aficionados. As a compromise, she'd offered to help sponsor a "Who Done It" wine and cheese tasting in the store's lounge area, complete with samplings from "mystery" local vineyards whose identities would be revealed at the evening's end.
Marie blew a hard breath and sent a loose lock of hair flying. And to think she'd gotten into the bookstore business because she loved to read! She rarely ever had time for it. Which is why she was so often caught red-handed over her Danish and coffee with something just as steamy as her java.
She paused mid-stride, trying to remember which way she was going. Somehow her eye had fallen on one of those gloriously embossed crimson covers, the kind boasting a manly hero with an admirable show of muscle. The title said something about a pirate and his mistress. Marie studied the male model's tawny ponytail, comparing it to Cecil's. Well, he certainly had Cecil's hair, but the body definitely belonged to...
Marie snatched her glasses off her nose and humphed into the air. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was all he'd had. Yet somehow it had been enough to leave his mark. She'd felt as branded by his smile as by the hottest, deepest kiss. As ravaged by his eyes, as... Marie cleared her throat and placed her glasses back squarely where they belonged. She smiled pleasantly at a passing patron who nabbed the pirate book off the shelf and openly ogled its cover. Then blushed at the thought that she had probably looked just like that only hours ago—right in the center of the spectacle shop.
Chapter Two
David made himself as comfortable as possible at the tiny cafe table. But no matter how he positioned his legs, his knees knocked against the low table top.
A ponytailed man wearing a forest green apron walked over, notepad in hand. "What will it be tonight?" he asked, his light eyes squinting.
David peered over the server's shoulders and into the book aisles. Well, he certainly couldn't order her. How much simpler life would be if you could just ask for what you really wanted. Marie McCloud, please. Single, with a dash of daring.
The waiter impatiently shuffled his feet.
"Coffee?" he asked, flipping his too-long ponytail over his shoulder.
If the man had to wear one, David decided, it would be much to his advantage to shear it an inch or two.
"Sure," David said, lowering his voice. "Say, you know any women in here?"
The waiter shot him a disgusted look.
Well, so maybe he wasn't into women. But, hey, he at least had to know who his coworkers were.
"Decaf or regular," the waiter deadpanned.
David read his name tag. "Look, Cecil."
Cecil raised one skeptical eyebrow.
"It's Cecil, right?"
"If you're in here to read, you're in the wrong section." He jutted his chin in the opposite direction. "Plenty of books over there."
David turned his head just in time to see the swish of a floral print skirt disappear behind the newsstand. His pulse shot up and his internal thermostat skyrocketed. The cold Virginia fall couldn't touch the current fire in his veins.
"I'll give you a minute to make up your mind," Cecil said, turning to go.
"No, wait!" David reached out a hand and the waiter recoiled. Not that it necessarily mattered to David. The only person he cared about right now stood about five foot six and had the smile of a vixen.
"Do you know that woman over there?"
Cecil raised an eyebrow. "You know, there's a ladies' night at the bar down the street..."
"Decaf is fine," David said, pushing back in his chair with a scowl.
What was this guy's problem? All David had done was ask one little innocent question. Okay, so maybe it was two.
Cecil returned quickly with a lukewarm cup of sludge that he passed off as coffee.
"Anything else?" he asked, setting down the ceramic mug.
Nothing, apparently, that this guy would help him with.
David studied the neat geometric patterns on the imitation tile floor, as Cecil tore a sheet from his pad and laid the check on the
Marie blew a hard breath and sent a loose lock of hair flying. And to think she'd gotten into the bookstore business because she loved to read! She rarely ever had time for it. Which is why she was so often caught red-handed over her Danish and coffee with something just as steamy as her java.
She paused mid-stride, trying to remember which way she was going. Somehow her eye had fallen on one of those gloriously embossed crimson covers, the kind boasting a manly hero with an admirable show of muscle. The title said something about a pirate and his mistress. Marie studied the male model's tawny ponytail, comparing it to Cecil's. Well, he certainly had Cecil's hair, but the body definitely belonged to...
Marie snatched her glasses off her nose and humphed into the air. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was all he'd had. Yet somehow it had been enough to leave his mark. She'd felt as branded by his smile as by the hottest, deepest kiss. As ravaged by his eyes, as... Marie cleared her throat and placed her glasses back squarely where they belonged. She smiled pleasantly at a passing patron who nabbed the pirate book off the shelf and openly ogled its cover. Then blushed at the thought that she had probably looked just like that only hours ago—right in the center of the spectacle shop.
Chapter Two
David made himself as comfortable as possible at the tiny cafe table. But no matter how he positioned his legs, his knees knocked against the low table top.
A ponytailed man wearing a forest green apron walked over, notepad in hand. "What will it be tonight?" he asked, his light eyes squinting.
David peered over the server's shoulders and into the book aisles. Well, he certainly couldn't order her. How much simpler life would be if you could just ask for what you really wanted. Marie McCloud, please. Single, with a dash of daring.
The waiter impatiently shuffled his feet.
"Coffee?" he asked, flipping his too-long ponytail over his shoulder.
If the man had to wear one, David decided, it would be much to his advantage to shear it an inch or two.
"Sure," David said, lowering his voice. "Say, you know any women in here?"
The waiter shot him a disgusted look.
Well, so maybe he wasn't into women. But, hey, he at least had to know who his coworkers were.
"Decaf or regular," the waiter deadpanned.
David read his name tag. "Look, Cecil."
Cecil raised one skeptical eyebrow.
"It's Cecil, right?"
"If you're in here to read, you're in the wrong section." He jutted his chin in the opposite direction. "Plenty of books over there."
David turned his head just in time to see the swish of a floral print skirt disappear behind the newsstand. His pulse shot up and his internal thermostat skyrocketed. The cold Virginia fall couldn't touch the current fire in his veins.
"I'll give you a minute to make up your mind," Cecil said, turning to go.
"No, wait!" David reached out a hand and the waiter recoiled. Not that it necessarily mattered to David. The only person he cared about right now stood about five foot six and had the smile of a vixen.
"Do you know that woman over there?"
Cecil raised an eyebrow. "You know, there's a ladies' night at the bar down the street..."
"Decaf is fine," David said, pushing back in his chair with a scowl.
What was this guy's problem? All David had done was ask one little innocent question. Okay, so maybe it was two.
Cecil returned quickly with a lukewarm cup of sludge that he passed off as coffee.
"Anything else?" he asked, setting down the ceramic mug.
Nothing, apparently, that this guy would help him with.
David studied the neat geometric patterns on the imitation tile floor, as Cecil tore a sheet from his pad and laid the check on the
Similar Books
The Billionaire’s Secret Love (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance)
Alexa Wilder, Ivy Layne
