Page 11 of The First Spark

“You know, a thank you would be nice, or is that too tricky for a woman like you?”

She worries her lower lip with her teeth and shifts her weight. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That was almost believable. Don’t worry, sunshine. Next time, I’ll make sure to walk away first.”

I storm toward the door, acutely aware of my date watching our heated exchange. “Let’s go.”

“You sure?” My date nods toward Oriana, who is gathering up the few books that fell off the shelf during our tangle up. “Let me guess. She’s not happy you’re going out with me.”

“Why would she care? We hate each other, remember?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Despise, loathe. Those are acceptable terms, too.”

She nods, unconvinced. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“Didn’t look that way from here.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let her fall on her head? Despite whatshethinks, I’m not a bastard.”

My date turns and pushes open the bookstore door, strolling a few steps ahead, her ample assets swaying in front of me. “That’s not whatshethinks either. It’s what she wants you to think.”

I shake my head and follow her to my bike, handing her the spare helmet. “Come on, let’s focus on our night.”

It can never be simple,can it?

My idea to focus on Lydia isn’t working, because I can’t stop thinking about Oriana. As the evening drags on, Oriana’s words and the look in her eyes keep playing over and over in my brain, gnawing at me.

By the time I finish my first drink, I know I have to end the night early.

I set my glass down and look over at my date. "I'm sorry, but I need to cut this short. There's something I need to take care of."

She gives me a knowing look, a mix of disappointment and sarcasm. "Let me guess, a bookstore emergency? I hope you two figure out whatever unresolved issues you have."

“It’s not like that. It’s business.”

“Asher Hammond, isn’t everything in your world?” Lydia shakes her head and finishes her drink. “Let’s go. Why delay the inevitable?”

Lydia is pissed, and rightfully so, but it doesn’t matter.

Will I pass up on a night of guaranteed sex to ensure I have a signed lease for my speakeasy?

Absolutely.

Besides, I can make it up to my date another night when I prove to her it reallyisjust business.

I ride back to the parking lot, offering Lydia a chaste kiss before watching her drive out of view.

Then I turn my focus to the dimly lit interior of One More Page. The store is closed, but Oriana’s truck is still in the lot.

Perfect.

Chapter 3

The Heart of the Grudge

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