in to sniff his wrist, the place where the leather and pulse came together, that lovely heated skin.
Then I noticed the leather briefcase in his other hand, the copper clasps polished to a sheen. God, a man who looked this sexy who also appreciated old things? I was going to have to get a grip on myself.
‘… at ten in the morning?’ he finished.
I barely remembered what the two were prattling on about. Focus, Janine. Confusing us with a sex toy store at ten in the morning. Got it.
‘You’d be surprised. It’s an honest mistake.’ I could practically hear the purr in Lily’s voice as she got a hold of herself and started to turn on the classic Lily charm. She surreptitiously wiped her palm on her skirt before she stuck her hand out. ‘I’m Lily Marshen. Welcome to Leather Bound.’
He slipped his hand into hers. A shiver of want wiggled through me as their skin touched. I wondered what his skin felt like. How his long fingers would feel against mine. What he smelled like when his skin heated up.
I shook my head and focused. What was wrong with me? Yes, I was a sexual creature, and happily so. But I wasn’t usually a drooling idiot around anyone, especially not around someone I hadn’t even met. Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have enough lust and love trouble at the moment. I was not about to pile on even a tiny bit more. I had a feeling that this guy was a whole lot more, in both lust and trouble departments.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And while I’m a fan of a good sex store …’ Did Lily actually blush when he said that? I could have sworn I saw some pink flash over her perfect, pale cheeks ‘… I’m actually in need of a book.’
‘Oh, you’ll want to talk to Janine then,’ Lily said. And bless her if she didn’t sound just a little sad to let go of his hand.
For the first time, the man glanced my way. His eyes were the kind of thing you look at first and then can’t stop looking at, the irises showing swirls of golden honey and caramel all rimmed in black. His lashes were so thick and dark, it almost looked like he was wearing eyeliner. Thank God he wasn’t. Not that I minded guys in make-up, but having two people in the same room as me who knew how to use eyeliner better than me would have killed what little make-up ego I had.
He smiled at me. Watching him smile was like opening a book for the first time. That slow reveal, full of promise, just inviting you to come closer, to learn all the nuanced secrets that awaited within.
I tried to smile back, but my lips got stuck on my teeth somehow and I could just tell that I was grimacing at him instead. Lily cleared her throat. It was time for me to introduce myself, to be professional, to come out from behind the safety of the counter, but I couldn’t quite remember how to make my feet do the thing they were supposed to do.
I remembered Lily’s shoes with the book titles on them and imagined my own soles were covered in verbs.
Step, Walk, Move all too quickly became Kiss, Suck, Fuck.
I shook the mental image from my head, since it clearly wasn’t helping, and forced my feet forward until I was standing before him. This close, he was taller than I’d thought. Even with my heeled boots on, I had to look up a little. From here, his eyes were more complicated, an overlay of honeyed caramel flecked with nearly hidden hints of green and gold.
I could hear Lily breathing somewhere near me, but I was having trouble focusing on anything beside those warm eyes and that dimpled smile.
Think of Molly Bloom, I told myself. Think of Hester. Think of Lolita.
No, wrong ones.
Thinking of literary characters was my usual trick in getting through panicky situations, but every time I thought of one now, it was a woman and she was not exactly doing innocent things in the recesses of my brain.
I had to break eye contact and look over his shoulder, to the street outside where normal people were doing normal things. A woman walked by with a white dog the size of a teacup curled in her arms. A couple stood arm-in-arm just outside the window and kissed briefly, his lips touching hers with a familiarity that made me feel like a voyeur.
Looking away, I forced my gaze to land on his, taking in his unusual eyes, his attentive expression. After a long moment, the air righted itself so that I could breathe and then again so I could talk. Soon enough I could even stick my hand out, worrying only a little whether I’d been sweating.
‘I’m Janine Archer,’ I said, quickly, before he could take my outstretched hand and render me speechless yet again.
He spoke as his hand settled in mine. His skin was as warm as I’d imagined, a soft heat that seemed to sink into my palm. His fingers were firm, confident. He didn’t shake my hand so much as hold it, tight and secure, as though it was an important package that had been given to his care.
He’d said something.
‘I’m sorry?’ I said. I hadn’t heard him at all. What I did hear was Lily giving a quick, sharp laugh behind me and then trying to hide it with a cough.
‘I said …’ He enunciated each word carefully, as though I was eight, but a smile played lightly at the corners of his lips as he spoke. And besides, I guessed I deserved it. I was certainly acting like I was eight. Or at least eighteen. ‘I’m Davian Cavanaugh.’
‘I’m Janine Archer,’ I said. Again.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘You told me.’
This time, Lily didn’t even bother to try and hold her laughter in, damn her. Did I mention she’s the world’s loudest laugher? I wanted to turn around and pinch her earlobe or hide her away in the back room. Or something. It was impossible to be angry with her, though, once she started laughing. Shaking my head, I smiled apologetically at our potential customer.
‘Please excuse us,’ I urged. ‘We’re usually far more professional than this. It’s just been … one of those mornings.’
I fully expected Lily to make some kind of crack about me smelling like sex. Then I would have to kill her and stuff her into the back room.
She was blissfully quiet. For once.
Davian lifted his brow into a high arch, his expression clearly stating his disbelief that we were typically more functional than this. I couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t exactly seen us at our best. The old me, or rather the young me, would have written this entire conversation off as a disaster and fled the room with her cheeks burning and tears threatening to fall. But this was the new me, the adult me, the me who had a business to run and bills to pay.
Think Scarlett O’Hara.
That worked. I straightened my back and let go of Davian’s hand.
‘So, what book are you looking for, Mister Cavanaugh?’ I asked. ‘If it’s rare, first-edition, banned or signed, I guarantee I can find it for you.’
He took a moment to look around the store, letting his gaze linger over the shelves before he turned slowly back to me. I was struck again by the caramel swirls of his eyes, the way they seemed to radiate heat.
‘It’s none of those things, actually’ he said. ‘The book I’m looking for doesn’t exist.’
