Bess.”
“Wait, don’t—”
She hung up. Nothing Bess could say would change her mind. Besides, Bess was no paragon of knowledge. Look at the mess she’d made of her own life. Sabrina sighed and shook her head.
Poor Bess. At sixteen, they’d cried together when she discovered she’d gotten pregnant by Tommy Anderson, her first “real” boyfriend. To Sabrina’s horror, Bess, with her runway model looks, tossed aside her future in high couture to marry Tom and have his baby.
Nine years and three children later, Bess was still stuck in Atlanta, still stuck with Tom. Sabrina’s heart twisted. Sure Bess loved her kids, but what a life she could have had. How many nights had they stayed up planning her career as a high fashion model, her New York apartment and her picture on the cover of Vogue?
Sabrina stood. For herself, all she’d ever wanted was a career, a husband who loved and appreciated her, and children. Professionally, she was doing exactly what she wanted, but her personal life was lacking. Sure, she’d dated, always on the search for The One. Bess’s tragedy had taught her not to settle for less. Unfortunately, it never took long to realize when a man wasn’t The One, so her relationships tended to fizzle before developing into anything serious.
With one last glare at the calendar, she pushed away from her desk. Friday the thirteenth! Of all the days to have a birthday!
She paused at her office door. She needed to do something to get out of her funk. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself basking in the sun along crystal-white sand. That was it! She’d go to her favorite resort in Destin, Florida, and treat herself to her own birthday celebration.
As she pushed through into the shop, her mind raced with the list of things she had to do to prepare for the trip—make sure the store was covered, call the resort and schedule her flight. With luck, she’d have everything set by the end of the day.
The resolve firm in her mind, she went to relieve Toby. The front door of the shop stood open, catching the May breeze. Sunlight flooded the row of floor-to-ceiling windows that graced the shop’s front. Plants hung in baskets near the windows, and topped the many bookcases, lending a cool touch of green. The brassy strains of jazz drifted from overhead speakers.
With a sound of relief, Toby raced for the back room, leaving the small bookstore empty, except for Sabrina and Libby Conrad, one of their regulars. A flowered scarf held Libby’s dyed red curls back from her face. She stretched to reach a high shelf in one of the many bookcases.
“Need help?” Sabrina asked.
With a wave of her hand, the older woman dismissed her. “Don’t mind me, dear. I’m fine. I know you’ve got work to do.”
Sabrina smiled a small smile. She was so distracted right now, she’d hate to inadvertently snap at the dear woman. Picking up a watering can from behind the counter, Sabrina went to work on a basket of Creeping Charley. Caring for her plants usually calmed her.
Libby seldom bought or traded books. Mostly she browsed and chatted with other customers. Though Sabrina had grown fond of the elderly woman, she sometimes wondered if Libby was becoming senile. She often talked non-stop, wavering in and out of a long-ago past.
Done watering, Sabrina pulled out her customer request notebook to check it against her recent book shipment. She still carried a generous assortment of new product, though with all the mega-booksellers moving into the area, she’d expanded her used section. She needed an edge that allowed her to compete. Cliff had been appalled when she’d told him she was veering in that direction, but otherwise, she wouldn’t last long against that kind of competition. So far, her strategy had paid off.
Toby emerged from the back, heading for a carton of used books on the counter. “I’ve logged these already,” he said, scooping up an armload. “Some of this old stuff is rad.” He hummed something Sabrina didn’t recognize as he disappeared down a book-lined aisle.
Libby made a sudden beeline for the counter.
Sabrina braced herself.
“Has Henry called for me?”
Sighing, Sabrina mustered a smile. “No, Libby. I’m sorry, but no one’s called for you.”
The woman’s hopeful expression sagged. “Well, he will. He promised,” she said in her usual raspy voice.
Sabrina squeezed the woman’s hand. Without fail, they played out this scenario whenever she came to the shop. Normally, Sabrina controlled the inevitable tug on her emotions. Today, however, her heart lurched and her eyes stung. What had happened to Libby’s Henry?
“Yes,” her voice caught. “He will.” She blinked back embarrassing tears. This ridiculous birthday disaster had her tied up in knots.
Libby shook her gnarled finger. “He’s an incredible lover, you know.”
Sabrina straightened. This wasn’t part of the routine. “I’m…I’m sure he is.”
“Has all the right moves.”
“How…how nice for you.”
“He plays his harmonica,” she rasped, “and I do this dance. I’ll show you.”
“That’s not necessary.” Sabrina glanced around. No other customers had come in and Toby was probably lost in the bowels of the sci-fi area. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Oh, yes, dear. You must learn, so you can try it on your own young man.” She threw her hands in the air and swiveled in what she must have meant to be a seductive motion. The music curled around them. “Gets ’em in the mood, you know.”
Not sure how to handle her, Sabrina cleared her throat, then came around the counter, and reached futilely toward the woman. “I don’t…I don’t have a young man.”
“No? Maybe…that’s…because…you…don’t do…the dance.” The older woman’s rasp intensified and her breathing became labored. “Gets the…blood pumping.”
“Libby…please, why don’t you sit down and rest a minute? I think I get the gist of it.”
“No…no…you must!”
Sabrina frowned. The woman looked ready to have a stroke and seemed determined enough to keep at it until Sabrina joined in. “Okay,” she said, raising her arms and swaying. “Just for a minute.” She glanced around again to ensure no one saw.
“More…hip.” Libby’s hips pivoted in exaggerated circles.
Sabrina chewed her lip in concentration. After a few moments, her muscles warmed and she smiled. The music flowed over her. Her body moved in tune with the sax’s sultry strains. “There. I think I’ve got it.”
“Oh, you’ve got it all right,” a deep masculine voice sounded from behind her. “The question is, are you giving any of it away?”
Embarrassment flooded Sabrina as she swung around to face a tall stranger. He stood a few feet inside the shop’s door. The light breeze ruffled his dark hair. His eyes, as black as coal, shone with undisguised admiration. His gaze ran over her hips, then up, pausing a long moment at her breasts,
