Page 124 of Dark Love

“You remember all of that?”

I remember everything about you. “We should get started if we’re going to finish this before you go to work on Monday.”

“You think it will take that long?”

Not if we did just this. We could probably knock it out in a few hours, but that wouldn’t be fun. “We’ll see. Let’s start by sorting and see what you have.”

Dahlia nods.

Now I get to see what your books say about you.

Several stacks later, the picture from before hasn’t changed. She’s sweet all the way down to her dozens of cozy mysteries and sweet romance books. There’s a deeper side to her tastes too… literary fiction and classics are peppered through the standalones. She doesn’t have any first editions of classics, but the number of signed modern books is impressive.

“Do you think I’m a nerd because I read?”

A sexy librarian works for me.

“Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know the answer. Do you read?” She picks up and sets the same book down.

Part of me had expected her to ask if I could read at some point. People tend to underestimate me because of my size. They tend to think—to their own chagrin—that I’m all muscles and no brain. “Yeah, Dahl, I read. And it seems that I find a nerd to be very attractive.”

Dahlia’s cheeks turn a soft pink.

Maybe one kiss wouldn’t be bad. She knows I’m not a good guy, anyway.

Killer though I might be, a liar I’m not.

Could I stop after a single kiss?

A single embrace?

Ignore her, even though she’s staring. You’re strong enough to ignore her.

I pick up a book off the top of a new stack.

Dylan DuPress. Dahlia reads mystery? I flip the front cover over out of habit more than anything else since Dylan never signs—“How did you get this?”

“Huh?”

The next book in the pile is another Dylan DuPress book. It’s signed too. How is this possible? These don’t exist. And I tried. Boy, did I try to get a signed set, but Dylan doesn’t ever sign his books. “These.” I lift up book after book. Each and every one is signed with a personalized note.

“Oh…um… I must have won them or something.”

She’s lying. Why would Dahlia lie about a trivial book? Did they date?

There are a lot of books on the pile. They would have had to be together—together. My hands clench into fists as I imagine all the ways I could kill Dylan, a man I’ve never even seen an image of, in cold blood.

I shouldn’t have let Payne do the research. Dylan could be lying in a shallow grave right now, rotting. There would be an investigation when a bestseller like Dylan disappeared, and the world wouldn’t get to finish his latest series. That would be such a shame.

“You like Dylan’s book?”

There it is… all the answers I need. There’s a familiarity and softness in her tone that speaks of a relationship.

Maybe I can wait until after his next release before I kill him for touching what’s mine.

“Dylan DuPress—” Dahlia nods towards the books in my hands. “—do you like the books?”

Not anymore. Right now, I detest them. “They aren’t my favorite.” Which was actually the truth even before I found out about the two of them. “His stories are well written, but he lacks the subtlety that makes for an amazing mystery.”

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