Page 5 of Prelude To You

He came closer and whispered through his teeth into my ear, so only I could hear. “Play along will you, I’m not doing this for my health.”

There was of course the whiff of his scent that made my toes curl. I figured it would probably be best to do what he said, even if I didn’t care for his demanding tone. Not that I would admit how slivers of heat burrowed into me when he told me what to do.

Why was I being so goddamn weird?

This man was ordering me around, but I can’t say I disliked it. In fact, an exquisite thrill filled me in spaces I didn’t know I had. Taking off my coat didn’t help. What I knew of human biology said the skin was the body’s cooling system. And my system suddenly appeared to have broken down.

Did they not have air conditioning in this place?

To seal his command and my compliance, he lightly placed a very possessive hand on the small of my back. There was no way to stop my body from reacting to his touch. A shudder frolicked through me, and I hoped to God he couldn’t feel it.

But chances were he did because his hand was exactly where the quiver started. From there the feeling traveled up and down my spine and scurried back to end in a delicious tremble beneath his palm.

“I found exactly what I was looking for, thank you…my love,” I barely managed. “But this little troll, Rick, is giving me a hard time.”

My savior almost broke up atlittle troll, but class clearly comes with a good amount of self-control. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he stared Rick down. By now the security guards were nowhere to be seen.

Rick began groveling before Stranger like he was the King of Rhode Island. “Oh dear,” he mumbled. “I had no idea, sir.”

Before I could give Rick another piece of my mind, Stranger leaned over and took the book from Rick’s grubby little paws. He opened it and examined a few pages. Then he closed it again and handed it back to Rick. “Take care of it. Now.”

Rick almost fell over his own feet rushing to “take care of it now,” whatever that meant. Lock it up again in book prison I guess.

Suddenly Stranger and I were all by ourselves. His gaze never wavered from mine, as if he was curious himself as to what exactly he found so fascinating about me. “I don’t speak French,” he said in a deep, velvety voice. “But at a guess, that’s a French recipe book.”

When I looked up, our eyes locked. A warm tingly sensation spread through me, a feeling I was completely unfamiliar with. The shiver returned with a vengeance, dancing across my spine like it was getting paid to do so. “French pastries and desserts,” I corrected him.

“Food, dessert, the same thing really.”

“No, not really,” I said. “You need food to sustain yourself. Dessert is a luxury, a pleasure, an indulgence. You don’t need dessert to survive.”

“That’s an excellent point,” he said, his gaze traveling ever-so-slightly over me. “I’d like to strike my initial observation from the record, please.”

A smile threatened to tarnish my cynical tone. “Sorry, your ignorance has been noted and your reputation will be forever tarnished.”

An incredulous smile spread over his mouth. “Which circles me back to the fact that the book is in French.”

“My mother was French. It comes with the territory.”

He looked at me so intently I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Was it obvious how enthralled I was with him? I forced myself to pull it together. Judging from his overall appearance, we were not moving in the same social circles.

“A dancer who bakes French pastries,” he noted, which surprised me.

“Dancer? And you know this how?”

“You move like a dancer,” he said, as if discussing open-heart surgery. It was not said to impress or flatter me, just stated as a simple fact. Of course, me being who I am, I countered this remark with some cheek. “Well this is a real treat,” I said. “You coming to my rescue. Not that you had to do that, you know.”

Which amused him to no end. “You’re so welcome.”

Of course, then I was forced to challenge his nonchalance. “Because I can look after myself just fine.”

“And we know how well that was going for you, don’t we?”

His attempt at sarcasm was noted, but I refused to be intimidated. “What were they going to do, charge me with reading?”

He smiled into my eyes, and my God if that didn’t send sparks of electricity zapping every nerve ending under my skin. What was happening to me? How was this even possible? It was wholly uncomfortable that a man could make me feel like this way inside of, what, five seconds after meeting him?

Then he had to make it worse and close the already small gap between us, like he’d just acquired some real estate in mypersonal space. “Granted, you did remove the antique book from the oh-so-sacred locked cabinet,” he observed.

---