Ain’t She Sweet?

The rest of the afternoon passed so quickly that Sugar Beth had no chance to get back to reorganizing the children’s department. She decided to do it after they’d closed. Unfortunately, that meant calling Colin.

“Would you keep Gordon until nine or so? I’m working late.”

“Doing what? The store closes at six.”

She knew he was trying to keep her on the phone, but she couldn’t resist sharing her news. “I’m management now. Jewel’s put me in charge of the children’s section.”

“She didn’t want to do it herself, then?”

“That would be one way of looking at it.”

“Do you know anything about children’s literature?”

“Heaps.”

“That bad, is it?”

“Luckily, I’m a quick study.”

“Good news, old chap.” Colin’s voice faded as he turned his head away from the receiver. “Mummy’s coming home late tonight. It’ll be just we guys, so we can get drunk and watch porn.”

She snorted. “We guys.”

“Predicate nominative.”

“You’re such a tool.” As she hung up, she reprimanded herself for sparring with him. Typical addictive behavior.

Catty-corner across the street, she watched Winnie closing up for the evening. In the past few days, Sugar Beth had caught glimpses of her entering and leaving the store. Once she’d seen her changing the display in the window. Winnie had a good eye for design, she’d give her that.

Gigi had stopped by the store to see Sugar Beth yesterday, but she’d been subdued and uncommunicative, even when Sugar Beth had asked her about her new baby-Goth fashion statement. Sugar Beth suspected her parents’ separation was weighing on her. Around lunchtime that same day, she’d seen Ryan walk into Yesterday’s Treasures. For Gigi’s sake, she hoped they’d worked out their problems, but now, as she watched the lights go on in the apartment above the store, she suspected it wouldn’t be that simple.

Sugar Beth’s call shot Colin’s concentration. He played the piano for a while and, as he ran his hands over the keys, invented a game for himself in which all her mystery was gone. He’d seen every secret part of her, hadn’t he? He’d touched and tasted. He knew the sounds she made, the feel of her. She loved being on top, but her orgasms were more explosive when she was beneath him. She liked having him turn her head to the side and hold it in place while he tormented her neck with his kisses. Her nipples were as sensitive as flower petals and having her wrists pinioned excited her.

But for every mystery he’d uncovered, a thousand more waited to be discovered. And there was so much they hadn’t done. He’d never had her in his own bed or in a shower. He wanted her on a table, legs splayed, heels propped on the edge. He wanted her turned bottom up over the arm of a chair. Oh, yes, he definitely wanted that.

He pushed himself away from the piano. He needed something more physical than Chopin to occupy him tonight. He needed to make love with her again.

The foyer had grown dark. He flicked on the chandelier, then turned it off again. He’d been taken aback on Sunday when she’d talked about falling in love with him, but now that he’d had some time to think it over, the idea no longer seemed quite so terrifying. It was simply Sugar Beth being overly dramatic as usual. Her shortsightedness in trying to put an end to their affair frustrated him. He wasn’t insensitive to her grief. She’d lost her husband only four months earlier. But Emmett Hooper had been in a coma for six months before his death and ill for months before that, so she was hardly being unfaithful to his memory. He understood she was frightened-he wasn’t calm himself-but if she’d consider the situation logically, she’d realize this was something they needed to see through.

He didn’t like how empty the house felt without her. His writing hadn’t been going well at all. In the old days, he might have talked with Winnie about it, but she had enough to cope with now. Besides, she tended to be too tactful. Sugar Beth, on the other hand, had an amazing ability to cut through to the essential, and she’d give him her unvarnished opinion.

That morning he’d called Jewel, ostensibly to order another book but really to check up on her new employee. “Sugar Beth’s a gold mine, Colin,” Jewel had said. “She loves selling books. You wouldn’t believe how well-read she is.”

He’d believe it, all right. He’d already noticed the diversity of the books she’d swiped from his shelves. “So she’s working out, then?”

“Better than I could have hoped. Everybody in town’s found an excuse to drop by the store these past couple of days. Since they don’t want to look nosy, they all buy something. I try to wait on the women-they’re giving her a hard time-but I leave the men to her. She can hand-sell the boys just about anything, even the ones I swear can’t read a lick.”

“Glad to hear it,” he’d growled.

He headed for the kitchen to see about dinner. Sugar Beth had left his freezer well stocked, and he grabbed a casserole. She, of course, would be so wrapped up in reorganizing the kiddie section that she’d forget to eat. Or if she did remember, she’d grab a candy bar and call it dinner. Her dietary habits were abominable. She had no regard for her health, and while she might not be the best cook in town, she was far from the worst, and she needed to take better care of herself.

He thrust the casserole in the microwave and slammed the door, ignoring the fact that he was behaving very much like a man bent on slaying dragons and rescuing princesses. Dumping him, indeed. Did she really think it would be so easy?

The phone rang, and he snatched it up, hoping she’d called again so he could give her his opinion of fainthearted women.

But it wasn’t Sugar Beth…

Somebody banged on the door. The store had closed two hours ago, and Sugar Beth frowned as she heaved the last bookcase into place. By repositioning some of the standing bookcases, she’d made the children’s section more accessible. Unfortunately, she’d had to steal a little floor space from Jewel’s beloved poetry section, which would mean some fast-talking in the morning.

She brushed off her hands and headed to the front. Her short, one-piece coral knit sweater dress had a dirt mark on it. She hoped she could get it out because working at the bookstore was stretching the boundaries of her slim wardrobe.

“Coming!” she called out as the door continued to rattle. She passed through the biographies and saw a man standing on the other side of the glass. Big, broad-shouldered, wearing Versace and a thunderous expression. Her pulses kicked like a teenager’s. She fumbled with the lock and opened the door. “Your Grace?”

He pushed past her into the store, leaving behind the faintest trace of brimstone. “Who’s Delilah?”

She swallowed. “My cat.”

“Fascinating. Your cat wants to know why you haven’t called her in two days.”

Sugar Beth could have kicked herself. She’d left Colin’s phone number as a backup in case her cell conked out, and she’d forgotten to change it. The number had been only for emergencies, but Delilah could be wily, and she must have wormed it out of someone in the office.

“Did you scare her? I swear, Colin, if you said one thing to upset her…”

He slapped a foil-covered casserole on the counter. “Why would I upset her when I was conserving my energy to upset you?”

“What possible business is this of yours?”

“She called you her mummy.”

“Mommy. You’re living in the home of the red, white, and blue, buddy boy. We speak American here.”

But she couldn’t distract him. He leaned his hips against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, tapped the toe of an exquisitely polished loafer. “She did not sound like anyone’s little girl. She sounded like an older woman.”

“Delilah is my stepdaughter. Now, I have work to do, so ta-ta.”

“She told me she was forty-one.”