by Amber Scott
“Piles of make-up.” Ben went on, explaining how he spotted it, who he figured gave it, etcetera, etcetera.
Sadie half listened, absorbing her surroundings, glimpsing down aisles, listening to shuffling pages, smelling the book-fragrant air. Hearing the thrumming of her heart.
He might be here today. And if he was, she was going to make contact. Because the dream seemed to be begging her to. Because she had to see for herself if it was the same him, namely, if he had wings. Which, of course, was ridiculous. Of course he didn’t have wings.
“Are you coming?” Ben urged from inside the elevator. She had missed the telltale ding. Rubbing at the heat in her cheeks, she joined Ben, careful to avoid the metal lip her toe liked to kiss.
“What’s up with the chipped blue polish?” Ben asked, pushing four. “Don’t go Goth, Sadie. It won’t suit your freckles.”
Sadie looked down. Uh-oh. She hadn’t scrubbed all the oil paint off. She’d better before three. Her sister would just love the idea of Sadie painting again.
“I’ll bet that black eye makes Cynthia’s nose hurt, too,” Ben was saying as the metal cart lumbered upward. “See if she can sniff at me now.”
“Ben, I think she has allergies,” Sadie said, mentally rejoining the conversation.
“Bullshit. She thinks she’s better than me. But look who got clocked. I wonder who did it….” Sadie’s attention wandered.
What the hell would she do if he did have wings, anyways? Run and tell someone? Uh, no. Her belly did a somersault.
The elevator opened. Ben was awaiting further response.
“Really?” she said, struggling to recall what else he’d said. She kept pace with him to the rear office for their first re-shelving load.
“Yes, really….”
Rows of empty computers hummed in the background. Somewhere nearby, someone coughed. Sadie’s eyes scanned for a glimpse of black. He wore black. Black shirt, black buckle-laden boots.
Except in her dreams. Her dreams were drenched in blues, even those of him in bloody battle, red flames licking the edges. Blues dressed in black. Except when he wore nothing at all. Nothing but bare glistening skin and gossamer wings. Heat spread over her neck just thinking of the shimmery things tickling over her arms and thighs as he nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear.
Goosebumps raced over her forearms. Sadie rubbed at them.
“…in the aisles all the time while they think no one is looking. He looks like he could be violent, too.”
Hearing the word ‘violent’ tugged her back to the present.“Who?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Nevermind. You’re distracted. And I know why.”
“You do?”
“Of course. You’re not the only heart skipping beats hoping Angel Eyes will be here again. But once we take in a long drink of him, you head straight up there and see for yourself. It’s her left eye.” He swept a forefinger under his eye with flare. Sadie tried to imagine Ben ever having the opportunity to get a black eye. Not likely. Who could possibly punch such a cherubic face? “You tell me if you don’t see a puffy dark area under all that concealer. Promise?”
“Promise.” She glanced down an aisle, scanning the north end set of tables. Movement caught her eye. A shot of black. Tingles blossomed through her chest and belly.
He was here.
God, if she could tell Ben about the dreams. But she couldn’t. He’d devour every detail, particularly the secret message part. Who wouldn’t? But then he’d give her ‘the look’. That wary stare reserved for the certifiable that Sadie never wanted to witness again. Once in anyone’s life is too much.
“Yes, yes. He’s here,” Ben sang. He picked up his stride, took her forearm and pulled her into the closet sized office. “But I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”
“What? Why?”
“Huh-uh. First, m’lady, I bear a gift.” With a grand flourish, he bowed. Ah, Ben and his whimsy. “Three guesses,” he said.
She didn’t want to play this game. But Ben could be a pit bull with his gossip. “Okay, okay. You talked to him and he fell madly in love with you?”
“I like it, but alas, no.”
She hated this. “You followed him to his hotel and found his plane ticket and he’s leaving today.”
“Better.”
“He was on America’s Most Wanted.”
He crossed his arms, jutted his hip. “Bite your tongue, girl,” he mouthed. “Our boy may be bad, but not criminal!”
Sadie managed to laugh, pulling her favorite, limp-free cart out. “You met Cher and she’s leaving her wigs to you?”
“I wish.” Ben rolled his eyes but grinned.
“I give up. I have absolutely no idea.”
Ben leaned in. “Okay. But I’m warning you. Do not try to kiss me. Promise?”
Sadie nodded, adrenaline sparking in her veins.
“Are you ready?” His eyes glinted, his fingers twittering in the air. “I have his name.” He covered his loud gasp.
“His name? What is it?” Her heart hiccupped into triple time. Her cheeks flushed hot. She would die if anyone else witnessed how much this affected her. Ben binged on her reaction, prolonging the moment.
Before she went to strangle the name from Ben’s writhing body, he spoke. “Elijah. Stokes.”
Elijah? His sculpted features, his mahogany eyes, the shadow of stubble along his angular jaw. The quiet, serpentine way he moved.
She blinked hard, suppressing the urge to clap and squeal in delight. “Elijah Stokes?” Her tone sounded impressively even considering the riot in her belly.
A name shouldn’t mean so much. Yet it did.
Sadie sagged into a chair, struggling to compose herself. She bit her inner cheek. “Elijah, huh?” she said, forcing herself to sound casual.
Those mahogany eyes staring into the ether, his mind snared by some observation within the books he scoured week in and out, strong hands toying with whatever hung from the long gold chain around his neck.
Ben pressed his lips together, nodding, triumphant. “You’re welcome.”
“Elijah Stokes,” Ben affirmed, framing an air name plaque. “It suits him, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.” Now, for the more important question. “Why did you say he won’t be back?”
“Yeah, so, he came in yesterday and I made it my mission. I mean how long can you go on thinking of someone as ‘Angel Eyes’ or ‘Tasty Treat’, right?”
Maybe she’d strangle Ben after all. But she knew rushing him would shut him up. Plus, the name Angel Eyes gave her pause. No wonder she’d given him wings. “He was here yesterday?” Sadie lined her cart, her palms sweating. Maybe Cynthia would add Thursdays to her schedule. If she could get the microfiche machine down.
“Yep. Jealous much?” Ben started on a cart, too. “So, yesterday, I figured if I lingered around him long enough, his girl would say his name.”
His girl? Probably the honey-skinned one with runway legs. Sadie swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Oh?”
“Oh and she was wearing the most divine nude lace-up corset and these velvet jockey pants. Divine. I had to get a closer look. And I figured, if she didn’t say his name, I could go up and ask him, you know, compliment her, segue into an introduction. But I didn’t have to.”
Conversation? Yeah, right. Cajones, Ben did not sport. “So she said his name?” Lovingly? Passionately? Was it too much to hope she wasn’t his girlfriend?
“No. He got a phone call and answered ‘Elijah Stokes’.” Ben paged through a book before sticking it in his cart. “And then she said something about coming back one last time tomorrow, which means today. Come back for what, I couldn’t tell you, but I’ll be trying to find out, if you know what I mean.”
Last night’s hot kisses came into sharp mental focus. Her first cart alphabetized, Sadie hurried to finish the next. Keeping her hands busy tempered her rapid heartbeat.
“So, you’ll never guess who the history departme
nt….”
She tuned Ben out.
She couldn’t lose control over her reactions. She couldn’t let him see how much the idea of never seeing Elijah again panicked her. She couldn’t reveal all those dreams. And because she wanted to keep her only sort of friend, she couldn’t pad his already extensive Sadie files.
The books smelled fusty and good, the plastic covers crinkled against her fingertips. Sadie focused on the smells and the lull of Ben’s voice.
“I’ll start with this up on main,” Ben said, leaving her two more carts to categorize.
Sadie nodded and smiled tightly up at him as he strolled to the elevators. Sadie’s rush returned. The seconds crawled by as she waited for the elevator’s ding, the cart’s clank over the threshold, the groan of moving metal. Forever ended and she pushed the pent up energy from her tight lungs in a loud whoosh.
Alone at last. Well, alone with him—Elijah—at last. Save for the other patrons here and there, or, possibly, his “girl”. A pang shot through her. Was she his girlfriend? Not like Sadie could just go up and flirt with him yet, anyhow. What would she say? “You won’t believe this but I keep having erotic dreams about you. And you can’t keep your hands off me.”
Yeah, right.
Five minutes of composure-gathering later, Sadie wheeled her cart in his direction, determined to do what Ben couldn’t. To do what she previously couldn’t. To take a chance.
Would he notice her first? Maybe he’d look up as she passed and smile. What would she do? Smile back? Wave? What excuse would get her talking to him?
Nothing big. Chit chat. Or a question.
He wouldn’t be back either. Ever. The idea kicked panic into her stomach and determination into her heart.
She’d be med-free within days. Back to the strong woman she was before one minor, totally overblown freak out two years ago. Soon, she’d walk without tripping, speak without stumbling, high kick without falling over.
She’d be Sadie again. Kickass and confident.
She’d have a real shot at Elijah. At life.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Epilogue
Prologue
Chapter One
