying through her pearly whites. Ben winked again. It had to be a twitch. Maybe an ingrown eyelash.
    Then Silver whipped out a hair dryer, switched it on and waved it over whatever he’d just done. Probably another “investment” like those Miss Emma had paid a whole slew of social security money for. If there was any way he could squeeze a refund out of this cheesy bastard he intended to do it.
    â€œOh, my, he’s done it again,” murmured Georgia as Perry propped his drawing board