Page 23 of The Secret Librarian
She might have been engaged to be married once, but she certainly didn’t have experience in being around so many members of the opposite sex.You’re alright, Avery. Just look for Tom and everything will be fine.She sighed. Her internal pep talk wasn’t working.
The trouble was that she couldn’t see Tom anywhere through the haze of smoke, which lingered in the air as if men had been in the bar smoking all day and the place had never been aired out. She shifted on the spot, keeping her chin high in an effort to at least appear confident as she glanced around the tables and then at the few men seated at the bar. He was nowhere, and if he was keeping an eye out for her like he’d promised to, he was doing a very bad job. Either that or he was already drunk and had forgotten all about her.
Avery decided that her best option was to order herself a drink, to at least give her something to do while she surveyed the room. The bartender made his way down to her almost immediately when she lifted her hand, and she ordered a soda, not sure what else she was supposed to drink in a place like this, having decided to wait for Tom until she tried anything alcoholic. But the damp line of sweat across her top lip didn’t abate when she sipped her drink and turned to look around again, torn between wishing she’d never agreed to meet him here, and feeling thrilled at the prospect of being somewhere so thoroughly exciting.
Someone moved in beside her at the bar, to her right, and Avery glanced to see who it was. She quickly looked away though, immediately recognising the handsome man from her first day in Lisbon, the one she’d bumped into on the street, and she was still embarrassed that he’d seen her twirling around like a girl.
Avery took a quick sip of her drink, even more flustered than before, and then immediately felt as if he were watching her. She angled her body slightly so that she could see him from the corner of her eye, and she realised he was most definitely looking at her, seemingly without a care for being discreet.
‘Gin and tonic,’ he said, leaning casually against the bar as he held up his hand with two fingers raised. She wondered who else he was ordering for.
‘Relax,’ he murmured, sliding one of the drinks down the bar to her when his order arrived. ‘You’re being too obvious, you need to loosen up a little.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Avery wished her cheeks wouldn’t set to fire so easily.
‘Look around,’ he said, gesturing with his hand. ‘How many locals do you see?’
Avery tried to feign innocence, wishing she’d received training in Washington about what to do in situations such as these instead of being told that she wasn’t a spy so she was simply to be herself.She racked her brain, but came up with nothing, other than hearing Kilgour in her mind saying:‘Always tell the truth as much as possible.’If this man asked her questions about why she was there, she had little to hide. That was what she was supposed to remember.
Avery stood a little taller, although it wasn’t much good given her height difference with the British man beside her. He was tall and lean, dressed in a dark suit like the rest of the men at the hotel, but somehow standing out all the same.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, keeping her voice as level as possible as she attempted to slide the glass he’d ordered for her back down the bar. ‘And I’m quite capable of buying my own drinks, thank you.’
‘No one comes to the Hotel Avenida and drinks soda,’ he said, nudging it back in her direction. ‘But I promise not to buy you another, if that helps. It would be a shame for this one to go to waste.’
Avery relented and picked up the drink, taking a sip. As much as she didn’t want to accept it, she also needed something to do to give her time to right herself, not to mention settle her nerves. She had no idea what she’d done wrong, what she’d said to give herself away, but somehow she was being too obvious, and all she’d done was walk into a hotel bar. Had this man followed her? It suddenly seemed too much of a coincidence that they’d bumped into one another again.
‘Can I give you a tip?’ he asked.
She glanced up at him, wondering if he’d had too much to drink or whether he was always in the business of talking too much to women he met at the bar.
‘I’m not sure what advice you think I need when you don’t even know my name, but certainly, go ahead. You seem rather taken with speaking your mind.’
‘It always pays to ask the doorman on the way in who’s ordered champagne,’ he said, his voice low as he leaned in closer to her. ‘You see, whoever orders a celebratory drink was the winner of today’s battle.’
Avery’s heart started to beat a little faster as she interpreted what he was telling her. Why was he not even being discreet about it! ‘You’re a spy?’ she asked.He’s a British spy?
‘No, my dear, I’m ajournalist,’ he said with a wink. ‘And you are ...?’
‘A librarian,’ she said, hearing the shake in her own voice.
‘Am I the first person you’ve told your cover story to?’ She bristled at his laughter. ‘Because you’re not terribly convincing, even though part of me thinks you could be telling the truth.’
‘I am a librarian! I’m in Lisbon to collect publications of importance for the Library of Congress, to ensure we preserve history.’
He shrugged. ‘You say you’re a librarian, you’re a librarian. Just like I’m a journalist. We all have to be something in this town.’
Avery took a gulp of her drink and regretted it almost immediately. It made her feel giddy the moment she swallowed it.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re trying to insinuate, or why you’d think I have a cover story,’ she said, anger tainting her voice. ‘But I’m the most librarian of librarians. I have a degree from an Ivy League university, I’ll have you know, and I’m very proud of it.’
She cringed.The most librarian of librarians? Why couldn’t I have come up with something more compelling than that!
‘Better,’ he said, downing his drink and ordering another. ‘You sound far more convincing when you’re cross, by the way.’
Avery’s fingers tightened around her bag and she went to turn, but the British man straightened and reached out, his hand covering her elbow for just long enough to stop her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s been a long day and I couldn’t help myself,’ he said, holding out his hand to her. ‘James Anderson.’
