Page 5 of Dangerous Lover

It took a huge effort, one of the hardest things he’d ever done in a hard life, but he took his eyes off her. Hungry as he was for the sight of her, he couldn’t keep staring or she’d freak.

So he looked around him, at what she’d created.

It was a pretty bookshop, with a high beamed ceiling, hardwood floor with what looked like expensive rugs scattered around, pinewood shelves and tables with bestsellers on them. The harp music had given way to an a cappella choir of women’s voices singing madrigals. Over the smell of her—soap, shampoo, and the scent of roses that haunted his nights—he could smell potpourri, candle wax and resin from the small Christmas tree decorated with miniature books standing in a big red ceramic pot in the corner.

The entire shop was warm and welcoming, a delight to all the senses.

Jack had good peripheral vision and kept looking around until she visibly relaxed. He turned back to her. “Very nice bookshop. My compliments.”

Her lips turned up in a slight smile. “Thank you. And it’s not usually so deserted. I was expecting a Christmas Eve rush for all the lazybones who haven’t bought their presents yet, but the weather has kept everyone indoors.”

Jack tried not to frown and look disapproving. What was the matter with her? Jesus, the last thing she should do when alone with a man was point out justhowalone they were.

She’d always been like that, too trusting.

Once, in the shelter, old man McMurty, doped up on God knows what shit he’d scored on the streets, had sidled up to her when she’d smiled at him.

Jack knew what McMurty was like when he was high. The filthy fucker would have put his hands on Caroline if Jack hadn’t blocked him. After Caroline left, Jack had showed McMurty the Bowie knife he’d shoplifted and had said that if McMurty even so much as breathed in Caroline’s direction, ever again, he could kiss his balls goodbye.

Jack had meant every word.

Pretty, slender ringless hands opened wide. “Can I help you with something? We have a fairly good selection and I can order anything you want if we don’t stock it. It takes about a week to arrive.” She smiled up at him.

For a second, Jack felt the ground shift beneath his feet.

He was an intensely reality-oriented man. Seeing exactly what was in front of his eyes and not what he wanted to be there had saved his life countless times. But right now, this moment felt hyper-real and insubstantial at the same time.

He was here with Caroline, in the same room with her, close enough to touch her. After all these years. She was so close he could see the blue veins on the back of her white hands, he could hear her soft breathing, smell the faint scent of roses she still carried with her.

She was a woman now. A stunningly beautiful woman, whose face showed the sorrows she’d suffered. The chatty taxi cab driver had told him all about Caroline and thedownfall of the Lakes. Jack had heard all about the car accident that had killed her parents and injured her little brother. The discovery at their death that Mr. Lake had been making bad investments, that there was no money to cover the hospital bills, with barely enough to pay for the double funeral. Then six years of caring for an invalid brother, only to lose him three months ago, saddling her with even more debts.

All of that showed in her face. Faint lines starred her eyes, though they were still that haunting silver-gray color. She’d slimmed down even more. The young Caroline had had a lovely, open face with a perpetually sunny smile. This Caroline showed sorrow and serenity, the sunniness gone.

And yet, Jack could still see the young Caroline, the heart of her—the lovely, gentle girl who’d befriended an outcast—inside the beautiful woman who’d known heartache and grief.

The young girl had haunted his days and nights. The woman in front of him nearly brought him to his knees.

Christ, he was staring again, lost. She’d said something—something about books. He didn’t want books.

“The sign,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” She swirled a lock of shiny red-gold hair behind a small ear. He’d seen her do it a hundred times.

“You’ve got a sign at the front of the shop. ‘Rooms to Let’. Do you still have a room available?”

It had been the motor-mouth taxi driver who’d told him that Caroline rented rooms to boarders to boost her income from the bookshop.

Caroline looked at him for a long moment, clearly sizing him up. He couldn’t shrink and he couldn’t take a showerand shave and he couldn’t change his clothes right then. All he could do was remain motionless and keep his expression neutral. There was nothing he could say or do to convince her, if she didn’t trust him enough to want him in her home. The only thing he could do was wait.

And hope.

Finally, Caroline sighed. “Yes, as it happens, my boarders just left, so I do have a room. But let’s discuss it sitting down, why don’t we? You can leave those behind my desk if you’d like.” ‘Those’ were his ancient dufflebag with the brand-new luggage lock and a suitcase.

No way was he leaving them out of his sight. “Thanks, I’ll just put them down next to me so no one will trip over them,” he said casually, hefting the duffel bag over his shoulder and picking up the suitcase.

She nodded and turned to walk between the rows of books to the back corner of the shop, where a small sitting area had been set up.

Though she was more slender than when she was a girl, she was curvier. She had a tiny waist that begged for his hands to span in, rounding out to a perfect ass. He had to work hard to keep his eyes off it, in case she turned around and found him ogling her. That would have got him tossed out on his ass, PDQ.

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