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He waited for her to turn the lights off before he got up and made his way down the aisle between the tall stacks to her. She knocked her purse off the desk and then when she picked it up, she dropped it again. Absinthe recovered it and handed it to her. That was absolutely, entirely unlike her, especially the fact that she hadn’t caught it before it hit the floor. He’d seen her catch dozens of books and other objects over the last six weeks even when others had dropped them.
Scarlet took the purse with a rueful expression. “I’m a little nervous,” she confessed, not looking at him. “I don’t go out very often.”
He’d already guessed that. He also was very sure she was afraid of someone. “Does your family live here?”
He held the door open for her. He wasn’t used to making conversation with an ordinary citizen, and certainly not one who made his cock feel so diamond-hard he was afraid he might not be able to walk. Wasn’t that a perfectly ordinary question? One any man might ask a woman on a first date? Date. Hell. He didn’t date. He’d never been on a date in his life.
She had dropped back, not walking with him, and he just stood there, waiting for her to exit. Scarlet’s gaze slid up and down the street before she reluctantly stepped outside and allowed him to close the door behind her, take the keys from her hand and lock it, and then hand them back to her.
“No, but my grandmother did. I used to visit her here. I had a lot of good memories, so I came back and was able to get the job at the library. What about you?”
He shook his head. “No, but now I live in Caspar, which isn’t all that far from here.” It was by some people’s standards, but he found it peaceful riding his motorcycle, and the roads were perfect for cruising between the coast and inland, so distances didn’t matter to him.
Her face lit up. “I’ve been to Caspar. It’s on the coast, right? I love it there. The sea is always changing. One day it will be quiet and calm, and the next, it’s wild and crazy. You’re lucky to live there, although I imagine there aren’t very many jobs available.”
Was there a wistful note in her voice? He hoped so. He needed the stars to align and let him have this miracle of a gift. He needed her in his life. He just had to find a way to make it happen and have it be real. He was most afraid of that—needing her too much and creating a false relationship.
He opened the door to the restaurant for her, scanning the room quickly for potential trouble before allowing her to do the same thing while he turned back toward the street and gave that another quick once-over. Certain no one was paying attention to either of them, he closed the door and followed his librarian’s amazing ass. She was in a black skirt with small white polka-dots scattered over it. The material clung to her curves. He appreciated that particular skirt very much.
Absinthe held the back of her chair for her, ignoring the waiter, who looked as if he might conk him on the head and abscond with the girl. She looked regal as she took the seat, smiling up at Absinthe, nearly taking his breath away. Whatever it was, she had affected him like some kind of aphrodisiac. Her small teeth. That mouth, with her full, pouty lips that were made for a man’s dirtiest fantasies. He hadn’t had them until she’d come along. Not like this. Mostly he’d had nightmares. The erotic, very graphic dreams were a welcome change.
“Are you a wine drinker?” Absinthe didn’t know the first thing about wine. He could make her any kind of drink she wanted, or talk beer, but wine eluded him. If she loved wine, he was going to be taking a crash course. It wouldn’t take him long to catch up.
She shook her head. “I actually don’t drink very much. Once in a while, if it’s really hot out, I’ll have an ice-cold beer. But other than that, it’s a very occasional drink, and usually I go for something girly like a cosmopolitan.”
“I don’t drink wine,” Absinthe admitted. “Like you, I’m not a big drinker, but mostly that stems from wanting to be alert all the time.”
“You don’t put your feet up, relax and have tons to drink?” There was the merest hint of amusement in her voice. Mostly she was serious.
He loved the look on her face when she gave him her full attention. He focused completely on her once he was certain the few couples already eating or waiting to be served weren’t in the least interested in them.
“No, that wouldn’t work for me. I do like to put my feet up though,” he admitted. “I’m going to be very up front with you.” It was confession time. If he didn’t say it straight up, she’d find out anyway. “I’m not good at this. I never know what to say, and I come off stilted and awkward, but I don’t want to be that way with you.”
Her green gaze was hard to stay still under. She seemed to see right through his skull into his mind, where chaos reigned—thanks to her.
“I’m not so great at this, either,” she declared. “I guess we’re going to have to learn. I’m very competitive, and I have a fast learning curve. Very fast. Wait.” She frowned at him. “You weren’t reading a self-help book on dating, were you?”
“Do they have those in the library?”
Her lashes swept down and then back up. A small smile teased the curve of her mouth, causing his heart to accelerate. He found himself staring. Shit. He was going to lose before he got started because he couldn’t stop staring at her.
She laughed. “I’m not telling you. I’ll read them and turn into a scintillating conversationalist in minutes, leaving you in the dust.”
He instantly learned three things. There were multiple self-help books on dating, she read extremely fast and she really was competitive. He flashed a small grin, looking at her with hawklike eyes, giving her the predator look just for a moment. Just to see the shiver that crept down her spine.
“I’ll have to be there first thing in the morning, before your shift.”
“You know my shifts?” The smile faded, and she sounded uneasy.
He shrugged. “How was I going to ask you out? I went multiple times without seeing you, so clearly you had a shift and only came into the library during those times. I kept having to trade work with friends and drive here from the coast, so I found out when you worked. I came as often as I could and just waited until we’d established that a very tentative woman can charm the socks right off a shy man any day of the week.”
“Is that what we established?”
Her laughter got him every time. He found himself actually relaxing. The waiter hovered, and both guiltily studied the menu. She ordered a pasta dish and he ordered a steak. Fresh-baked bread was put on the table and he suddenly realized he was very hungry.
“I watched you right back,” she admitted as she buttered a small piece of bread. “You’re quite fascinating.”
“I am?”
“The way you read. Even the books you choose. They’re reference books on just about every subject. Three were language books. All on Hindi. Are you planning on going to India?”
He shook his head. “I like languages. I study the various ones to see how alike they are, and how different. There are at least seven hundred twenty dialects spoken in India, but most speak one or more of the official twenty-two languages.”
“Do you speak other languages?”
“Yes, I’ve studied them so much over the years, I’ve picked them up. Some more than others. You know how some people are good at mechanics? I’ve got a gift with languages. I can pick them up easily.”
“How did you learn to read so fast?”
She really had been watching him. He liked that, although it could be dangerous.
“I started practicing when I was really young. I practiced every single day for hours. I have a gift there as well. I read and absorb very quickly now, and I never miss a day that I don’t keep up the practice. I like books.”
“That’s so awesome that you started so young. I read this really cool article on the Internet about speed-reading and how to comprehend what you were reading at the same time,” she explained. “It’s funny that you speed-read, too. I started practicing about seven years
ago. It comes in handy when you want to learn about various subjects.”
“That and YouTube.”
She nodded. “Right? I’ve found help from a tremendous number of videos. I rent this little house out in the middle of nowhere and it’s always falling apart. Repairs are my responsibility, so I just read or YouTube whatever I need.”
She was so fucking perfect for him. She made him ache inside. It was a good kind of ache after a lifetime of nothing but bad.
“Tell me about this boy you work so much with. Tom. He seems like a nice kid. What’s his story? You work with a lot of the kids, but he seems very special to you.”
She shrugged and buttered another piece of warm bread. He liked that she didn’t stint on the sweet, salted butter and worry too much about her figure. She had curves and he wanted her to keep them.
“He’s a nice kid. He has a great mom. Single. She works all the time. She came in once to thank me for helping him and even brought me some cupcakes she’d made. They were delicious.”
She flashed him a grin that said he’d missed out. His cock jerked hard at that mischievous grin. He could fall hard for her. He thought maybe he already had. Six weeks staring at her and she’d cast her spell.
“He was deaf the first few years of his life and then they operated on him, but he’s had trouble hearing sounds correctly and so has been slow reading and identifying words. He fell behind and she can’t help him because she works nights and isn’t home with him.”
Scarlet shrugged again but he had the feeling she wasn’t as casual as she tried to sound. She was upset on the boy’s behalf.
“He puts in the time, but he needs a tutor. I work with him after hours sometimes and he’s catching up now. He’s getting it.”
He knew immediately she was tutoring him as well as working with him in the library. He didn’t bother asking but knew she didn’t get paid for it. She didn’t want him to ask. He liked her all the more for it. He dipped his bread into oil and balsamic. “I’m glad the kid’s picking it up and that he wants to learn. That’s really what it takes, the desire.”
“You know what I do—the library. What do you do?”
He made a point of sighing. “I was afraid you’d ask. It’s very boring. I’m an attorney.”
She stiffened. She tried not to, but she did. He could see she had a major aversion to anyone with his particular career choice. He had thought perhaps it would gain him some points, but he just lost any advantage he might have had.
“Hate it. Don’t work much. Looking for another career. Kind of fell into it because I like to debate but feel like criminals always get off and no justice is ever served. So, I’m kind of a lousy attorney.” He kept his voice low and pushed a little persuasion into it. Just the slightest to see the effect on her. She was different. He’d noticed that right away when he was with her in the library just observing her, and then later, when he would ask for various books.
She was susceptible to his voice, and yet he could see she could build up a resistance to things fairly quickly; she reacted so fast. He wasn’t going to let her find a way to stop his subtle influence on her until he had already managed to get her to fall completely under his spell. He intended to put everything he had into this war and win. She already admitted she had a fast learning curve. She had gifts, the same as he did, and they were strong in her, already developed. He had to be cautious. This was one war he was determined to win.
Scarlet visibly relaxed a little, taking a breath, studying her bread before she took another bite and washed it down with a sip of water. “What kind of lawyer are you?”
He shrugged. Now that was a very good question. He was whatever he had to be. In the days of specialization, Code’s paperwork was invaluable. Absinthe’s ability to devour law books and keep up with the latest on whatever was needed for Torpedo Ink was equally as valuable. “I’m kind of a jack-of-all-trades, the fill-out-papers boring kind of work.”
She relaxed even more. “Do you have your own practice?”
He nodded. “I get by. It’s not my passion though.”
“What is?”
He wanted to say he’d walked into the library and found it, but he knew that wasn’t going to fly. “Books. Languages. The written word. Dead languages. History. Art. Martial arts from around the world. Legends. Weapons. Poetry.” That was all true. He didn’t bother to hide the enthusiasm because he actually felt it and that was who he was. If he wanted the real her, she had to want the real him.
A slow smile spread across her face. “You are an amazing man. I can’t imagine you as a lawyer.”
“Neither can I,” he agreed. “I should have been a librarian, although I did volunteer in a library once. I read all the books and then had to quit.” That was sort of true. He worked there, read as many of the books as possible, assassinated a member of the ministry and then returned to Sorbacov’s hellhole. That had been in Russia. “Do you like the outdoors?”
She nodded and looked up as the waiter returned to place a salad in front of her and then one in front of Absinthe. The waiter stood a little too close to Scarlet, and she shifted in her chair slightly, edging away from him. She waited until he was gone before she spoke.
“I actually prefer to be outdoors if the weather’s good. Well,” she hedged. “Sometimes I find the most amazing places and take a book when it’s storming just to be outside when it’s raining. I love storms.”
She was perfection. Who knew that it was possible to have a woman be perfection for him? He hadn’t thought it was. He hadn’t thought one was made for him. He could look at her all day. He knew he could because he had. He’d sat in the library and studied every single inch of her body. She was clothed, but often her clothing was tight and moved with her body, and he had mapped every curve, every valley, every sweet inch of her that he could.
“I really love storms as well. I particularly love to sit above the ocean and watch the storms move in while the waves rise up to meet the lightning. There’s something very freeing in the wildness of it.”
She regarded him over a forkful of romaine lettuce. “That’s poetic, Aleksei. I haven’t experienced that, but now I want to.”
“What about motorcycles? How do you feel about them?”
Scarlet took a sip of her water and then smiled up at the water boy who rushed to fill her glass. It was already mostly full. Absinthe thought the boy just wanted an excuse to be closer to her. He couldn’t blame the kid. Even the waiter was trying to find excuses to visit their table. He didn’t have to like it though—and he didn’t. The boy he didn’t mind. She didn’t, either. The waiter was a different story. He actually seemed to brush his body up against Scarlet’s when he got close to her. Absinthe had never been a jealous man, but then he’d never had a reason to be jealous. He wanted her attention centered on him, which was childish. He was a grown man and very confident. He didn’t whisper “go away” to either of the two servers, but he thought it.
“I take it you like motorcycles.”
“You could say I’m passionate about motorcycles. I love the freedom of riding on them. The way the road opens up and you become part of the world around you. You can’t get that in a car or truck. Even a convertible doesn’t give you that same feeling of being part of the landscape and highway around you as you ride. You can see everything. The road stretches out in front of you, and it’s like the entire world is yours to see.”
“You make riding motorcycles sound very different than I ever thought about them.”
“What did you think about them?” He braced himself. Most people were very judgmental about motorcycles and the men and women who rode them. He was prepared for her poor opinion and knew he’d just have to work to change her mind.
She took off her glasses for a moment, blinking at him with her vivid green eyes. She had very long lashes, reddish gold tipped with more gold. For some reason just looking at those lashes framing her large eyes made his cock come to life all over again. She had no idea what th
at meant, as it was unheard-of. The men of Torpedo Ink, his brothers, commanded their cocks. Women didn’t do that. Nature didn’t do that. The reality was, the ability had been beaten out of them so they could be trained to order their erections, to always be in complete control of every sexual response.
Until now. Until Scarlet Foley. The redheaded librarian, complete with her black or purple or red square glasses framing her gorgeous eyes, seemed to have taken command of his body. She was definitely his lady. His literaturnaya ledi, literary lady. He loved that she was as much into books as he was. That she loved the written word and she could read and comprehend what she was reading fast.
“I don’t know exactly, I haven’t been around motorcycles. I think I thought of them as death traps. One accident and bye-bye brain.” She pushed her salad away. She’d eaten most of it. “You don’t like salad.”
He looked down at his plate. “It’s lettuce. Ruffled lettuce, but green all the same. Bugs thrive on this stuff.”
She burst out laughing, and that dark place inside him, which was so solid nothing could penetrate, cracked. It just cracked like an iceberg. The sound of her laughter was incredible. Low. Soft. Intriguing. The tones played over his skin like the dance of fingers. He felt the brush of the notes on his chest and down his spine, the stroke of them on his cock and balls like caresses whispering over him. He wanted to close his eyes, all the better to savor the sensation. He had to file it away to take out later, but he knew he would never forget it. She had given that to him, just as she’d given him the first natural erection he could remember.
“So, you’re afraid of lettuce but not of motorcycles. I suppose, since you put your argument for riding motorcycles so eloquently, I’ll have to concede it sounds pretty awesome, as long as you ride with a helmet.”