car.
Her creamy calves had risen up from her combat boots, the curve of her knee a real attention grabber.
Or maybe he’d just been imagining things, because as he helped her with the door at the library’s staff entrance, she sure didn’t look like anything other than a…well, a librarian.
“Thanks again.” She set the tote bags on the floor and reached for the kolachkis. “You don’t have to stay. I can probably get someone to give me a ride home.”
Her obvious eagerness to get rid of him perversely made him want to stick around for a while. So instead of leaving, he merely went back outside and walked around to the front of the building and entered it that way.
It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in a public library, but he remembered how he and his twin brother Tom would check out the latest Star Wars paperback and then go home and devour it.
There had been a few changes in the place since then. More computers, more READ posters, more audiobooks.
But his main attention was captured by the sign advertising tonight’s program—a special whodunit mystery night.
“Are you here for the program?” The question came from a guy wearing a silk robe over a pair of dark pants. “I’m playing the role of Lord Grimley and this outfit is supposed to be my smoking jacket. I don’t know who thought of this idea of library staff playing the parts of the characters and having the patrons try and figure out who the murderer is in this drawing-room drama,” he grumbled as he tugged on the sleeve of his robe. “The program’s this way, just follow me.”
The meeting room was already crowded, so Steve took a seat in the back row and studied the flyer that he’d been handed on his way in. Sure enough, Chloe’s name was on it. Chloe Johnson playing the part of Miss Abbington, loyal secretary to Lord Grimley.
Steve didn’t really pay attention to the various clues that were given as the drama began. Instead he remained focused on Chloe. Her shoulders were hunched forward as if she were trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She reminded him of a nervous rabbit as she jabbed her glasses back in place when they slipped down the bridge of her nose.
So what was it about her that intrigued him?
That was the mystery that engrossed him as he sat there watching her.
He knew the exact moment she saw him, because she faltered a moment while delivering the line, “But Lord Grimley was the last one to see George alive.”
Steve was surprised at the glare she shot him a moment later. There had certainly been nothing mousy about that. It had carried the punch of a grenade launcher.
So what was going on here? Because something sure was.
Chloe couldn’t believe Steve had the nerve to spy on her while she was doing the library program. She’d told him he could leave, that he should leave. So why hadn’t he? He wasn’t the kind of man who normally spent an evening at the local library, she was sure of that.
Steve was a man of action. A Marine accustomed to the adrenaline rush of battle. A man who loved speed. She’d driven with him, she knew. The guy rode a Harley, for heaven’s sake.
He stood out like a wolf in a bevy of docile hens. Most of the rest of the audience was collecting Social Security, not combat pay.
A frown from Martin Pritchett, the branch manager playing the role of Lord Grimley, let her know that she’d just missed a cue.
Chloe quickly recovered and the rest of the drama went by without a hitch. The audience was asked to write down the name of who they suspected to be the murderer on a slip of paper, which was put into a box decorated with question-mark wrapping paper.
Chloe had organized a drawing for several door prizes, including books by bestselling mystery authors.
Martin had the honor of finally revealing the murderer. “The guilty party tonight was actually none other than…” He paused for dramatic effect. Martin enjoyed being the center of attention. “The loyal secretary Miss Abbington. Shame on you, Miss Abbington.” He shook a finger at her as she hung her head in remorse.
The audience seemed to enjoy the event, applauding enthusiastically at its conclusion. Or maybe they were just happy about the hot tea and goodies that Martin had invited them to consume. Chloe noticed that Wanda’s kolachkis disappeared quickly.
Steve noticed the same thing. “Busha’s offering seems to be quite a hit.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Watching you.”
She didn’t like that answer, not one bit. And the intensity of her reaction surprised her. After all, she’d spent years learning to suppress her emotions, to stay calm, to remain invisible and not make waves. So why was it that one sexy Marine seemed to have the power to change all that?
He was invading her turf—the library. One of the few places where she felt at home, where she felt in her element. Surrounded by books and information, all cataloged and shelved in an orderly manner.
“I also thought I could give you a ride back home after this,” Steve added as he reached past her for a cookie.
Chloe badly wanted to refuse. But the person with whom she’d thought she could hitch a ride had actually carpooled with someone else this evening, someone who lived in the opposite direction from Chloe’s house.
Beggars can’t be choosers. How often had Janis told her that? Too often.
Steve polished off his cookie and reached for another. “My grandmother entrusted you to my care tonight. She’d shoot me if I didn’t bring you back and make sure you got home safely.”
So Steve was only doing this to please his grandmother? Somehow that didn’t make her feel much better.
Chloe was glad when a patron interrupted them with a question about the name of a mystery author she couldn’t remember. Helping unite people with books was what Chloe did best.
When the patron walked out with the book she’d wanted, Chloe was sidetracked by Lynn Scott, the children’s librarian. “Who’s the hottie you were talking to earlier?”
“He’s my neighbor’s grandson.”
“You have all the luck. My neighbor’s grandson is a holy terror, aged three.”
“My car broke down so he gave me a lift tonight.”
“Seeing him gave me quite a lift, too,” Lynn noted with a grin. In her mid-thirties with long dark hair she usually wore in a braid, Lynn was one of those people who brightened the world with their presence. She and Chloe had hit it off from day one.
“Don’t let your husband hear you saying that.”
“There’s no harm in just looking,” Lynn noted.
Chloe tried telling herself that as Steve drove her home a short while later. No harm in just looking. The glow of the streetlights passed over his face, creating sharp angles and increasing his good looks.
She
