Page 17 of The Secret Librarian
Her pulse raced as she tiptoed across the room to where he’d discarded his clothes the night before, his jacket and trousers flung over the single chair in the hotel room. Camille glanced back, knowing that she was taking a big risk as she reached for the pile of clothing, her breath silent yet ragged. This was the only reason she’d accepted his invitation, and she had to take her chance.
But before she could check the pockets of his jacket, her fingers inches away from the fabric, she heard him stir. It was just the slightest rustle of sheets, but it was enough to unnerve her.
Camille took a quick step sideways and opened the curtains to let a small amount of light filter into the room, her heart thudding away in her chest. If he caught her ...
‘Good morning,’ she murmured, turning around and heading back to the bed, stretching her arms above her head as she pretend-yawned. ‘Did you just wake up?’
Kiefer sat up, his hair messy and his eyes half-lidded. But she didn’t miss the question in his stare, telling her that he didn’t trust her. ‘What were you doing?’
‘I was just peeking through the curtains to see whether the sun was shining yet or not,’ she said. ‘I don’t have a wristwatch to check the time.’
He grunted, and she hoped that he’d bought her story. To distract him, she slid back into bed and leaned down to kiss him. He grabbed hold of her wrist as she did so, kissing her back and then examining her arm immediately after, as if to check whether or not she was telling the truth about the watch. Camille forced herself to hold her smile, as if there was nothing unusual about him doubting her.
Seemingly satisfied, he pushed up until he was propped with pillows behind him. He was incredibly handsome with his thick, dark-blond hair and bright blue eyes, his shoulders broad as he sat before her, but no matter how good-looking he might be, nothing could distract her from who he was. Every time she looked at him, he was a reminder of what she’d lost and what had happened to France under Nazi occupation.
‘Come here,’ he said. ‘Spend the morning with me in bed.’
‘I wish I could,’ she murmured, leaning in to kiss him one last time, but quick to evade his hold on her. She smiled down at him, her long hair falling over her shoulder.
‘What’s the rush?’
‘I have a bookshop to open,’ she said. ‘And I need to bathe and change my clothes first. I can’t exactly turn up smelling of my lover and dressed like this, can I?’
‘You’re certain you can’t take the day off?’ he said, looking most put out.
‘I’m certain,’ she said. ‘Maybe another day.’
‘What if I came and helped you? I could stack books or something.’
‘Help me? What a waste of your day off that would be,’ Camille said, immediately suspicious of why he’d want to spend a day in her shop with her. Only the smallest part of her believed it was because he wanted to be with her, even though there was a chance that he was simply being kind and liked her company. More likely he wanted to spy on her or her customers.
She smiled and turned, going around to his side of the bed so he could zip up the back of her dress for her. His kindness towards her was at odds with the man she expected him to be, and she always found that she was reminding herself of who and what he was.
‘Can I offer you my jacket to walk home in?’ he asked.
Camille faltered, not expecting such thoughtfulness from him. ‘Thank you.’
She turned, still barefoot, and reached for the jacket he’d left on the chair, but Kiefer was too fast. He was out of bed and crossing the room with a speed that surprised her, taking the jacket and emptying the pockets. She saw two folded pieces of paper and a card, along with a carton of cigarettes and matches, and she wished she’d been able to go through his things before he’d woken. It was even worse knowing there had possibly been something in there to discover.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, skimming a hand down her side and over her hip, before holding the jacket for her to shrug into. Camille spun around and looped her arms around his neck, kissing him slowly on the mouth, knowing that the key to his heart was to make him feel wanted. She’d already gone so far, which meant she needed to keep up the pretence.
‘Perhaps you could come past the bookshop this afternoon?’ she asked. ‘I’ll have your jacket waiting for you.’
Kiefer made a sound in his throat that she took as a yes, given the hungry way he was looking at her.
‘I have a newspaper coming in that you might be interested in, too.’
His eyebrows raised. ‘The Times?’
She tapped her nose. ‘It’s a secret. But visit me and I’ll have it for you.’
‘In exchange for borrowing my jacket?’
Camille grinned. ‘Well, there was something else I hoped you might be able to procure for me, in exchange for the very best British papers,’ she said, knowing she was taking a risk by asking anything of him, but doing it anyway. After spending the night with him, she was hoping he’d be more pliable. ‘Although I do appreciate the jacket, regardless.’
He turned and reached for his cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. Camille nodded when he offered it to her, taking a long inhale and slowly blowing the smoke out before passing it back to him. His eyes were narrowed, but she could see the beginnings of a smile playing across his lips.
‘A diamond? A fancy wristwatch?’ he asked. ‘What bauble are you coveting?’
