Page 7 of Daddy's Little Librarian
Monday really had ceased to be subtle about it, and now so too had his Grams.
She hadn’t just set him up. She’d set him up on a booty call.
Chapter Four
It sounded bad even to her own ears, but Scotti was so rattled she couldn’t think of another way to say it. “She said you can stay at my place for a while.”
He blinked, his face completely devoid of any discernable expression. “I beg your pardon. She said what?”
“But now I’m having second thoughts,” she stammered, heat burning a slow flush up into her cheeks because of how he kept staring at her. “I really don’t want you to get hurt.”
He was so good-looking, so built. When she’d touched his side, his skin had been soft, and warm, and muscularly hard just underneath the velvety-smooth surface of him. He even smelled good, like old spice and coffee and, oddly, French fries.
She loved French fries.
He arched his eyebrow. “You don’t want me to get hurt?” He stared at her with no expression on his face and arms as thick as small tree trunks, folded across his chest. It felt like forever before he shook himself out of his thoughts and said, “I don’t know what the both of you have plotted out, but I don’t think I want any part of it.”
It was weird, and she didn’t understand why, but when he stepped toward her, for the smallest half-second, she felt like she was trapped in this room with Gopher. Her flinch was immediate, and he stopped coming when she flattened herself against the door, her hands flying up to stay him from coming any closer.
He stopped. She still couldn’t read his expression, not when he looked at her hands, and still not when his gaze rose back up to lock on hers again.
He wasn’t being threatening. She didn’t have any reason to be scared of him. She offered another shaky laugh, trying her very best not to be scared.
“I’m sorry.” She patted the air, still scrambling to figure out which would be the bigger mistake: hiring this man to protect her, or not hiring him.
“For what?” he asked, even more cautious than before.
“Because I’m explaining this so badly. Look,” she blew out a calming breath and tried again. “I would like to proposition y—” she caught herself, shook her head and changed her mind, “N-not proposition, per se. I mean, I want to hire you.” She looked at him hopefully. “For your services,” she expanded her explanation when he only stared, both eyebrows arching high.
“All right.” Clearing his throat, he unfolded his arms long enough to take hold of her shoulders. His tone softened, “I don’t want you to take this at all personally, because you seem like a very nice lady. But I don’t think I’m interested.”
Desperation mixed with the knots in her stomach, twisting at her insides until she felt sick from the pressure. “I can pay you. I can. I-I took everything I could out of my savings. I wouldn’t expect you to do it for free,” she protested on his behalf, her desperation only sharpening its teeth when he shook his head. “Your time and skills are worth compensating, I understand that!”
“What the hell has my grandmother been telling you?” he blurted, then quickly held up a silencing hand. “No. Scratch that. I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter anyway; the answer is still no.”
“Please, I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“As beautiful as you are?” She recoiled, stung when he actually laughed at her. “I highly doubt that.”
She flattened herself against the door. “I am begging you!” Sadie hadn’t said he would be this hard to convince. If only she’d known, she’d have been better prepared. She’d have grabbed her phone from her purse so she could show him the pictures. She’d have brought her copies of the police reports. She’d have got down on her—Scotti dropped to the floor, clasping her hands in pleading. “Please,” she tried again. “You don’t understand how desperate I am!”
“Try doing two years.” Bending, he caught her about the waist and physically picked her all the way up off the floor.
With a startled squeak, she grabbed onto his shoulders as he swung her around and set her down again, this time on the other side of the sink. Out of his way.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate how you’re feeling,” he said. “God knows, I’ve felt this way many times myself. The important thing is not to act on those feelings, particularly not with perfect strangers whom you’ve only just met.”
“We may not have met before, but I do know all about you,” Scotti said quickly. “Sadie’s been telling me about you for years. I know you’ve been away, working for the state. I know your favorite TV show is M*A*S*H. You like your fried chicken extra crispy and smothered in gravy along with your mashed potatoes. You’re a connoisseur of vanilla ice cream. You’ve got a scar on your hip from an accident you were in when you were a teenager. You went to school with Robbie Knievel’s cousin’s son, and you’ve got a Jones for Phantom of the Opera. You’ve even got the soundtrack in four different languages.”
“You forgot married,” he said, as if that should matter.
Scotti flapped her arms in the smallest, most hopeless of shrugs. She was a little disappointed, but not terribly surprised. He was a handsome, sexy-looking man. Of course, he’d be married. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Instead of placated, he actually got annoyed. “My wife might!”
“I don’t see why she should. I said I’d pay you.”
“That’s even worse!” he snapped. “Look, I’m flattered. Really, I am. But there’s just no way in—” He bit off an exasperated sigh, looked up at the ceiling, and then grudgingly back at her. “Look, it’s not you; it’s me.”
