Karina Bliss - What the Librarian Did

“Sure, if you don’t mind me butchering it.”

Her pulse steadied with Mark gone. “Not as long as I get twenty-six slices out of it.”

“Heartbreaker, you crack me up.” Devin dropped a brief kiss on her mouth and her pulse sped up again. The dragon twisted on his forearm as he began slicing meat with a showman’s flair.

Rachel concentrated on stirring the gravy but couldn’t resist another glance. The noon sun streamed through the window, glinted off the flashing knife and picked up the red in Devin’s stubble. He dwarfed the tiny kitchen, completely out of place against the teal-and-cream cupboards of her country-style décor, with its ceramic roosters, appliquéd tea towels and battered dresser.

This crazy attraction must be affecting her ability to be impartial, because she no longer saw him as a threat-at least not to Mark. So, what…one kiss and the frog had turned into a prince? No, she’d been softened by the fact that he was looking out for his mother. Katherine had sung his praises last night.

What do your instincts tell you?

To jump him.

Frowning, Rachel turned off the heat and put a lid on the gravy. Keep it simple, stupid. Now was the time to tell him she’d had second thoughts.

Except then he might leave-and take Mark. She put the vegetables and greens into serving dishes, then returned them to the warming drawer. She’d raise the subject after lunch.

Devin brought over a platter of meat, beautifully sliced. “Thirty-two. Damn, I’m good. You want me to carry this to the dining room?”

Rachel pointed to the two-person oak table in the corner of the kitchen. “You mean that?”

“Don’t tell me. It also makes up into a bed at night.”

If only he didn’t make her laugh. “Put the meat in the oven with the vegetables, then come and be introduced.”

“In a minute.” Off-loading the meat, he took her into his arms and smiled at her. And Rachel knew it wasn’t fair to let this go on any further.

“About last-”

Devin kissed her with the same arrogant confidence he had the night before, bypassing her reservations and tapping straight into the uncomfortable heat she felt for him. “I’d rather talk about tonight.”

Such an innocuous statement. Such a wealth of sinful promise.

Flustered, Rachel pulled free, fixed her gaze on his belt buckle and launched into her analogy about the difference between three-lane highways and one-way streets, and knowing what kind of driver you were. Devin balanced on the edge of the table, swinging one booted foot, and listened in polite silence.

She ran out of gas and spluttered to a stop. What had started out as a good idea had ended up a six-car pileup.

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” His voice was thoughtful. “I haven’t even made a layover yet and already I’m a blind alley?”

She looked up to see the slow-burn grin that always took the chill off.

“You know this road map of yours isn’t even accurate,” he pointed out. “Paul, the expressway, turned out to be a dead end.”

Rachel bit her cheek to stop from smiling.

Hooking one arm around her waist, Devin pulled her closer. “What you need on that map is a rest stop. Somewhere to take a break from the serious business of staying on the straight and narrow, scanning side mirrors, checking GPS, watching for safety signs…”

She couldn’t hold back the laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I love it when you use librarian words.” He nuzzled her neck. It felt wonderful. Maybe she was overthinking this. No one needed to get hurt. He was a rock star, for God’s sake, and she hadn’t lost her head over a guy since her teens. Briefly, her arms tightened around him. To hell with impartiality. By bringing her son here, Devin was top of her hit parade right now.

“Let me introduce you to everybody, and then we’ll have lunch.” As she pushed Devin toward the living room, Rachel said softly, “Thanks for bringing Mark…to meet other students.”

“Actually, I’m hoping for advice,” he replied. “I’ll tell you about his cock-eyed plan when everyone’s gone.”

DEVIN SUDDENLY FOUND himself standing alone, amid a dozen students of various nationalities jammed together on the sofa or seated on large cushions on the floor. Conversation dried up as they recognized him. Turning around, he saw Rachel had stopped in the doorway with an anxious expression. “Something wrong?”

She smiled and moved forward. “For a moment I thought I’d left the oven on…but I didn’t.” She began making introductions.

As he did the rounds, Devin noticed everyone was wearing stickers starting with “Ask me about…” Trust the librarian to have an icebreaker. Shaking hands with a guy called Huang, he looked closer. Ask me about…

Growing up in Taiwan.

What it’s like to have to study in my second language.

Rodeo.

“You rodeo?”

Huang nodded. “When I first come here to learn English I live in Warkworth with rodeo family.”

Devin had friends in the business, and the two of them discussed barrel racing and bull riding for several minutes.

“And where is your sticker, Dev-an?” Huang inquired politely, and those within earshot laughed. The young man’s face reddened.

Talking to Mark nearby, Rachel glanced at Huang, then pulled a sticker pad and pen out of her apron, a white cotton bibbed thing covered with cherries. “I’m so sorry, Devin, I forgot.”

God, she was sweet. “No problem,” he said.

“Ask me about…” She tapped the pen against her teeth while she considered. Devin smothered a smile. Sex, drugs and rock and roll? Rehab? With her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail she looked only a few years older than these kids.

“Being famous,” suggested Trixie, and suddenly everyone was chiming in.

“How much money you’ve made.”

“Dating supermodels.”

“What it is like,” said Huang, “to live most people’s dream?”

“That’s a silly question,” said Trixie, “because there’s only one answer. Bloody fantastic.”

Everyone laughed.

“Okay, let’s go with that one,” said Devin. “You’re nineteen years old, Trixie, and a rock star-famous, rich, dating studs. Now what?”

She raised one pierced eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got another fifty to sixty years to fill and you’ve got nothing left to wish for. What happens when the novelty wears off?”

Baby Goth shook her head. “Never going to happen.”

“Eat your favorite food for a week,” he said drily, “then tell me you don’t crave a change. Eventually it happens.”

There was silence as people digested that.

“But you’ve still got your music,” Huang ventured.

Devin turned to him. “And in the first rush of fame you’ve overcommitted to album contracts. So, yeah, you’re busy. Except your record company wants more of the kind of songs that made you famous. And you want to stay famous. Making music becomes a high-pressure business instead of a creative endeavor.”

“Then I’d forget about fame,” Mark said confidently, “and just write original music for my hard-core fan base. They’d keep buying.”

“But not in enough numbers to keep the money flowing in that you’ve been spending like water.”

“Then I’ll enjoy what I’ve already bought,” said Trixie. “The mansion and the boy toys.” She licked her lips lasciviously and the others laughed.

“Sorry, Baby Goth.” Devin shook his head. “The boy toys won’t hang around if you’re not famous. And how much money you’ve got left to play with depends on your manager and your business savvy-which has probably been addled by the drugs or alcohol you used to medicate the terror you feel at living the dream and not being happy.”