by Olivia Dade
He took her hand in his, brushing his thumb over the backs of her fingers. “Which brings me to the second thing. By the end of the night, I mean to convince you I’m that man. I’m the man for you.”
She didn’t attempt to pull her hand away from his. The way he touched her—so gentle, so careful—felt too good. So did his words. God, if only she could believe them.
“Why me?” she asked him, her voice quiet. “I’m a shy librarian. You could have any woman in this room.” She paused. “Except for your mother. And Yolanda and Tasha. I’m pretty sure they don’t want you.”
“Okay,” he said, “that’s the third thing I’ll show you tonight. How interesting I think you are. How sexy. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you the whole night.”
“You didn’t seem to have that problem when I first arrived,” she reminded him.
He shrugged sheepishly. “I know. I acted like a petulant ass. Mom tricked me into being here tonight, and I took it out on you.”
“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “I knew Brenda had dragged you to this stupid event.”
“You see?” he said, smiling at her. “That’s another thing I like about you. You’re smart.”
“Thank you,” she said, embarrassed. “And you weren’t too much of a petulant ass. You mostly just scowled for a while.”
“I apologize, Penelope. No more scowling. I promise,” he said. “Unless you don’t give me a chance. Then I may glare a hole through every person and piece of furniture in this room, maturity be damned.”
She peered at his face. It radiated sincerity, at least to her eyes. Then again, as she’d already noted, she wasn’t exactly the best judge of character.
She looked down for a moment, thinking. If any man could persuade her to break her New Year’s resolution, it was him. From what she could tell, he embodied everything she’d always wanted in a man. Intelligence. Strength. Gentleness. Humor. And, God help her, an absolutely irresistible face and body.
Her ribs expanded with a deep breath, and she laced her fingers through his.
“This will be a new record. I’ve never broken a New Year’s resolution before the New Year actually began.” She watched his eyes light up at her words, the green depths glowing. “But you make a convincing argument. The library can’t afford to replace the furniture you’d destroy with your piercing scowl. Not to mention all the lawsuits from people with glare-holes in them.”
He laughed, and she smiled up at him.
“Okay,” she said. “You win. You have the rest of the night to make your case.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, giving it a soft kiss. “I can’t wait to begin.”
God help me, I can’t either, she thought. I just hope I haven’t made the wrong decision. Again.
6
“Goodnight, honey. I love you,” Jack told his daughter. “Happy New Year’s Eve, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.”
“Love you too, Daddy,” Casey said. “Squishy Turtle says goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Squishy Turtle. Take good care of my sweet girl.”
“I will,” his daughter squeaked in her Squishy Turtle voice.
His ex-wife came on the line. “If you call before ten tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure we’re still at home,” Beth said.
“Will do,” he said. “Happy New Year.”
He disconnected the call and came back out from the workroom, settling himself again in the chair next to Penelope behind the circulation desk. She was watching some of the couples attempt to decipher the scavenger hunt clues, a smile on her face.
“I don’t understand this one,” Skintight Dress told Cologne Guy. “It says to look for a book with this weird opening line. Something about the universe and single men looking for wives.”
Cologne Guy thoughtfully drummed his fingers on his chin. “That sounds familiar.”
Skintight Dress brightened. “Wasn’t it a movie starring Colin Firth?”
“You’re a genius!” Cologne Guy exclaimed. “Let’s find Bridget Jones’s Diary!”
As the pair happily set off to find the next item, Jack saw Penelope’s smile widen. “Do you think they’ll eventually figure out it’s Pride and Prejudice?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not. But they seem to be having a good time, which is the most important thing.” Leaning down, she rubbed the arches of her feet for a moment.
Her shoes rested beneath the circulation desk. They looked brand-new, and he could see the lines they’d left on her feet. “Shoes aren’t broken in yet?” he asked. “Or are your feet just tired?”
“Both,” she said.
She went very still when he bent at the waist, lifting her feet to rest in his lap. Her wide brown eyes met his. He looked down at her feet, so small and pale in his hands, and gave them a firm squeeze. He wasn’t a particularly tall or large man, but his hands still engulfed her. Just as my body would, he thought. When he started pressing his fingers into her arches, he heard her give a tiny moan of pleasure.
His cock reacted immediately, and he discreetly slid her feet slightly to the side of his lap as he continued the massage. No need to scare her off five minutes after she’d agreed to give him a chance.
“That feels so good,” she said, her voice throaty. “Thank you.”
He bit the words burning on his tongue—I could make you feel even better, if you gave me the opportunity—and scooted his chair slightly closer to hers. Sitting so near to her, he could smell her gentle lemony fragrance and see the delicate shell of her ear beneath the soft wisps of her brown hair. Her slim hands rested in her lap, and she looked more relaxed than he’d seen her all night.
“So you know what I do for a living,” she said. “Though, to be fair, my job doesn’t usually involve encouraging people to read aloud about the sex lives of pirates. Tell me more about your work, Jack.”
His fingers involuntarily tightened on her feet, and she gave a little gasp.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
But he was. Just not about her feet. He was considering whether he could tell the truth about himself without risking the privacy of his family. Without her running away from him and from the possibility of a future together. It was a gamble, no matter how he looked at it. And the thought of losing that gamble, of losing her without ever really having had her, made his hands clench into fists.
No. He needed to tie her more closely to him before she knew the truth.
“I’m just your average accountant,” he said. “Nothing too interesting about my job. I work from home, which means my schedule is more flexible for my daughter, Casey.” Just the thought of her put a genuine smile on his face. “She’s four, and a hellion. A great kid. I’ve been divorced about three years now, and we share custody of her.”
“I do storytimes for kids that age. They’re fun, but they can be a handful.”
“Yeah. Do you like kids?” he asked in a carefully neutral tone.
“Sure,” she said. “But one-on-one is easier for me than large groups of them. Thirty toddlers in one place can get a bit overwhelming, especially when glue and glitter are involved. Which is why my price for working tonight was making Angie work my next four Saturdays. I’ll have those entire weekends off. No library. No storytimes. Just me and a pottery class.”
“Pottery? You planning on having sex with a ghost while ‘Unchained Melody’ plays in the background?”
She laughed. “Angie said pretty much the same thing. As far as I know, the materials fee didn’t cover the horny spirits of dead husbands. But if I’m wrong, I’ll definitely let you know.”
Brenda and Carl approached the desk, holding hands.
“I think we got everything on the list,” Brenda said. With his free hand, Carl offered the basket of items they’d found around the library to Penelope.
While Penelope rifled through the basket, checking items off the list, Jack took a hard look at Carl and his mom. What he saw reassured him. The old
er man was looking at Brenda like he couldn’t believe his luck, and she seemed relaxed. Happy. Her green eyes sparkled when she looked at Carl. The evening had removed the last ten years from her face, and she once more resembled the vital woman he’d seen throughout his parents’ marriage.
At the same time as he observed Brenda and Carl, his mother scanned the scene behind the circulation desk. Her gaze sharpened when it hit Jack’s hands, still wrapped around Penelope’s feet. Brenda gave him a questioning look, and he grinned and shrugged.
“You found everything,” Penelope told the pair with a smile. “Congratulations.”
She removed her feet from his lap, slipped on her shoes, and stood up. “Attention, everyone!” she called out. “Brenda and Carl have completed the scavenger hunt, and they win the prize.”
Disgruntled murmurs came from the vicinity of Red Tie, and Jack gave the man a sharp look. The complaints ceased immediately. Brenda patted Jack on the arm, looking proud.
“The photo station is open, though,” Penelope reminded everyone, “and there are still plenty of snacks. In about half an hour, we’ll break out the champagne. Keep enjoying your evening!”
She handed gift cards to Brenda and Carl. “Enjoy,” she said. “You deserve these.”
“So . . .” Brenda eyed Jack and Penelope. “You’re getting to know my son, Penny?”
“A bit. He was just telling me about his daughter and his accounting work.”
At the mention of accounting, Brenda’s head shot in his direction. The pride in her eyes had disappeared, replaced by worry. He could read exactly what those eyes were saying: Are you sure you know what you’re doing? And the honest answer was no. He didn’t. His fumbling attempts to hold onto Penelope had emerged out of pure instinct, rather than certainty.
“Was he?” Brenda said. “I’ve found that his accounting work says a lot less about him than his love of literature. You two should talk about that. Shouldn’t you, Jack?”
“Yes, Mom,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
She glared right back, her eyes sending a new message: Don’t screw this up.
“Shouldn’t you two be taking photos with some of the props?” he asked her. “We don’t want to interfere with your time to learn about each other.”
“Actually, I think the two of us are about to head out. Carl told me all about a lovely restaurant near his house, and it has a New Year’s Eve celebration planned for tonight.”
He frowned. “But we drove together. How will you get home? Do you want to take my truck?”
She leaned over the desk, giving him a quick hug and Penelope a kiss on the cheek. “That’s sweet, honey, but Carl will drive. He has a big SUV, perfect for the snow. You two have a nice night. Don’t worry about us.”
Jack gave Carl a sharp look. “Take good care of her.”
Carl nodded calmly.
Jack turned back to Brenda. “Give me a call when you get home tonight.”
“If I call you when I get home, you’ll be hearing from me tomorrow morning. Maybe tomorrow afternoon,” she said with a grin, and then turned for the door.
He opened his mouth to call after her, but couldn’t figure out what to say. The door shut behind the couple before he came up with anything. He slumped in his chair, and Penelope’s small hand patted his arm in consolation.
Just as he was about to take that hand in his, Cologne Guy approached the desk.
“Penny?” he ventured. “Would you like to take some book cover photos?”
“Ummm . . .” she said.
“She’d love to,” Jack told the other man, and immediately felt Penelope’s betrayed gaze boring into the side of his face. “But she’s already promised to take some pictures with me. I don’t think she’ll have time to work with both of us before midnight.”
Her hand on his arm loosened, and he could see her shoulders slump in relief.
“I’d like to see that,” Cologne Guy said. “Are you coming to the photo area now?”
Shit. Now we’re committed. “Yes,” Jack said. “In just a moment.”
He glanced over at Penelope. She appeared notably unenthusiastic. “Yes,” she said. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you over there soon.”
As soon as Cologne Guy left, she swiveled her chair in his direction. “I’m afraid to see what props Angie provided. Please don’t make me go over there.”
Five minutes ago, he would have echoed her words. Behind the circulation desk, the two of them actually had some privacy, enough to talk and get to know each other. He knew if they ventured into the photo area, that privacy would disappear. He also didn’t relish the idea of other men seeing Penelope in a passionate clinch. It might give them ideas. Especially Cologne Guy, who was proving remarkably persistent.
But now his brain had supplied the image of him tugging his little librarian close. Bending her backward, pressing his body into hers. Feeling every inch of her small frame against his. The prospect sent fire through his veins. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get in front of the camera with her, regardless of who else watched. They might see Penelope in a passionate clinch and want her for their own, but he would be the man holding her. The man staking his claim.
He rose from his seat, taking her hand. “It’ll be fun. Let’s go.”
“Who are you? And what have you done with the grumpy recluse named Jack?” she asked, looking bewildered as he led her toward the children’s area.
When they arrived inside the doorway, they stood completely still for a long moment.
“Well, this is inappropriate,” he said.
She tugged her fingers out of his grip, slapping both hands over her face. Her shoulders shook.
He placed an arm around her back, drawing her close. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “Everyone signed a waiver. No one can sue you. Not even if they get stuck in that...whatever that is.”
Despite his words, he could see her shoulders shake even harder. He pulled her fully into his embrace, gently guiding her head to his shoulder. “No, no, Penelope,” he said softly into her ear. “Don’t be upset. Do you want me to take away all the . . . things?”
She removed her hands from her face and raised her head. “Fuck, no,” she gasped into his ear, struggling to speak between giggles. “I just can’t believe Angie did this. She’s insane.”
He exhaled in relief at the sight of her smiling face. No tears, thank God. He hated seeing anyone cry, but especially someone he . . .
Someone he liked. That’s what he’d been thinking. Nothing else. He looked around himself again. “Kinky.”
“You aren’t wrong.”
“So where do you want to start when it’s our turn? Do you want to grab the harness? The whip?” He grinned at her. “Or maybe you’re more into the leather chaps.”
“I can’t wait to see the reimbursement forms Angie submits for those.” She laughed again. “Let’s choose a book cover first, and then we’ll pick out the props we need.”
He kept an arm around her shoulders as they perused Angie’s suggested covers. To his surprise, other than the couple in front of the camera, he and Penelope were the only people in the area. Not even Cologne Guy was loitering nearby. Everyone else must be eating. Or maybe they were still doing the scavenger hunt, even though his mom and Carl had already won the prize. He glanced around the library, but he didn’t see too many partygoers. Weird.
“We’re almost done over here,” called out Pretend Pirate Clarence, who was currently holding Skintight Dress in a close embrace. “Just a few more shots. I’m getting in character right now. We’re lucky I had an eye patch in my pocket!”
“Very lucky,” Penelope said, biting her lip. Her shoulders were shaking again.
“Yarrrrrr!” shouted Clarence. “Do ye mind helping with yonder remote control?”
Jack stepped forward and took it from Clarence’s hand.
“A hearty pirate thanks to you, matey! And ye too, lassie!”
Penelope stood on tiptoe to whisper to him. �
�He must be a Scottish pirate. Either that, or he thinks I’m a dog who saves children from wells.”
“Crikey, this position be hard on my buccaneering back!” Clarence complained.
“Or maybe he’s Australian,” she breathed into his ear, shooting a bolt of heat to his groin. “We’ll know for sure if he says ‘G’day, mate’ or mentions putting shrimp on the barbie.”
“His book cover has nothing to do with pirates,” Jack whispered back. “It’s about teenage wizards. No ships. No eye patches. No water. Nothing.”
“Push the button, me hearty!” Clarence called to Jack. “There be a bottle of rum in it for ye!”
Jack dutifully pushed the button a few times. Finally, with a resigned shake of her head, Skintight Dress removed herself from Pretend Pirate Clarence’s arms. Giving Jack and Penelope a little wave, she left the area and began walking toward the snack table. “You coming, Clarence?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Your turn, matey,” Clarence said, slapping Jack on the back. “Get ye some booty.” Then he hustled after Skintight Dress.
I intend to, Jack thought. Believe me.
The entire children’s area was quiet. Only the two of them remained, which suited him perfectly. Both he and Penelope were private people, and he didn’t want her holding back because of an audience.
He turned to Penelope. “So,” he said. “What cover do you want?”
She pulled a book from the pile and handed it to him without a word. He almost swallowed his tongue when he saw it. Well, she’s definitely not holding back, he thought, trying to hide his body’s reaction to the cover image.
“Are you sure?” he managed to say. “It isn’t . . . too much?”
“Not for me,” she said, looking up at him with an innocent smile. “Is it too much for you? If it is, I can always ask him instead.” She nodded toward Cologne Guy, who was chatting with Clarence and Skintight Dress across the library.
He bristled, as he knew she’d intended. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m good.”
