“Whole town is out,” Verna exclaimed from behind her. Anna turned to see the older woman’s eyes illuminated in the glow of her phone screen. “My granddaughter says the heat wave has everything zapped.”
“Here,” Gina said, handing Anna a lighter. “I swiped this from my husband’s nightstand this morning. I can’t make him stop smoking, but I can keep stealing the lighters until he gives in.”
“Thanks,” Anna said, flicking the lighter to life. “I doubt the power will come back any time soon. I’ll lead the way to the exit, but be careful. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Oh, and I’ll email you all with the name of our book for next month.”
Before she took a single step, the flame burned her finger. “Ouch!” she cried.
“Here,” Max said, taking the device from her hand. “Let me.”
Without waiting for her agreement, he led the group to the front door, then held it open for each to pass. Sun filled the doorway, making the lighter no longer necessary. Verna brought up the rear and stopped next to Anna.
“If you give page two hundred twenty-seven a try,” she whispered, “I want to hear all about it.”
Heat danced up Anna’s neck to the tops of her ears.
“What exactly is on page two hundred twenty-seven?” Max asked. His tone implied he’d already guessed.
“I don’t remember. I’d have to look it up,” Anna lied as she stepped behind the information desk to grab her things. “You don’t need to stay.” She withdrew her purse and bag of books from a lower drawer. “There’s nothing to do but lock the doors and come back tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you home,” he said. “Seeing as we live in the same house. Technically speaking.”
The house they shared—though thinking of it that way made their relationship sound more intimate than it was—stood two doors down from the library. They’d lived in close quarters for weeks now, but it wasn’t as if they’d become friends. They’d barely exchanged greetings, even though Max had become a regular at the library, presumably doing research for his book. Anna had helped him locate various sources along the shelves.
Several had been medical references on cancer so she hoped they were for his fiction and not more personal reasons.
Unable to think of a polite way to decline, she said, “If you’re walking that way...”
“I am now,” he said with a grin that igniting a flame a different sort.
Outside, Max waited for her to lock the doors, then took the book-filled tote off her shoulder. A wall of heat hit them full on, and Anna removed her white sweater for the short walk home, draping it over her purse.
Every nerve ending in her body was aware of the man beside her. Every brush of his arm against hers sent tiny shocks through her system. The soaring temperature warmed her skin, but Max’s heat touched something deeper.
“I’m not letting you off the hook,” he said, one eyebrow lifted high. “What are we trying from page two hundred twenty-seven?”
“I. . .” she stammered, feeling the blush down to her toes. No way was she describing the scene in question. At least not to the man walking her home. They certainly would not be trying the act described in the book, and not only because Anna didn’t own a set of handcuffs.
“Now I have to know,” he insisted. “Any scene that could put that look on your beautiful face must be good.”
Her mind reeled at the compliment. Max thought she was beautiful. How was that even possible? She had to say something—but what?
“Maybe I can coax you into telling me over dinner.” he said, not seeming to notice her flustered silence. “We could discuss the scene in detail. I’m always happy to learn from other writers.”
“Dinner?” Anna asked.
“I have steaks in my freezer that will go to waste with the power off,” he said smoothly. “We can use that grill you have on your porch.”
Anna was so surprised that she didn’t answer right away. Then she remembered an important, and disappointing, detail. “I haven’t used the grill in a while, so I don’t have any charcoal.”
“I have some,” he said.
“Oh.”
If she were thinking clearly, Anna would have wondered why a man without a grill owned a bag of charcoal. But in that moment, the idea of having dinner with Max consumed all of her working brain cells. In truth, the blood rushing to points south was probably to blame for her lack of cognitive thinking.
“I'm not sure what I have to add to the meal,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
She glanced over in time to see his grey eyes turn to silver as he said, “You're more than enough.”