Karina Bliss - What the Librarian Did / LA Cinderella - What the Librarian Did / LA Cinderella

Mark’s reluctance was evident as he joined in the choruses; he obviously knew he had an indifferent singing voice. She was to blame for that. The other boy’s voice was stronger and well served by a song that was both melodic and haunting.

She wasn’t an expert, but Rachel could see nothing in his performance to excite a music legend into mentorship. Her fingers tightened on her bag. Was that relationship more payback from Devin?

He’d breezed into the library several times this week, always calling across the room, “Keep me posted about that ride, won’t you, Heartbreaker.” Rachel had fielded a lot of interested questions from fellow staff members who were agog at the thought of one of their own attracting a rocker.

As if.

She knew damn well that Devin was baiting her as punishment for sticking her nose in something that didn’t concern her. What she couldn’t judge was how much of that depravity was feigned to annoy her.

In her worst moments, she even considered telling Devin the truth. But Rachel had kept this secret too long to trust it to an undisciplined rocker who probably had looser lips than Jagger.

The song finished; the buskers took a break. Flipping his hair out of his eyes, Mark caught sight of Rachel and scowled. She responded with a tentative smile and stepped forward. “Can I talk to you privately for a minute?”

“I don’t need another lecture.”

“I want to apologize.”

He searched her face, then shrugged. “Back in a sec, Ray.” They walked down the side street a few feet. It was quieter here. She steeled herself.

“I know my concern seemed intrusive—”

“It was the disloyalty that got me.”

She swallowed. “Disloyalty?”

“To Devin,” Mark said impatiently. “I mean, the guy’s your friend.”

“Oh.”

“He’s the one you should be apologizing to.”

Rachel murmured noncommittally and Mark’s expression grew even sterner.

“Especially when he agreed with you that he was a bad influence.”

That surprised her. “He did?”

“At least until you read him the riot act. Then he said I could hang out with him as much as I like.” Mark grinned. “Maybe I should accept your apology.”

Rachel bit her lip. So she’d provoked Devin into doing the very thing she’d set out to prevent. Mark really was better off without her. Except … this was the only chance she’d ever have to know him. “So are we okay again?” Will you stop avoiding me?

“I guess.” He was already looking beyond her as he waved to his mate. “Yeah, coming! So is that all you wanted?” He was taller than her by a few inches. Amazing.

Through force of will she matched his casualness. “Yes, that’s all.” As he walked away, Rachel knew she’d never be anything to him other than as the loopy librarian. Unless … “Mark?”

He turned back impatiently. “Yeah?”

“I will think about apologizing to Devin.”

He nodded in approval; she basked in it all the way to the parking lot.

She’d always had one imperative for her son. To keep him safe. And that hadn’t changed.

If the only way to Mark was through Devin Freedman, then so be it.

In the driver’s seat of her Honda hatchback, she passed a hand over her face, suddenly exhausted. She felt as if she was on a teeter-totter, up one minute, down the next. For years she’d worked hard to achieve serenity. Her childhood had held no security … even the long periods of relative peace were the only uneasy calm before an impending storm.

As an adult she’d organized her life into neat compartments. Now the drawer was a jumble again.

She needed to start thinking smarter. Apologizing wasn’t a fix; somehow she had to scrutinize that damn man. Then she could judge him herself.

An idea occurred to her and she grew thoughtful. If she befriended the rocker, then Mark’s attitude would soften toward her, providing an opportunity to get to know her son.

Not quite the threesome Devin had had in mind when he’d tried to shock her. Rachel chuckled. She’d thought of a way to get what she wanted and extract a little revenge on Mr. Rock Star.

The next day when Devin called across the library, “When are you going to put me out of my misery, Heartbreaker?” Rachel smiled.

“Right now.”

THINKING HE’D MISHEARD, Devin moved closer. “Excuse me?”

Rachel beamed at him. “I’m saying yes to a date. Well, really, it’s a way of apologizing for hurting your feelings last week.”

Hurting his … Okay, now he knew she was joking. “I realize I was out of line,” she continued earnestly, “and this is my way of making it up to you.”

Devin folded his arms, leaned on the counter and waited for the punch line. And waited.

“How does tonight sound?”

Good God, she was serious. He was so flummoxed he couldn’t think of an excuse. “Umm …”

“Seven o’clock suit you?” Without waiting for a response, she wrote it in her diary in neat script.

“Look, this really isn’t necessary. No hard feelings.”

“No, I insist. And my goodness, you need a reward for all that persistence. Which is sweet of you, incidentally.”

Devin winced. “The word sweet should only be applied to situations involving whipped cream and a supermodel,” he said, and sparked a frown from her. His confusion gave way to suspicion. Wait a minute. The librarian didn’t want to date him any more than he wanted to date her. This was counterterrorism. Intrigued, he decided to beat her at her own game.

“Give me your address,” he drawled. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Maybe it’s better if we meet at the restaurant.”

“Except I’m still deciding where to take you.”

Reluctantly, Rachel found a piece of paper and wrote down her address.

“You know, I’m kinda nervous about this,” he said as he accepted it. “Given your reputation as a heartbreaker and all.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I had decided not to date until I’d got that situation under control. Are you sure you want to take the risk?”

“Hmm, good point.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should reconsider….”

Something oddly like panic clouded her expression. It was as if she really cared about this. Then she leaned forward and said softly, “Chicken?”

Devin chuckled. There were so many lessons he could teach this woman. Specifically, never take on a hell-raiser. Even reformed ones were dangerous. “Go ahead,” he dared, “break my heart.”

THE LIBRARIAN’S neighborhood was made up of immaculately restored colonial cottages, each with pocket-handkerchief front yards full of lavender and standard roses. Figured, Devin thought.

Few had garages, so everyone parked on the street, which meant he had to leave his car a mile down the road and walk. Having been raised in L.A., he bitterly resented it.

He also seriously resented being nervous. It wasn’t that he was hot for the librarian, simply that this was his first date ever without the social lubricant of alcohol.

Devin found number eight. The house was the same as every other except instead of being painted cream or white like its neighbors, it was honeysuckle-yellow and the garden was a subtropical jungle of banana palms, black flaxes, and orange and red canna lilies. He was picking up way too much plant lore from his mother. A well-used mountain bike was chained to the old-fashioned porch railing.

Sucker. She gave you the wrong address. Why hadn’t he seen that coming? He was about to turn away when the door was flung open. “You’re forty minutes late,” said Rachel. “I’d just about given you up.”