Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

thoughtful when he chose to be. And when he looked at her as if she were the answer to his every craving—as he was doing now—everything in her strained to lift herself up on her toes and press her lips to his.

He was nearly impossible to resist.

But resist she must.

It took all she had.

She turned away from him. “I think you’d better go,” she said briskly. He’d go and she’d make a cup of tea and become a serious shopkeeper once again.

But he didn’t move.

“Captain,” she warned him.

He grabbed her hand. “Must I?”

Dear God. It was the answer she’d hoped for in her daydreams.

But this was real life!

She couldn’t possibly look directly at him. She’d look at the books over his shoulder instead. And she didn’t know what in the world to say.

“I don’t want to go, Miss Jones.” His voice was husky. “You don’t want me to, either. You want me to stay. Here. With you.”

Still, she couldn’t move. Or speak. This couldn’t be happening again.

But it was.

He ran a thumb over the back of her palm. “I do believe you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

She bit her lip and risked a glance at him. “And what is that?”

He was mere inches away. With a slow, deliberate movement, he turned her to face him. “You’re thinking we should take inventory,” he said. “Of all the books.”

Inventory.

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Right.”

Heavens, that hadn’t been what she’d been thinking at all! Her heart hammered in her chest, and her palms were damp. In the distance came the rumble of a wagon, the call of one workman to another, and the joyful voices of children singing a nursery rhyme she’d sung herself years ago.

But no sound, no intriguing book title, no shelf that needed dusting, could distract her from the realization that she and Captain Arrow were alone, in her store—

The store that almost always saw no customers.

Otis, too, wasn’t due back for a goodly while.

“You’re thinking we should take inventory,” he went on with a lazy yet heated grin, “because you’ve only done it at least a dozen times this week. Thirteen would be good. Thirteen times would assure you that you’re using your time wisely.”

She nodded, still mute.

“We should start here,” he whispered, pulling a tendril of hair off her cheek.

“Here?” She could barely get the word out.

Slowly, he pulled her down with him to the floor. “This table,” he whispered in her ear.

Books were stacked so high upon it that no one could see them from the door.

She swallowed. “I know what you’re about to—”

And then he kissed her below her jaw.

Oh, sweet heavens! She gulped and blinked. “Captain,” was all she was able to say before he kissed her again, this time on the edge of her mouth.

The edge.

It was too much to be borne. She needed to be kissed full on the—

Oh, now he was kissing her.

Was he ever!

“Don’t worry,” he murmured against her mouth. “It’s your slowest time of the business day. And if by some slim chance, anyone comes in, we’ll freeze and not say a word. They’ll soon leave.”

“Are you sure?” she said, her limbs weak with desire and, she must admit—

Fear of the unknown.

“I won’t let anything untoward happen to my favorite bookseller,” he said, “I promise you.”

Those were exactly the words she’d needed to hear. She allowed herself to lean into him, luxuriating in the pleasure of feeling his broad, muscled chest beneath her palms.

But then she pulled back. “This is crazy,” she whispered, and clung to his shirt.

“I know,” he said. And in one swift movement, he lowered her gently to the floor. He wrapped one arm around her waist and put one broad palm behind her head, to cushion her.

It was the most cozy bed she’d ever lain in.

He kissed her, then pulled back a fraction of an inch from her lips. “It makes it that much more exciting, doesn’t it? Knowing we’re taking a substantial risk … all for a kiss.”

She practically melted at the look in his eyes, at the sound of the word kiss on his lips.

He kissed her again, the rough skin of his jaw so pleasant against her own skin. She couldn’t help herself. She moaned.

Their kisses grew deeper. She ran her hand over his back, and he caressed her breasts through the thin fabric of her gown.

She sucked in a breath. No one had ever done that to her before. Certainly not Hector. She closed her eyes and let herself be caressed. It was the only word for it.

Caressed.

“If this is inventory,” she murmured, making one, last feeble attempt at being businesslike, “I—I like it very much.”

He laughed against her mouth.

He shouldn’t laugh. She was the owner of Hodgepodge, and it was broad daylight. Yet she was on the floor of her store with him, and if anyone walked in—

Why, if anyone walked in, she’d be run off Dreare Street, wouldn’t she?

But she couldn’t care very much at the moment. Captain Arrow was making her feel so very good. She couldn’t even properly describe how she felt—just that she wanted to keep doing what they were doing.

“You’re the most delectable bookseller I’ve ever known,” he said, and pulled down the edge of her bodice.

“I am?” What a world was opening up to her, here on the floor of Hodgepodge! She was almost greedy with need, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him close for an openmouthed kiss.

“Yes, you are.” He trailed hot kisses down her neck and shoulder. Then he nuzzled his chin and mouth into the lacy edge of her bodice.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“What I’ve wanted to do ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

She felt him nudge aside the thin fabric there. Coolness struck. And then heat and—

Oh, God. He was suckling her breast. She closed her eyes, rocked by a deeply pleasurable sensation that flickered between her legs.

What they were doing was so improper. A volume of Shakespeare was nearby. And several fussy dictionaries. But she couldn’t care. Oh, no, she was in a blissful state.

She’d never wanted a customer less than she did at this moment.

She arched her back. “Please don’t expect this to happen again,” she whispered into his golden curls, her hands caressing his tapered shoulders.

“Oh, no.” He ran a finger in a lovely circle around her exposed nipple. “I wouldn’t dare hope. It was entirely a matter of impulse you won’t repeat.”

“Exactly,” she said with a sigh.

And then felt bereft.

Because she wanted this to happen again. Very much.