Page 9 of Dangerous Secrets

Most dates listened with half an ear until the conversation bumped around to their main topic of interest—themselves. They’d make exceptions for their jobs, cars and the stock market, but that was about it.

So Nick Ames was not only the sexiest man she’d ever met, he was also highly intelligent and perceptive. It meant that the gentle irony she sometimes used, and that always zinged right over her date’s head, had to be curbed.

She smiled. “Well, books are always good.”

“I should imagine so, seeing as how you’re a librarian.”

“No Marian the Librarian cracks,” Charity warned, alarmed. She’d heard them all.

His eyes were so very blue. He held up a large hand, index and middle fingers raised. His mouth tightly repressed a smile. “Not a one, scout’s honor.”

“Were you a boy scout?”

“Made Eagle. Yes, ma’am. Racked up the highest number of points in my troop. So—getting back to you, how did you end up being a librarian in Parker’s Ridge?”

Make a long story short,Charity thought. “Well, I love books and tend to have a reasonably organized mind, so Library Science seemed like a good choice for undergraduate studies.”

Before taking off for Paris, her lifelong dream. And she’d almost managed it, too, with a grant to study French literature in Paris and a one way economy class ticket. She’d put her few belongings in storage and had one foot out the door when Uncle Franklin had called to say that Aunt Vera suddenly couldn’t remember the names of the days of the week.

There had been no question of what she had to do. The next day she was back in Parker’s Ridge, plane ticket refunded, applying for old Mrs. Lambert’s job.

“And why are you here?” He was listening so intently, you’d think she was telling some thrilling tale. “Why settle in Parker’s Ridge? It’s pretty, but it’s small.”

Charity repressed a sigh. Yes, it was small. And remote.Definitelynot Paris.

She was here because this is where her duty lay. But that was too depressing to say, certainly in those terms. Charity had learned that the word ‘duty’ should be used very sparingly in the modern-day world. She side-stepped. “My family’s been in Parker’s Ridge for over two hundred years.” No matter that she’d longed to escape the ties, the ties had brought her back.

He filled their glasses and lifted his. “Well, if it can keep the Prewitt family happy for two hundred years, Parker’s Ridgemust have a lot of hidden virtues. I propose a toast, then, to Parker’s Ridge.”

She lifted her own glass and he touched his to hers. The clear ring of pure crystal sounded and he smiled at her over the glasses filled with wine.

His smile went through her like lightning, an electric current that jolted her, inside and out. Suddenly, everything took on a heightened tone. The fire in the room burned brighter, the luscious smells from the surrounding tables were more potent, the silverware gleamed more brilliantly. She was aware of everything around her and especially of the big man sitting across the table from her, watching her closely.

There was no mistaking the masculine interest. She’d seen it enough in men, though not very often lately, to tell the truth. It seemed that lately she’d been living in a totally sex-free zone. But right now, in Emilio’s restaurant, sex was in the air and . . . she was up for it.

Charity’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Wow. She was up for sex with this man. Rightnow.She’d never done anything like this in her life. Never even wanted to.

It took her a while before she felt ready to go to bed with a man. Weeks, sometimes.

But with a clarity that astounded her, she knew that she was going to sleep with this man. Soon. Maybe eventonight. Oh yeah. Instead of going to bed with a hot water bottle and the latest Michael Connelly, she might be going to bed with this sexy, totally hot man she’d met just this morning.

Her thigh muscles clenched at the thought. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time.

Her head instantly went into Caution Mode, listing all the reasons she shouldn’t do this. She didn’t know him. He could have a disease—though, frankly, the way he looked, not even her anxious subconscious took that one seriously. He radiatedhealth and strength. Or . . . he could be a serial killer. They could find her dead body in a lake of blood and no clues. They’d interview Emilio and he’d sayhe looked fine to me. We had no idea he was a monster.

Or—or he could be into something really kinky, something she’d hate, like handcuffs or spanking. Ew.

Luckily, her body wasn’t paying her anxious, neurotic mind any attention at all. It didn’t really have to because any possible danger was all in her head. Her body wasn’t picking up on any vibes of serial killerness or kinkiness. All it perceived was a gorgeous, healthy male with a healthy interest in her, which she was feeling right back.

Oh, yeah.

She held her glass up and saw that her hand was trembling. The liquid rippled against the sides of the glinting crystal glass. He was watching. He saw. Those deep blue eyes were perceptive. He was looking at her as if he could walk around inside her mind. So he could see her hand trembling and would notice the flush she could feel rising from her breasts. She had to work to bring her breathing pattern back down to normal.

This was a little scary. Charity was a reader, and like most readers, she lived mainly inside her own head. She was most comfortable on the sidelines of life, observing. Consequently, she was used to studying people without being studied back. It was disconcerting to think that he was reading her desire. That he could readher.

Put it back on a light, impersonal footing.

“Well then, I propose a toast of my own.” Again, their glasses clinked, with a clear ring of crystal. “To . . . to Nick Ames.”

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