This had to stop. She was thirty years old and it was only in the last few months that she’d ever had an erotic dream. And they all featured one man—Mike Sloan.
Annabelle rolled onto her side and buried her face against her pillow. Her cheeks felt hot, and she was sure her blush covered her from head to toe. The things she did in her dreams shocked her.
After lying there long enough to catch her breath and slow her rapid heartbeat, she finally pushed her hair out of her face and squinted at the clock. Definitely time to get up and shower—a cool one to soothe her heated skin—or she’d be late for work.
She leaned over the side of the bed, plucked her nightgown off the floor and tugged it over her head. Annabelle didn’t understand how it happened, but somehow every time she dreamed of Mike she woke up naked. Something she would never intentionally do. She was so much more daring in her dreams than she was in reality.
She swayed as she got to her feet and steadied herself against the nightstand before stumbling to the bathroom. She didn’t know what to do about her dreams. The only thing that made them bearable was the fact that she only ran into Mike Sloan a couple of times a week. She groaned at the notion of having to face the man day after day. It was unthinkable.
She didn’t need her glasses to know the woman reflected back at her looked as hot and rumpled as she felt. And if the weatherman was correct, today was going to be another scorcher. Even worse was the fact that the library’s air-conditioning had given out yesterday.
Harold Keats, her elderly handyman, was supposed to try to repair it this morning. Given the loud banging sound the system had made before conking out, she didn’t hold out much hope. She turned the shower on cold. She needed all the help she could get.
She stepped under the frigid spray, leaned against the shower wall for support and forced herself to stand there. The water pummeled her aching muscles. She felt as if she’d been hard used last night, even if it was just a dream. The chill was just the jolt of reality she needed for both body and mind. When she’d taken all the cold she could handle, she adjusted the taps until the water was a little warmer.
As she lathered and rinsed, her sense of humor reasserted itself. She laughed out loud and was rewarded with a mouthful of water. Spitting and sputtering, she turned off the shower and climbed out. She dried off and tucked the towel around her body. She was Miss Annabelle Lee Murphy, the old-fashioned librarian. The only chance she had of having a hot encounter in the library stacks was if she caught some hormonal young boy checking out women’s naked bodies in the anatomy section.
She dried her hair and pinned it up in its customary style. The woman in the bathroom mirror was the one she recognized. Her equilibrium restored, she returned to the bedroom to dress and plan her day.
Chapter One
“I heard you were hot.”
At the sound of the deep, masculine voice, Annabelle came up from the floor behind her desk so fast she smacked her head on the corner. “Ouch.” She sat back on her heels and rubbed the back of her head as she glared at the man standing in front of her.
Mike Sloan. She groaned inwardly, resisting the urge to dive back under her desk and stay there. Might have known. It seemed that she was doomed to be at her worst whenever he was around. He leaned against the side of her doorway, all six feet three inches of rugged male perfection.
At least in her mind he was perfect. His face wasn’t classically handsome, but strong. The bump on his nose suggested that it had been broken, maybe more than once, and his soulful brown eyes were deep-set. His hair was a rich brown and just a bit too long for fashion. He usually kept it tied back with a leather thong. And his lips. Yum. Not too thin and not too thick. Just right for kissing.
Oh, Lord, she was just sitting here on the floor, staring at the man. What was it about him that made her lose all common sense?
He’d asked her a question. Hadn’t he? “What was it you said?” She strove for her best librarian’s voice. The one that said “I’m in charge of the situation.” It worked well for six-year-olds. But from the way Mike was grinning, it obviously wasn’t working with him. She sighed, totally disgusted with herself.
His deep voice washed over her. She loved the sound of it, so well suited to seduction. She should know. It was the same voice that seduced her in her dreams several nights a week. She could sit there all day and contentedly listen to him recite the phone book. In fact, she was enjoying listening to him speak so much she’d missed what he’d said yet again.
Striving for dignity, she smoothed back any errant strands of hair that had escaped the strict confines of her bun and tried again. “I’m sorry. The knock on the head must have shaken me up. What was it you said?”
“I said I heard you’re hot, Annabelle.” The half smile on his face was knowing, as if he were somehow privy to her lascivious thoughts.
She could feel the blush cover her cheeks and resisted the temptation to slap her hands over them to hide the telltale color. Oh, my Lord. Had he noticed her watching him whenever she’d run into him in town? Had he guessed that she thought he was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on?
His brown eyes sparkled as they swept her from head to foot. Was it her imagination or had his eyes grown darker since last time she’d seen him? His gaze seemed to linger on her mouth. On her lips. The memory of what her lips had been doing in her dreams hit her full force. They were suddenly parched, and she licked them, trying to ease their dryness. It didn’t help. Her gaze dropped to the front of his jeans before she jerked it back to his face.
Mike stood stock-still in the doorway, his eyes intently following the progress of her tongue across her lips. His entire body tensed. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, seeming like a man nearing the end of his patience. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes again and his body relaxed into its former pose. As she continued to stare, that little grin of his curved up once again. The tension-filled moment passed as if it never happened.
She was getting herself worked up over nothing. There was no way he could possibly know about her dreams—hot, steamy nighttime fantasies that ended way too soon and left her drenched in sweat when she woke. No, he couldn’t know about those. She’d never told a soul. She hardly even let herself think about them, at least not in the daytime. When she crawled into bed at night was a different story.
She knew he was still waiting on her, so she summoned up her frostiest smile. It had been tried and tested and was guaranteed to let a man know she wasn’t interested or amused. “What do you mean by that comment?”
“Just what I said.” He continued to smile as he straightened away from the door frame and sauntered slowly across the room.
It was only when he was towering over her that she was reminded she was still sitting on the floor. It was very reminiscent of her position last night, and again her eyes were drawn to the front of his jeans. She wondered if he could possibly look as good naked in real life as he did in her dreams.
This had to stop. Annabelle ran her hand over her face in an effort to gain control of her emotions. This was the first time she’d had to deal with Mike almost immediately after one of her dreams. Usually, it was days before she had to face him on the street or at some local function. This was too soon. Her body was still thrumming with the pleasure from the night before, and knew that this man was responsible for it. And it wanted more.
Before she could scramble to her feet, he stretched out his hand. “Here, let me help you.”
Annabelle was powerless to resist the lure of his voice and the excuse to actually touch him. She placed her hand in his. It was large and rough with calluses, and a faded scar ran diagonally across the top. The heat from his skin spread up her arm, leaving tingles in its wake.
He gently closed his fingers around hers and tugged her to her feet. She’d never been this up close and personal with him before. His eyes reminded her of chocolate—rich, deep, delicious melt-in-your-mouth chocolate. His eyelashes were sinfully long. They w
ould make most men look feminine, but on Mike they were extremely sexy. She could quite happily lose herself in his eyes.
He radiated a steady warmth that made her want to snuggle up against him, even on a hot day like today. The strength and comfort he unconsciously projected drew her like a lure. She took a deep breath and then wished she hadn’t. He even smelled hot—a combination of woodsy soap and masculinity.
And she was still clinging to him even though he’d opened his hand. Annabelle hastily stepped back to gain herself some space and, hopefully, some perspective. Taking her time, she smoothed her hair back again and pushed her glasses high on her nose. It was time to stop acting like a ninny. She was a take-charge, competent woman. “I’ll ask you again. What do you mean by that remark, Mr. Sloan?”
Mike tilted his head to one side and studied her intently, like she was some puzzle he needed to solve. She was beginning to feel more than a little confused. “The air-conditioning,” he explained. “I heard it broke. I came to fix it.”
Now she was really embarrassed. How could she even for a moment have misinterpreted his meaning? A man like him would never be interested in a woman like her, at least not in a sexual way. If she attracted a man at all, the relationship never went anywhere. They always ended with her becoming nothing more than a friend, a buddy, someone to talk to. It was time to forget fantasy and get back to business.
“Harold Keats usually takes care of this kind of thing. What are you doing here?” She really was more comfortable with the retired Mr. Keats, who supplemented his income by fixing things for the library. Personally, Annabelle thought he did it more because he was lonely and not for the money. She didn’t mind. He was always cheerful and knew all the goings-on around town. He kept her well informed about local events, but always the facts and never malicious gossip.
“Harold had a slight accident.” When Mike saw the look of concern on her face, he added quickly, “But he’s fine.”
Annabelle sank into her chair and motioned for him to take the one across from her. “What happened?”
Mike settled his large frame into the wooden chair, causing it to creak in complaint. It was more of a casual sprawl actually. He kicked his long legs out in front of him and laced his fingers together, resting them on his flat stomach.
“Harold slipped getting out of his shower this morning and sprained his ankle. His sister took him to the hospital.” Mike crossed his arms over his chest, bringing her attention to his hard biceps. “He’ll be fine, but he’ll be laid up for a week or two. In the meantime, I’m here to fill in for him.”
Annabelle sat back in her chair, her fingers clenching the armrests in a death grip. This could not be happening to her. She couldn’t take a couple of weeks of close contact with Mike. He made her hot and uncomfortable when he was just sitting there with his muscular arms crossed across his massive chest. Working with him every day, trying to hide her feelings for him, would be the death of her. He’d be bound to notice her discomfort, and then where would she be?
She could just imagine his look of pity when he realized the staid librarian had the hots for him. She was thirty years old, but except for a six-month relationship in college that had been tepid at best, she had little to no experience with men, and especially not one as potently sexy as Mike.
“I’m sorry about Harold, but you don’t have to take his place. There’s really nothing that can’t wait until he comes back.”
“It’s as hot as Hades in here, Annabelle. I figured you and the library patrons would appreciate a little cool air.”
He looked at her as if daring her to dispute him, and the worst part of it was that she couldn’t. She nodded, conceding him his point. “All right, but just the air-conditioning. Anything else can wait.”
“We’ll see,” he muttered ominously.
“You can fix it, can’t you?” She didn’t know what compelled her to ask, but the question was out before she could stop herself.
Mike straightened in his seat and scowled. She squirmed in her chair, not at all comfortable. She had made him very angry and that hadn’t been her intention.
She’d often wondered what it would be like if he’d noticed her as more than just an acquaintance. Well, he was certainly noticing her now and it wasn’t at all pleasant, which went to prove the old adage you should be careful what you wished for.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She didn’t know why she felt compelled to soothe his male ego, only that she did. “It’s just that the system is old and a new one isn’t in the library budget for this year. I’m just hoping it can be fixed. I’ve been sitting in a pool of sweat all morning.”
If she was alone, she would have slapped herself in the head. That knock on the desk must have really scrambled her brains. She should have just blurted out that she probably smelled and was disgustingly damp too. How attractive.
She tried to distract him and make amends for her previous coolness. After all, it looked as if she’d have no choice but to work with him for the next while. “I was just trying to plug in that little desk fan to try to get some relief.”
A smile spread across Mike’s face. “I wondered what you were doing under your desk. But to answer your question, yeah, I can fix it.”
“How come you volunteered for the job? I’m glad you did,” she tacked on quickly when she saw his brows draw together over his eyes. “But why you?”
Mike took his time, picking his words carefully. “Several reasons, actually. First, I’m a friend of Harold and he was worried about leaving you in the lurch. I didn’t want him to worry.”
Annabelle nodded. This was a reason she could accept. Friendship. Loyalty. Both admirable characteristics.
“Secondly, I own my own construction business. We’re a small operation, but first-rate. I’ve always been good with my hands, and I’ve been fixing things since I was a kid. This is my town, so I consider it my civic duty to help out.”
Annabelle nodded again. It confirmed all the tidbits of gossip people had told her about Mike since she moved to Summersville six months ago to take the position of head librarian. He was a good man. A solid citizen and a loyal friend. Someone you could depend on. She would just control her wayward thoughts for a few days and everything would be fine. She paid attention as Mike started to speak again.
“The last reason is the most important one.”
Annabelle leaned forward in anticipation.
“I want you.” Mike stared at her, his eyes hot, his body tense as he delivered his final reason.
Annabelle sat there dumbfounded for a moment. “You want me for what?”
Mike stood and came around to her side of the desk. He placed his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. He leaned closer and spoke softly, but plainly. “I want you in my bed.”
She could not mistake his intent as he ran his tongue over her lips in a sensual glide. When she gasped and they parted, he took advantage and slipped inside. He teased her tongue with his, moving it in and out in a rhythm that mimicked lovemaking.
Seemingly of its own volition, her hand rose to cover the side of his face. He needed a shave. The roughness of his beard stubble against her hand was stimulating. Annabelle could only imagine how arousing it would be if he rubbed his chin over her breasts. Maybe even lower.
His tongue continued to play with hers, teasing until she moaned. It was that sound that brought her back to her senses. She’d never made such a sound before, except in her dreams.
When she pulled back, Mike straightened away from her. “That can’t happen again.” It was an automatic response and Annabelle was almost sorry the moment she made it. How she longed to give in to her feelings for this man. But that way would only lead to heartache.
She was under no misconceptions that a relationship with Mike would last for long. Her past history with men was proof of that. And Annabelle had to live in this town. More than that, she wanted to live here. She loved her job and the friends she’d made and didn’t want to
be an object of gossip and pity.
“It will happen again. That and more.” She wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a threat. Either way, Mike looked incredibly arrogant as he towered over her with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “I know you enjoyed that as much as I did.”
“That’s no reason for it to happen again.” When Mike’s face took on a smug, satisfied look, she realized her error. She hadn’t denied that she liked it. This was like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. She knew men were competitive creatures.
“I’ve got my tools in the truck. I’ll just go get them and get started.” He was almost out of her office when he turned. “We can discuss the rest over dinner tonight.”
He was gone before she had the presence of mind to say no, because she knew that deep in her heart, a part of her was screaming, Yes!
• • •
Mike Sloan strode toward his truck, which was parked just outside the Summersville Library. Only eleven o’clock in the morning and already the day was a scorcher. The heat shimmered just above the pavement and Mike could feel the sweat forming on his brow. But no matter how blistering it was outside, nothing even came close to the temperature inside the library. It was hot. And it was all due to Annabelle Lee Murphy.
When he’d walked into her office and saw her tucked under her desk with her butt in the air, he’d wanted to lock the door to her office, kneel down behind her, and lift up her long floral skirt so he could gain access to what was underneath. It was hard to tell with the shapeless clothes she favored, but Annabelle had a voluptuous figure. This he knew for a fact. He’d made a study of it. Every time he’d seen her since she moved here six months ago.
At first glance, Annabelle seemed ordinary. She was thirty years old. He’d asked Harold, who knew more about her than anyone else in town. She wore her dark hair in a bun and covered her blue eyes with wire-rimmed glasses. Her figure seemed unexceptional. Her smile was inviting. That was at first glance.
Uncovering Annabelle Page 2
