Really? That was the first time she’d thought of doing that. Belle didn’t even know if her landlord would be agreeable. Was the cottage even properly insulated? She’d had the heat on a couple of times when she’d first arrived—June nights in Maine could be chilly—and she’d still been cold.
“I think most of the cottages are closed up for the winter. You might get lonely out on the Point.”
“I have Chuck.”
Rob laughed. “Woman’s best friend. There’s plenty of stuff to do if you decide to stay. The library runs several winter programs. You want to turn here.”
“I know the way,” Belle said, belatedly flipping her signal light.
Basket weaving? Great books discussions? Weight Watchers? She might prefer to be snowed in.
She could hear the alarm before they got to the town green. Nobody was around; the bandstand that housed the summer concerts was empty, and Mrs. Brewer must be hiding in her house with ear plugs.
The stone library looked like so many across the country that had been built with Andrew Carnegie’s gift. There was a recent modern addition behind it, but it was sympathetic to the original design. Belle parked in the parking lot and Rob jumped out, clutching a ring of keys.
She followed him to the rear door. He hit a bank of light switches on the wall, but nothing happened.
“No power? What in hell has she done?” he growled.
“Maybe it wasn’t Hailey after all—maybe it was a glitch,” Belle said reasonably. It wasn’t really dark inside—the sun had not yet set—so she could see him as he sprinted down the hall to the security panel in the main reading room. There was more growling as he punched a code in with no results. The alarm was as loud as ever, and Belle stifled her desire to cover her ears.
“I’m going to have to manually disconnect the alarm. The box is in the basement. Wait right here,” Rob said, looking pretty thunderous.
Poor Hailey. Belle sat down in a floral wing chair and admired the neatly-organized shelves and waxed tables. All libraries, no matter where they were, had a familiar smell of books and dust and an aura of vibrant curiosity. Belle loved libraries. She just didn’t want to speak in one next week.
The sound shut off abruptly and some overhead lights flickered and faded out. Rob definitely had some gremlins in the system. Idly, she wondered what his operating budget was. Libraries all over the country were cutting back hours and staffing, just when it seemed that education and civilization were truly in peril. Libraries were not “frills,” they were essential to an informed society. Perhaps she’d make a small donation once her next royalty check arrived.
She heard a curse as Rob stumbled up the stairs. He was armed with a flashlight that he must have had stashed below.
“Sorry about that,” Rob said. “What a racket. My ears are still ringing.”
“The lights came on briefly.”
“I saw. I don’t know what the problem is with the wiring. We had everything updated when the Fuller Wing was added. I checked all the circuits and nothing’s tripped.”
“So it can’t be Hailey’s fault.” Belle was determined to defend the young librarian.
“I would put nothing past her.” Rob shook his head. “But you might be right, loath as I am to admit it. We can’t be open to the public until we get this straightened out. I’ll call the town office first thing tomorrow morning.”
He brushed back a lock of hair and Belle had the opportunity to examine his hand. It was broad, brown, and very capable-looking. Clearly it did more than stamp books. For just a second, she pictured it on her thigh. Her chubby thigh.
Belle shot out of the chair. “Shall I get my tote bag now?”
“Oh, sure.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket again, and she followed him behind the circulation desk. He bent over, jiggling the office door handle. The door swung open with an alarming creak.
“Um, do you want me to drive you home?”
“It’s just a short walk from here. Sorry about our abbreviated evening.”
He was probably about as sorry as she was. Which was not much. They hadn’t even gotten around to mentioning her program next week. Belle decided she’d sent a note tomorrow backing out.
He stood in the middle of the office. It was nasty-neat. One could have eaten off the speckled linoleum floor if one was so inclined. The desk was clean, the blotter mathematically centered, the yellow pencils in a coffee mug sharp enough to stab someone. Both the in tray and out tray were empty, and the computer positively sparkled. No crumbs in his keyboard.
“Huh. Where did she put it?”
“Maybe it’s not here.”
“No, it was on the spare chair just this afternoon. I meant to bring it with me.”
Belle peeked behind the door. “I found it!” She pushed the door away from the bag and it clicked shut. Ooh! Now she was in a compromising position in a closed room, just like in one of her books, except for two walls of windows where anyone could look in. She made herself not smile.
“We’re processing the books that were in it. Thank you for the donation,” Rob said, not sounding entirely sincere.
“You’re welcome. I had extras. Well—” She held out her hand. “Good night.”
He shook her hand firmly. “Good night. Thank you for the ride and the cake and coffee.” He didn’t mention the conversation.
She turned the door knob, but nothing happened. “Is it locked from the inside?”
“Oh, Christ.” She stepped away while he fiddled with the handle, then slapped the glass window. “Not again. We are doomed.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We’ve had trouble with this door. The front one, too. The other day—well, never mind. I’ll call, uh, somebody to get us out.”
“You mean we’re locked in?”
“Looks like it.”
Belle’s heart skipped a couple of beats. It wasn’t as if she was claustrophobic, and there were those windows that overlooked the reading room. It was kind of like a cruise ship cabin with a water view but no balcony. “Can’t you take the door off the hinges or something?”
“If I had a tool box. But that’s in the basement.” He picked up the phone, his hand hovering over the buttons, and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“No dial tone. The phone system is down too.”
“Oh, dear. What about your cell?”
He reached into his pocket, then laughed a little maniacally. “No bars. It’s dead for sure now. I was going to charge it before I left the house but I got sidetracked.”
“Gosh. What are we going to do?”
Rob walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a pint of Allen’s Coffee Brandy. “I don’t have any milk, so we’ll just have to drink this straight.”
Chapter 5
“There’s no excuse for my behavior. None.” Miranda dropped her eyes to the carpet.
But the duke lifted her chin. “I forgive you anyway, my love. And thank you.”
—The First Sin is the Sweetest by Belle Standish
Could this night get any worse? There was no point in hollering and knocking on walls. Deaf Mrs. Brewer was the library’s only neighbor at this end of the green, and she’d probably gone to bed by now with a sick headache from hearing the alarm go off.
They were trapped. In his office. In the dark. Well, it would be dark soon. Right now it was just dim. When was sunset anyway? Was there a convenient moon rising out there somewhere? Rob had the flashlight, but he wasn’t going to shine it on Belle’s face all night long. The battery would die before dawn anyway.
Dawn. Oh, hell. Hailey wasn’t due to come in until noon tomorrow. The Computer Camp kids would arrive at nine to find the library closed. Would someone call and discover the phone wasn’t working? Would a rescue crew turn up from the Town Office? The maintenance guys had spare keys to every property the town owned, and Rob would much prefer to be discovered at 9:30 by them than see the smirk on Hailey’s face at 12:00.
&nb
sp; “You want me to drink that vile stuff?”
“It’s not so bad. It’s the Maine way.”
“We’re really and truly stranded here?” She sounded a little panicked.
“One less thing to worry about—my ‘executive washroom’ is through that door.” But with no electricity, the toilet wouldn’t flush more than once and the water wouldn’t run for long. Maybe they should fill up cups for later.
“All the comforts of home,” she said. “I really can’t believe this is happening.”
“I’m sorry. At least it’s not winter. We won’t freeze to death.”
“Yippee. Your phone is totally dead? You can’t turn it off and then on again? Maybe it’s just, um, sleeping.”
Rob pushed every conceivable button, but the phone’s screen was black. “Nope. No luck.”
Belle sat down on the spare office chair, looking as if it were electric and about to execute her. “Oh, God.”
“It’s not so bad. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he joked.
She hadn’t thought much of his jokes before, and this one landed flat as well. He pulled two pleated paper cups from a wall dispenser and poured the brandy up to the rims. Why not?
“Cheers.”
Belle shuddered but took the cup, and much to Rob’s surprise, downed the Allen’s like it was a shot of tequila.
“Urgh.”
Rob took a sip. “It’s not too bad. I haven’t had this since high school.” He thought about the times he’d gone parking out on Pine Point Road—not nearly enough for a healthy adolescent libido, probably. But he’d been as shy then as he was now. He didn’t have to wonder what had happened to his high school girlfriend—she homeschooled her five kids and came into the library every week with them.
He’d definitely dodged a bullet there.
“I guess it’s time to add an emergency generator to the budget,” Rob said, trying to keep some kind of conversation going. Belle looked a little pale.
She held her cup out. “Hit me.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded and he poured. She drank the second as fast as she’d drunk the first.
“Ohh,” she wailed. “I forgot about Chuck!”
“He’ll be fine. It’s a warm night, and you left him water and food, right?”
“Yes. But he won’t like it.”
“It can’t be helped.” At least she wouldn’t come home to a house full of dog poop.
What would they do until morning? There was no comfortable place to get settled, unless they pretended they were flying economy-class in the two office chairs. Rob had never been able to sleep on planes, however. He took another slug of his drink.
Belle stood up and pointed to the ceiling. “Can’t we send smoke signals or something? Light a match under the sprinkler?”
“The alarm system’s out, remember? All we’d manage to do is set our fingers on fire. Besides, I don’t have any matches or candles in the office. Fire hazard. You?”
Belle rummaged through her handbag. “No. I don’t smoke, and apparently my Girl Scout tendencies have atrophied. But there’s a smushed Baby Ruth bar,” she said, somewhat shamefaced.
“A fine midnight snack.” Or tomorrow’s breakfast. Hopefully not lunch. He pulled open his desk drawer and tossed a granola bar on the blotter. “My contribution.”
“I never want to eat again.”
“You’re not one of those women hung up on your weight, are you? You look pretty good to me.” Jeez, where was this coming from? Men should never, ever even say the word “weight” within a hundred yards of a woman. But it was true—Belle was delightfully curvy. She hadn’t had any of the chocolate cake, though.
“I’ve gained twenty pounds since my divorce. Twenty-two, if you want to be exact.” She walked over and picked of the pint of liquor. “This isn’t going to last long enough.”
“Is it so awful to be stuck with me?” Rob asked, feeling a little hurt. He’d taken a second shower. Brushed his teeth. Been polite. Joked around, even.
“Of course not. It’s just…awkward, not awful. We don’t know each other.”
“Well, we can remedy that. Why don’t we sit down and pretend we’re at—oh, I don’t know—a bar? A party? I’ll be a perfect gentleman and we can get acquainted.” Not that ever had two words to say at anyone in those situations.
“My social skills are nil at the moment. I’m sorry—I’m being kind of a bitch. I’m not usually. Hardly ever.” She poured more Allen’s into her paper cup and sat down again on the extra chair.
Rob followed suit, his desk separating them. For a millisecond, he had a flash of Belle splayed across it, her white shirt and jeans tossed on the floor. Her underwear gone too. He shut his eyes, but she was still inside his eyelids. He had that same peculiar feeling he’d had reading her book. My God. Was he getting an erection? So much for the perfect gentleman business. Good thing half an oak tree was separating them.
“This looks more like a job interview,” she said, smoothing her hand over the dustless desk. He was very particular and cleaned it himself.
“You’re hired,” he quipped.
“But surely you need to know something about me.”
“Well, if Hailey can work here—” he began, then decided not to rag on the poor girl. She couldn’t help it if she was filthy rich, tattooed, and well-intentioned. “All right. I’ll ask the question everyone hates most. What’s your greatest weakness?”
Belle sat back in her chair. “Hm. I want to say banana cake. But I guess I don’t have as much self-confidence as I should. I wouldn’t hire me. I don’t like dealing with the public.”
“But you’re a successful writer!”
“How would you know? You’ve never read any of my books.”
“I beg to differ. I started, um, that sweet sin book last night.” Rob thought he might be blushing and was grateful for the encroaching shadows.
Her mouth opened in the cutest “o.” “The First Sin is the Sweetest? I confess I’m stunned. Did you like it?”
Rob stalled by pouring more liquor into their cups. “I haven’t finished it, of course. But the chapters I read were very compelling. I felt like I was right there.”
“Right where?”
He swallowed a huge mouthful. “In, uh, the duke’s house.” In his bedroom, to be specific. The bed in it held at least four people. That was mentioned in Chapter One. Apparently the duke was a pretty ambitious guy. Four really seemed excessive. All those arms and legs and—
“That Devil fellow,” Rob said hurriedly before he was hit by a thunderbolt.
“Deverel. He’s the most amoral hero I’ve ever written, but readers love him. Everyone wants a Bad Boy to reform.”
Do they? Maybe that’s where Rob had gone wrong all his life. He’d been just too damned good. “Where do you get your ideas?”
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody asks that. The answer? I honestly don’t know. Sometimes I’ll read an article or hear a snatch of conversation. It really is a mystery. Now let me ask you something. Why would I want to work here?”
He’d forgotten the purpose of this fake discussion. “I’m very organized. Your responsibilities would be clearly laid out.”
“Are you flexible?”
Rob stared at her. “Flexible?” He saw himself over her warm naked body in the duke’s massive bed, thrusting deep. She would cry out with every stroke. Yeah, he could be flexible.
“You know, bendy.” She waggled a hand at him. “Fluid. If I had a problem, would you be understanding?”
“That would depend on the problem,” Rob said, mentally withdrawing from the best imaginary sex he’d ever had. He decided to be brutally honest. “No drugs. No drinking. Except for the Allen’s Coffee Brandy at the moment. I don’t want someone undependable here. I need to count on you. You have to come to work in time and be ready for anything.” Like sex on his desk. Sex in the stacks. Sex on the stairwell. Sex pretty much anywhere at all.
WTF? He knew
what that meant without Hailey’s help. Something very odd was happening to his brain and almost every other part of him. Hello, sexual harassment.
Not that he was hiring Belle. She didn’t have an MLS.
“You sound like a demanding boss. I like it.”
It was his turn to be surprised. “You do?”
“Like the Bad Boy, the masterful boss is a very popular hero. I don’t suppose you are a billionaire.”
“Ha. Not even a millionaire. I can do my own taxes.”
I can do anything. Let me show you.
Did he say that aloud? Her blue eyes had widened, and she was licking her lips. Her tongue was pink. Well, obviously. Everyone’s tongue was pink unless they’d eaten some weird candy. Kids came in the library all the time with blue teeth after sucking on prank sweets and tried to gross him out.
Belle had worried her lipstick off, and looked exceptionally kissable. When was the last time he’d kissed a woman? Not a quick peck on the cheek after a ho-hum date or a sloppy smooch from one of his little nieces, but a long, languorous encounter between lips and teeth (not blue) and tongues. It had been a very long while.
This would be a very long night.
“Cheers.” He raised his paper cup, which was losing its integrity. Mindful of expenses, he was always trying to cut corners where he could, but they’d have to replace these cheap soggy cups if they planned to finish off the bottle.
He checked his watch. Not even nine o’clock. More than two-thirds of the bottle was empty already.
“You’re cheering to paying taxes?”
“Sure. Taxes support places like this.” Rob had to argue long and hard with the penny-pinching town selectmen every time he wanted to make the slightest improvements. Thank God for the Fuller family, even if it included Hailey. The addition would never have been built, and he’d be running the whole show alone without time to go to the bathroom.
“You like your job, then.”
“I do. I mean, there are ups and downs”—like getting trapped with a pretty woman by faulty doors—would that be an up or a down?—“but for the most part, I feel I’m making a contribution to my community. Don’t you like yours?”
Belle shrugged. “I used to. I think I’ve lost my mojo after my divorce.”
Welcome to Serenity Harbor Page 28
