Gena Showalter - The Hotter You Burn

“He get grabby during one of your famous bump-and-grinds?”

“Yeah. Thankfully the bouncers kicked him out before he ever made contact.”

At least she was sticking to her story. “I promise to keep my hands to myself...at least for a little while...if you’ve changed your mind and want to give me that lap dance.”

“Sorry, but I still plan to garden for you. After I learn how to garden.”

“Why not research in the privacy of your own home, on a computer? You do have a computer, don’t you? Or at least a phone with internet access.” Tell me the truth, sweetheart. For once.

“Maybe I just prefer the old-fashioned way. Did you ever think of that?”

A supposition rather than a lie. I’m on to you now, honey. “Let’s go inside, then.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “The librarian hates me for something I did as a teenager.”

“Ah. Fixing public relations problems just happens to be my specialty.” He flung his arm over her shoulders, ignored the rightness of having her softness pressed against his hardness once again and urged her forward. “Give me five minutes, and she’ll love you.”

“Impossible,” Harlow said, but this time she allowed him to lead her past the door.

He felt the sweet intensity of her gaze lingering on his profile, and like everything else about her, it affected him deeply. “What will you give me if I succeed?”

“My eternal gratitude.”

“Well, that’s certainly a good start.”

The room was small and crammed with dozens of shelves. The scent of old books and dust assailed him as a short, round woman with silver streaks in her slicked-back hair walked around the checkout desk with the precision of a military commander. Glasses hung around her neck, bouncing with her every step.

“Harlow Glass.” Her features pinched with displeasure. “You are not welcome here. You’ve been told repeatedly not to darken—”

“Ms. Cavanaugh,” Beck said, reading the name tag pinned to the collar of her dress. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” He claimed her hand, kissed her knuckles. “Had I known a woman such as yourself guarded these precious tomes, I would have come much sooner.”

“Yes. Well.” She cleared her throat and returned her attention to Harlow. “You know you’re not supposed to—”

“I hope you don’t mind our intrusion, but Harlow hoped to take a moment of your valuable time and sincerely apologize for any and all trouble she once caused you,” he interjected smoothly. “As a woman who values knowledge, I know you’ll be interested in hearing what she has to say.”

Different emotions played over the older woman’s features, but in the end she nodded stiffly. “Very well. Speak.”

Harlow did just that. “I am so, so sorry for organizing a Students Against Stupid Books protest ten years ago. Someone caught me reading a romance novel, and I was embarrassed. The protest was my way of earning cool points, but I felt like I needed to shower on the inside the entire time, especially while the books were burning. Books are awesome. Go books!”

Students Against Stupid Books? Dude.

“Yes, well. Time will prove all truths,” Ms. Cavanaugh said, the starch staying with her.

“That it will.” Beck gave her knuckles another kiss. “Harlow, honey, why don’t you tell Ms. Cavanaugh about the books you’d like to read and treasure.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Ms. Cavanaugh placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose and stared up at him. “As Harlow is aware, she is forever banned from having a library card. I cannot change our policies. No card, no books.”

“I understand,” Beck said with an indulgent smile, “which is why we’ll put the books on my card. After I fill out the proper paperwork, of course.”

Several beats of silence passed before the librarian gave another stiff nod. “I hope you know what you’re doing, young man.”

As she walked away, Harlow peered up at him, wide-eyed with awe. “Beck,” she whispered, and threw her arms around him, hugging him.

He didn’t hug her back, not at first. The softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, and an instant blast of heat suffused him, his entire body practically going up in flames.

“Thank you. You’re the best. Thank you,” she repeated.

Slowly he wound his arms around her and held on tight, probably too tight, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Anytime, sweetheart.” The hoarseness of his tone embarrassed him. When he began to tremble like a puss, he knew he had to end the contact. He set her away with a swift, almost jarring movement and cleared his throat.

A bell tinkled over the door, saving him from having to come up with an excuse for his behavior, and a feminine voice suddenly called out, “Beck! You’re really here.” An attractive brunette strolled toward him, grinning. “I noticed your car out back and came in to say hi.”

How did he know her?

Well, one guess. “Hey, pretty.” He winked, reassured as he sank back into an old habit.

Harlow snorted. “While we’re here, you might want to check out a few books on the consequences of he-sluttery.”

“You mean extreme fun and temporary pleasure?”

Her mouth curled with distaste. “When it comes to matters of the heart, the only thing you should want to be temporary is an STD.”

Deep down, he’d known she would balk at anything fleeting. Now he had to bite the inside of his cheek to combat a blistering surge of something akin to disappointment.

The brunette reached him, scowling at Harlow before schooling her features and raking her nails down his tie. “A few weeks ago you asked me out. Do you remember?”

“Do you really think I could forget?” he replied smoothly, still drawing a blank.

She shook her head, relieved, and said, “At the time, I told you no, but I’ve regretted it ever since.”

The words jogged his memory. That’s right. She’d played hard to get, turning him down flat, and he’d moved on to someone else. No harm, no foul.

“You two deserve each other. I hope you’re happy...temporarily.” Harlow kept her attention squarely on Beck, glaring daggers at him. “Meanwhile, I’ll be outside. I’ll give you ten minutes to get your card and whatever books you want me to follow while tending your garden, and then I’m gone. I have places to be.”

He didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want her out of his sight, but he said, “If you want to leave, leave. I won’t stop you.” Not now, not ever.

As he spoke, the brunette linked her arm through his, a clear attempt to stake a claim. He almost shook off her hold, but the feeling was so new, so unexpected—so different—he locked his limbs in place.

Harlow looked from him to the girl, the girl to him, the severity he’d noticed in the later-childhood pictures soon masking her features. “Forget the books, and screw you,” she spat, turning toward the door. “Screw you both.”

He knew. In that moment, he knew beyond any doubt. She liked him, and not as a brother. Jealousy was the only reason she would lash out this sharply.

“Harlow,” he called.

“What?” she snapped.

“Stay close. I’ll be coming for you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

HARLOW PACED BACK and forth in front of the library’s front door. Old wood planks creaked and whined, a warm breeze actually cool against her damp neck. Her mind churned.

How dumb was she? Suzie Quaid had walked into the library, and Harlow had nearly erupted into flames of jealousy. All because Beck had smiled and turned on the charm. But the great he-slut of the Southwest always smiled and turned on the charm. He’d even softened the hard-as-stone Ms. Cavanaugh.