by Susan Mann
Ben chuckled and said, “That’s because I am a librarian, though I now use my research skills to make more money in the private sector.”
“Interesting.” Quinn wondered just how much more money he made.
“Thanks for helping James out, by the way. His research abilities are stretched to the limit when he uses Google to find the closest pub.”
James shot Ben a sardonic look. “Thanks for that, mate.” Ben just grinned back at him.
“Give him some credit. I’ve seen him use Google to find gas stations, too.”
“Et tu, Brute?” James said, squinting at her.
First Harry Potter and now Shakespeare. It was as if he had a secret file on her that listed all her favorite things and was sprinkling them into their conversations to make her like him even more. Not that he needed to work at it.
“Just kidding,” she said and bumped James’s shoulder with hers.
Addressing Ben, she said, “I’m glad James isn’t an expert researcher. If he was, he wouldn’t need my help.”
“Fair point,” Ben said with a nod. They chatted for a few more minutes and ended the call with Quinn promising to get the information Ben requested as soon as possible. She couldn’t work out why he wanted to know more about a passage of dialogue in a German opera when he was supposed to be authenticating artifacts. But if he was anything like her, he probably wanted to sate something that had piqued his curiosity.
But why would he be taking time out for a video chat for a purely personal matter? Something didn’t add up.
James closed the laptop and looked at Quinn expectantly. “Ready for our outing?”
“Our? You want to come with me?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It won’t be very exciting. I’ll grab the dissertation off the shelf, skim it until I find what Ben needs, and copy those pages.”
“I’ve never been to UCLA. I’d like to see it. I hear it’s beautiful.”
“I’m biased, but yeah, it is.” She was secretly thrilled at the idea of showing him around her alma mater.
“Also, I can take pictures of the pages on my phone and text them to Ben. That way he can see them right away. If it’s not exactly what he needs, we can keep looking.”
“Okay. That’s a great idea.” She picked her purse up from the floor. “Westwood, here we come.”
Chapter Six
It was late Friday afternoon and Quinn and James were wrapping up their research for the day. Quinn made a note that she’d requested a book on antique clocks through interlibrary loan and considered checking with Nicole to see if she wanted to go out after work.
Her deliberations were interrupted when James grumbled, “I’m starving.” He closed the book he’d been reading with a thump. “Have dinner with me tonight. Please?”
She stopped typing, not expecting that at all. They’d had a great time at the music library the day before, and after retrieving the information Ben had requested, walked around campus together. But upon their return to the Westside Library, James immediately bid her good night and left. And yet now he was asking her to dinner.
He sat up straighter and his eyes widened. “It’s not a date or anything. I just can’t stand the idea of another night of eating alone.”
And there it was. He’d asked her because he didn’t know many people in L.A. She almost laughed out loud when she realized how foolish she’d been. It didn’t mean she’d say no, though. “Sure.”
“Great! I want to try this hamburger place I keep hearing about. I hear their double cheeseburgers are unparalleled.”
She immediately knew the place he was talking about. She folded her hands together and eyed him. “Everything you’ve heard is true.” The gravity in her voice made it sound as if they were discussing a matter of national security. “But you must be warned. The Double-Double is the gateway drug. Soon, you’ll be ordering your fries Animal Style and asking for Neapolitan milk shakes. I won’t be held responsible when you climb onto an airplane at Heathrow, all wild-eyed and jittery, muttering you have to get back to L.A. for In-N-Out.”
“You paint quite a picture,” he said, his smile lopsided. “Will it live up to the hype?”
She slapped a hand to her chest. “You wound me deeply.”
He chuckled quietly as she saved the work on her laptop and closed it.
“You want to drive, or should I?” she asked.
“I’ll follow you in my car. That way I can go straight back to my hotel.”
Right, she thought. Why ride in the same car when it wasn’t a date? “Good point.” She stood and gathered her things from the table. “Come with me to my desk so I can get the rest of my stuff. We can sneak out the back door to the parking lot.”
He followed Quinn’s lead, picked up his papers, and placed them in his briefcase. “Invited into the library’s inner sanctum? I’m honored.”
“You should be,” she said. “Upon crossing the threshold, the secrets of the universe will be revealed to you. It’s where we keep them. Job security.”
“That explains a lot,” James shot back, his tone equally wry. He tossed his jacket over his arm, picked up his briefcase, and looked at Quinn expectantly. “Lay on, Macduff. ”
More Shakespeare, and quoted correctly, although they weren’t in the middle of a swordfight. How was he even real? she wondered as she led him toward the Bullpen.
Once at her desk, she went about the business of preparing to leave while James stood in the space between her and Ed’s desks.
“What is that?” he asked.
Quinn glanced at him from over her shoulder and followed his gaze to the snowman figure atop Ed’s desk. “We’ve decided it’s the evil spawn created from the unholy union between an orc and Frosty the Snowman.”
He bent forward to get a closer look. “I think they were going for whimsy when they gave it a toothy grin. But it’s just creepy.”
“Exactly.”
“The snow arms and legs don’t help either. Snowmen really shouldn’t be mobile.” He straightened. “If I may ask one question.”
“Why?” she asked with a smile as she tugged the purse strap up over her shoulder.
“Yes.”
“You’ve met Ed, right? The guy who says his first job was at the library in ancient Alexandria?”
James laughed. “Yes, I’ve met Ed.”
“Last year he brought in a terrifying Santa as a Christmas decoration. It had these red, glowing eyes that followed you like the all-seeing eye of Sauron. I begged him not to bring Sauron Santa in this year and he promised he wouldn’t.”
“So he brought this instead? I’m not sure Frosty the Snoworc is an improvement.”
Quinn smiled. “When he promised no Sauron Santa, he warned me he would buy the most horrifying decoration he could find to replace it.”
“I see he was successful,” James said. “That has to be one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever seen.”
He swept his arm out to the side, indicating she should go first. They exited out the back door and into the parking lot. James followed her ancient 4Runner in his rental through two miles of rush hour traffic to the nearest In-N-Out. Quinn called it a win since she was only cut off three times.
Once parked, they dodged between cars lined up in the drive-thru and walked toward a white building with lighted red letters and a yellow arrow above the door.
“Wow,” James said under his breath when they joined the line to order food.
Quinn glanced around the crowded dining room. “This is busy, but you should see it at lunchtime. I sometimes eat in my car because I can’t find a place to sit.” One of the red apron-wearing employees shouted a number from behind the counter. She watched a man in a brown UPS uniform shoulder his way through a cluster of people to retrieve his food.
“I take it you eat here often?”
“I think I’d better plead the Fifth on that,” she answered with a half smile.
They shuffled along un
til they reached the counter and when she dug into her purse for her wallet, James took out his fold of cash, peeled off a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to the cashier. “Please, allow me.”
“At least let me pay for my half,” Quinn said.
He waved the request away with a hand. “No need. I’ll expense it.”
She wanted to say something snarky like You sure know how to impress a girl, but instead she merely thanked him. She reminded herself, again, they were work associates and nothing more.
After securing a table, James went to the counter when their number was called and returned with a red tray laden with food.
Quinn watched James take a Double-Double and peer down at it. It must have passed inspection since he lifted it in salute, said, “Cheers,” and took a bite.
As he started to chew, his face remained neutral. At first. But then his jaw slowed and his head tipped back, ever so slightly. His eyelids fluttered and a euphoric hum bubbled from his chest.
She giggled at his reaction, pleased but not at all surprised. Now that he was forever firmly under the enchanting spell of the Double-Double, she took a bite of her own. Her reaction was similar to his. When he took another bite and grinned at her as he happily chewed, Quinn fought the urge to reach across the table and wipe off the blob of sauce on his cheek.
A companionable silence settled over them as they ate with gusto. When Quinn had plowed through most of her burger and downed at least half of her fries, James said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Quinn, but I’ve never seen someone as petite as you eat like a lumberjack.”
“I’ve got five older brothers,” she answered with a shrug. “If you don’t eat fast, you don’t eat at all.”
“Five brothers? That’s a big family. Are you the only girl?”
“Mmm-hmm. And the baby.” She breathed a laugh. “My parents thought they’d never have a girl. They could hardly believe it when I was born.”
“They must have been thrilled.”
“They were, but it caused some drama, too, when it came time to name me. My parents had a naming scheme, so when I finally came along, I threw a monkey wrench into it.”
“Really? How so?” With a cheeky smile, he asked, “They ran out of names that start with the letter Q?”
“Ha! That’d be a trick, wouldn’t it?” she said, grinning at the thought of it. “Quixote, Quimby, Quirinius . . .”
“Quentin.”
“That’s only four. We need one more.” Her eyes darted around the dining room. When her gaze landed on a dark-haired boy who looked to be eleven or twelve years old, she stated, “Quirrell.”
He nodded in approval. “Harry Potter.”
She smiled and nodded. “But as cool as it would be for all of us to have names that start with Q, that’s not it. My brothers’ names are George, John, Thomas, Madison, and Monroe.” With an arched eyebrow, she asked, “See a pattern?”
He sipped his drink, deep in thought. “The first two could be Beatles, but the rest don’t fit.”
“Madison would love to be Ringo, but nope. What if I gave you a hint and told you George’s middle name is Washington?”
It wasn’t long before his face lit up and he snapped his fingers. “Let me guess. John’s middle name is Adams.”
“Ding, ding, ding, ding,” she said and toasted him with her cup. “My dad’s a huge American history buff and my mom thought the naming scheme was fun.”
He cocked his head. “Not that I’m biased or anything, but why is Madison not James?”
“He was going to be, but he and Monroe are twins.”
“Ah. That’s brilliant, actually. How does Quinn fit in?”
“It’s short for Quincy.”
Understanding gleamed in his eyes. “John Quincy Adams.”
“Yup, next on the list. My parents were going to chuck the whole ‘name-the-kid-after-a-dead-president’ thing and use the girl’s name they’d picked out years before. But the story goes when my brothers came to see me in the hospital right after I was born, George took one look at me and said, ‘You have to name her Quincy. She’s bald just like John Quincy Adams was.’ So Quincy it was. It got shortened to Quinn almost right away. My dad has always called me Quincy, though.”
“That’s a fantastic story.”
“Thanks. I’m impressed by your knowledge of American presidents.”
“Don’t be. I only know the first few.” He scratched his cheek and added, “I took an American history class at university.”
“Well, you still know more than most Americans.” She needed something to do with her hands, so she stuck a French fry into her ketchup and swirled it around. “What about you? Is there a story behind your name?”
“Do you mean was I named after an American president? Sorry, no.”
She wadded up a napkin and threw it at him. “Smart aleck.”
“Perhaps you need to be more precise with your words,” he shot back with a wry smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“To answer your question, as far as I know, my parents simply liked the name.”
“That works, too. Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Quinn already knew the answer to her question, and several other bits of information she’d gleaned from her research on him Monday evening after he’d “hired” her. Nicole had deemed it “some world-class Internet stalking.” Quinn preferred to call it effective use of her professional skills. Besides, it was smart for her to know a little more about the person she’d be working with.
“I have a younger sister, Sophie. She’s finishing up her last year at university.” James glanced around and said, “I think we’d better go. There are a couple of chaps who are eyeing our table.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward the restrooms. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
James slid out of the booth, leaving his jacket on the seat and his phone on the table.
Was it her imagination or had he dropped the subject of family like a hot potato? Maybe it was a painful subject for some reason? She’d try to curb her curiosity.
Quinn decided to clear out and open up the table for the lurkers waiting to sit. She reached out to pick up his phone. It buzzed and she jerked her hand back in surprise as a text message flashed on the screen.
It wasn’t her fault she could read upside down. When she saw the text was from someone named Shawna asking James to meet up, Quinn’s cheeseburger-filled stomach leapt to her throat and her mind jumped into overdrive. Who the hell was Shawna? Had James lied when he told Quinn he didn’t have a girlfriend? Had Shawna come all the way from England to surprise him? Maybe he hadn’t lied about not having a girlfriend but had met Shawna in the past couple of weeks, just like he’d met her. Who knew what he did once he left the library every evening? Maybe he hooked up with this Shawna person after working with Quinn all day.
Hurt and anger burned in her chest, although she knew she had no right to feel either. They only worked together. He had every right to do whatever he wanted. Still, it felt like someone had kicked her in the gut.
Quinn continued to struggle with her emotions when James returned. Sitting across from her again, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”
She gave him a wan smile. “Just a little tired, I guess.”
“Then it’s time we get you on your way home.” He picked up his phone and pressed the front button, checking it. Other than a slight flare of his nostrils, his features were inscrutable as his thumbs moved over the screen. He slid his phone in his back pocket and smiled. “Shall we?”
They slid out of their booth and James dumped their trash into the bin as Quinn slipped on her jacket. Once outside, she tugged the front of it closed to ward off the chilly evening air.
Quinn pushed aside the questions swirling in her mind and said, “Thanks for dinner. It was fun.” At least until the end, she added silently.
“You’re quite welcome.”
She waved the keys in her hand and
mumbled, “I, um, I guess I’ll see you Monday.” The library was closed all day Sunday and she wasn’t scheduled to work Saturday. Since James hadn’t mentioned anything, she assumed he would be taking the weekend off. At least now she knew why. He’d be spending it with Shawna.
“Yes. Right. Monday.” She expected him to say good-bye and walk off toward his car. Instead, he stayed glued to the asphalt and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “I was wondering if you might have some free time tomorrow.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Maybe he didn’t have plans with Shawna after all.
Before she could answer, he said, “There are a few more pieces I need to document, and I thought you might like to come along to the client’s house and see some of the things we’ve been researching in person.”
Of course it was about work. But when the thought hit her that if he were with her, he wouldn’t be with Shawna, she said, “Sure, I’d like that.”
“Brilliant,” he said with a grin she assumed was his happiness at not having to work alone.
Something he’d mentioned the first time he came into the library pushed itself to the front of her mind. “What about your client’s confidentiality?”
“I assured the majordomo you were both very discreet and highly unlikely to steal anything, so he approved.”
“Thanks for the sterling character reference. Wait. There’s a majordomo?”
He nodded. “The client has a man who takes care of his house and affairs here in L.A. I’ll text you the address,” James said. “Meet me in front of the house at ten o’clock tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. See you then.” With that, he spun on his heel and strode off toward his car.
Quinn climbed into her truck and craned her neck, to watch the interior light go on and off as James got in his car. Her truck’s engine roared to life as he drove past her on his way to the exit. She backed out of her spot and turned just in time to see James make a right and join the flow of traffic. She threw her car in gear, stopped, and took a deep breath.
The way home was left. She turned right.
Chapter Seven
