Page 2 of Gwen's Delta
The bell over the front door chimed. Assuming it was Mr. Hopper, one of their regulars, Gwen called out. “I’ll be right with you.”
Mr. Hopper often came to the bookstore to chat with Gramps and rarely bought anything.
“No problem. If it’s okay, I’ll just look around?” a deep voice replied.
Not Mr. Hopper. Gwen looked up from the computer and stared into a pair of gorgeous, caramel-brown eyes. As her gaze traveled over his tall, muscled body, a bolt of electricity sizzled through her and rendered her speechless.
“So, it’s okay that I look around?”
“Ah, sure, no problem. Let me know if you need anything.” Ugh. She sounded like one of those empty-headed women she despised, breathless and raspy. What the hell was wrong with her?
After he flashed a bright smile that sucked all the air out of her lungs, he wandered toward the shelves of rare books. As Gwen leaned over the counter to check out his jean-covered ass, she almost fell over. She grabbed the edge of the desk just before the stool tipped over and dumped her on the floor. Unfortunately, Grams saw the entire thing as she returned with the lemonade.
“What on Earth?” Grams asked as Gwen adjusted the stool.
Heat flooded Gwen’s face as she mumbled, “Nothing, it’s nothing. I just slipped while reaching for the pen. No biggie.”
Of course, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous chose that moment to step out from behind the row of bookcases. He had to be at least six feet tall. A dusting of gray hair tinged the temples of his wavy, chestnut-brown hair. Gramps would say he was built like a brick shithouse and solid as a rock. His black T-shirt strained against his broad chest and muscled arms. As her eyes continued down to his waist and long, jean-clad legs, she imagined they were as muscled as the rest of him.
Grams’ eyes practically twinkled as she grinned. “Well, he looks promising.”
Gwen shook her head and rolled her eyes. Grams might be getting older, but she didn’t miss a thing. Not that Gwen blamed her as she wiped her damp palms on her jeans and tried to slow her breathing.
As he approached the desk, she took a drink of the lemonade, hoping the cold liquid would help ease her reaction before he noticed. It didn’t work, not even a little. She’d need a lot more than a cold drink to ward off the sexy that oozed from the man in front of her.
Even with the extra height she had from the stool, he towered over her. His light-brown eyes danced with amusement. Damn, he’d realized she’d been staring at him.
“Can Gwen help you find something?” Grams asked before Gwen could open her mouth.
Mortified, her cheeks burned, and she wished the floor would open and suck her down into the basement. In her defense, he’d been the first man younger than sixty she’d seen in over two months.
“Gwen? Really? And you work in a bookstore named Camelot?” the man asked as he cocked his head with interest.
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that question. As she met his brown eyes that reminded her of molten milk chocolate with a caramel twist, the words caught in her throat.
Grams elbowed her in the side, and she could almost hear her say, “See, he’s interested.”
“Yes, Guinevere actually. My family loves Arthurian legends, and after they got married, my grandparents opened the bookstore. We’ve been open for about sixty years now,” Gwen said after catching her breath.
“How cool is that? I guess I’m in the right place then. Arthurian tales are some of my favorites stories.”
His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. What was it with this guy? “Mine, too. I grew up hearing most of them. What brings you in today? Is there something we can help you find?”
Now that he was closer, she saw the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and he looked tired. From the way he held himself, she figured him for military, probably stationed at Ft. Hood since it was about a half-hour away.
“I found the store online, and when I realized how close it was, I had to come and check it out. Collecting old books is a weakness of mine.”
“I bet it’s his only one,” Grams whispered into her ear.
His warm, contagious laugh took her by surprise. “Thank you, ma’am. But I’m not sure my teammates would agree.”
Gwen’s cheeks had to be all shades of pink as the heat slid up her neck. She would have to kill Grams later. “I’m sorry. My grandmother is old and losing her social graces.”
“I am not. I’m Rebecca Dedmond, but call me Becca. My husband and I opened the bookstore,” Grams said, as she reached across the desk to shake his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Dedmond—uhh, Becca. I’m Luke Forest, but most of my friends call me Merlin.”
“Merlin? Really? Why is that?” Grams asked and winked at Gwen.
