He's No Angel (Heaven Can Wait Book 1) (4 page)

With that single smile she transformed from frowning and serious to… wow. That smile lit up her entire face and creased a pair of shallow dimples in her cheeks. Her eyes glowed behind her glasses and then she laughed-- a captivating sound that immediately made him want to join in.

And then she moved from behind the desk.

And double wow.

Surely her buttoned-up white shirt with the library’s
So Many Books, So Little Time
logo printed on the front, black pants, dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, and glasses shouldn’t have ignited his libido, but he suddenly felt as if he’d been hit with a blow torch. She looked studious and conservative, prim and proper, and kinda nerdy-- exactly like he’d imagined a librarian should look, if he’d ever given it any thought. Which he hadn’t.

Until he saw her. And suddenly all he could think about was unbuttoning that straight-laced shirt, undoing that prissy bun, and backing her up against the nearest book case to find out if her gorgeous plump mouth tasted as good as it looked. Yeah… there was definitely nothing prim or proper about those full lips.

She stood surrounded by that group of kids, greeting them with smiles and hugs and high fives, laughing at their antics as they all vied for her attention. They waved crayon drawings at her, and she accepted them all, examining each one and exclaiming over it as if it were made by Picasso himself. The kids basked in the glow of her praise and it was clear they adored her. Still smiling, she began herding them toward the media room where he and Dave would give their program.

Were all librarians like her? Damned if he knew. He’d never spent much time in a library.  In fact, he’d be hard pressed to name the last time he’d set foot in one. High school, maybe? Hmm… probably not, given his less than stellar academic record. Maybe middle school. Maybe not even then. But whenever it was, he sure as hell hadn’t felt like he’d been whacked in the head with a two by four. And by a woman that normally would not light his fire. Yet there was no denying that he felt as if he’d been set ablaze.

Which was crazy. He was about to tear his gaze away and put those few seconds down to temporary insanity, but just then her attention focused on a small boy Liam judged to be about seven or eight who’d hung back from the group. She walked to him then hunkered down so they were on eye level. Given the tears shimmering in the kid’s eyes and his quivering chin, it was clear he was upset about something, although he was clearly trying to brave it out and not cry. Liam couldn’t hear what she said, but the warmth and compassion in her gaze and tone obviously comforted the child because a few seconds later he wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a fierce hug that nearly knocked her on her butt. Then she handed the kid a tissue, took one herself, and they both gave their noses huge, loud blows. The kid dissolved into giggles then ran off to join the group.

Something about that exchange seemed to flip a switch inside Liam. Maybe because he remembered being that kid-- the shy one who’d often hung back from the group. He also vividly recalled fighting back tears one day in fifth grade, shortly after Grandpa Bill had died, appalled and terrified that the other kids would see him and tease him mercilessly, call him a crybaby. How his teacher had seen his distress and sent him off on an errand to the main office, an act of mercy and kindness he’d never forgotten. His own childhood experiences had taught him that it took a special kind of person to both see when a kid was hurting or felt left out and the heart to do something about it, and it was a trait he greatly admired.  And this woman clearly had it.

He’d stood there gawking, wondering what in God’s name was happening to him when she turned toward him. And his ability to think of anything at all vanished. Their gazes met and Liam swore that for the space of several heartbeats everything stopped-- including his heartbeat--and he was walloped by something... lust? Desire? Most definitely. But also something else. Something more. Something he couldn’t name because he’d never felt it before.

For those crazy seconds all the chatter faded away and it was just him and her. Then she’d blinked behind her glasses, the lenses of which seemed to magnify her brown eyes and approached them. Brief business-like introductions followed. Emma… her name was Emma. Emma Heely.

Feeling as if he was in a trance, Liam opened his mouth to say hello, but instead, “That boy… what did you say to him?” popped out.

The question clearly surprised her. “One of my favorite quotes: You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

Liam frowned. “That sounds somehow familiar. Who said that? A president? One of those philosopher guys?”

She regarded him through very serious eyes. “Winnie the Pooh.”

An image flashed through Liam’s mind… him tucked in his childhood bed, Grandpa Bill sitting on the edge of the mattress, reading from a worn copy of
Winnie the Pooh
. He’d read Liam that story dozens of times. And had said those words.
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.
A rapid kaleidoscope of memories flicked through his brain, and he could almost hear his grandfather’s deep voice, whispering those words before a Little League game. Before a swim meet. The night before a big test.

Those words… words his grandfather had repeated to him so many times. Words Liam had forgotten. Until now. Until she’d said them. And jogged his memory.

He tried to think of something,
anything
to say so he didn’t just stand there gaping at her like a mute dope. But no, he just stared, rendered silent by the connection he felt with her. She no doubt thought he was a complete zero weirdo.

She’d given them a quick briefing on the set-up for their program then left them to join the kids. Liam could only shake his head and wonder what had just happened to him and how fast he could sign up for a library card.

Clearly his reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed because Dave had whispered to him, “Jeez, dude, I think you just drooled on your boot. Since when does the buttoned-up, nerdy, bookworm type ring your bell?”

Since about thirty seconds ago, apparently
. A sentiment he might have considered saying out loud if he’d been able to locate his voice.

“Definitely not what you usually go for,” Dave said.

Liam cleared this throat. “Um, no.” True. But also true was the fact that the last time he’d wanted a woman this intensely, this quickly was… hell, he had no idea. Nor could he recall ever experiencing such a profound, gut-level connection to a woman, especially one he’d just met.

“I’d steer clear of Miss Emma Heely if I were you,” continued Dave in an undertone. “Melanie’s met her. They had coffee together a couple weeks ago.”

“Melanie didn’t like her?”

“No, she liked her a lot.”

“Then why would you warn me off her?”

“Melanie told me Emma moved here three months ago to escape a bad break-up with-- you guessed it-- a fireman. Apparently she’s not only sworn off men for the foreseeable future, but she’s more likely to dismember a fireman than give him the time of day. Besides, she doesn’t strike me as one-night stand material which makes her
totally
not your type.”

A statement Liam couldn’t disagree with-- except for those feelings of discontentment and emptiness he’d been experiencing. None of which he’d shared with Dave. Emma didn’t strike Liam as one-night stand material either, admittedly his type since his last relationship ended a year and a half ago. But that didn’t seem to matter. He was fiercely drawn to her in spite of himself. And determined to act on that attraction. He’d never encountered a woman who quoted Winnie the Pooh, particularly the one passage he remembered from his grandfather. No way could he resist.

Unfortunately Dave’s words had proven correct.  While she’d been polite, Emma Heely definitely hadn’t caught any of the flirtatious balls he’d tossed to her that day, or any of the other dozen times he’d been compelled to visit the library in the four weeks since she’d knocked him flat. In fact, it was pretty clear that she went out of her way to avoid him. Any other time he would have shrugged it off and moved on. After all, it wasn’t as if there weren’t lots of other women on the planet, many of them eager to hook up with firemen. And really, until he’d stepped into the library and temporarily lost his marbles, getting involved with a woman for more than a short (like three to four hour) duration wasn’t anywhere on his radar. He’d uprooted his entire life and moved to this small town in search of peace and quiet, and in his experience, those two things were not synonymous with a relationship.

Still, while a relationship hadn’t been on his radar, he also couldn’t deny those frequent feelings of envy toward Dave and Matt. They made having a wife, and in Dave’s case a baby on the way as well, seem like something really great, as opposed to something to avoid at all costs. Liam figured he’d find The One someday, but certainly not any time soon. In the meanwhile, he’d just hook up with whoever caught his interest, a plan that had worked out great. Until he’d walked into the London library and been knocked off his feet by a Pooh quoting, buttoned-up, book goddess.

Emma Heely. He could only shake his head in complete bafflement. She wasn’t his type at all. She was clearly a brainiac while he’d barely squeaked through high school and two years of community college. He’d excelled at his EMT and firefighting classes, but other than that, a great student he was not.

Yet none of that seemed to matter as there was just no shrugging off his reaction to her. Good thing he liked a challenge.

Still, the slow approach he’d taken for the last month hadn’t worked at all, so he figured he had nothing to lose by stepping things up.

“I’m not going to the library,” he said. Not a lie. He was going to the florist first-- then the library.

“Hitting up the florist first, huh?”

Damn. Dave clearly knew him too well. Plus, while there were a lot of advantages to living in a small town, it was damn near impossible to keep anything on the down low. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, you know how sisters chat about everything-- Ruthie’s working at Buds and Blooms this morning.  She mentioned to Melanie that you’d placed an order for pick-up.” Dave’s expression turned quizzical. “What I want to know is what the heck are pee-wees? Tiny flowers?”

“Peonies. Not pee-wees.
Peonies
.” Liam shook his head. “How is it that Melanie hasn’t tossed you out on your ass?”

“That whole hot sex thing. I’m great in the sack. So what the heck are peonies?”

“Google it. Then buy your wife some. Bet it would make her happy. And you know what they say about a happy wife.”

“Sure do. I’
m on it. Right after I finish burning these hash browns. Hey-- good luck with Emma. You’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks.” And yeah, based on his lack of success so far he was going to need it.

He left the firehouse and crossed the parking lot to his pick-up. After tossing his duffle onto the passenger seat, he headed toward Buds and Blooms.

Time to put Operation Emma into action.

Chapter Three

“Emma honey, that hunka-hunka burnin’ fireman Liam Gallagher who’s all ablaze for you just pulled into the parking lot.”

Emma Heely’s head jerked up from her study of the spread sheet on her computer screen. Barbara Davis, her admin, stood in the doorway to Emma’s office, regarding Emma over the edge of her bifocals, her bright blue eyes gleaming with delight. Born and raised in London, Barb had worked at the library since the day it had opened forty-three years ago. The upside to that was she was fabulous at her job-- the best admin Emma had ever had, which made Emma’s job as library director much easier. Barb knew everything that went on in London, especially within the confines of the library.

The downside was that she knew everything that went on in London, especially within the confines of the library. And she wasn’t in the least bit shy about sharing her observations and opinions regarding those goings-on.

Like that Liam Gallagher had just arrived. And that he was “all ablaze” for Emma.

Liam Gallagher
. Emma’s lips pursed in annoyance even as her heart gave a crazy lurch, one she immediately put down to irritation. Of course it was irritation. And nothing more. Because
he
was irritating. Him and his gorgeous hazel eyes that looked either blue or green or even golden brown depending on what he was wearing.  Him and his chiseled features and perfect lips, not to mention the can’t-stop-staring way he filled out jeans and a T-shirt, and his knee-wilting smile. No man had a right to be that attractive. At least no man she had zero intention of involving herself with. Ever. In any way.

She was done with men. Done, done,
done.
Well, at least temporarily.  Common sense and statistics indicated that someday she’d dip her toes back in the treacherous waters of the dating pool, but since statistics also showed that women who’d suffered a bad break-up more often than not dated the same type of man again, she was determined to be extra cautious. No way was she going to fall victim to that particular statistic. Which meant avoiding firemen as if they harbored E-coli. Especially firemen who looked like they’d just wrapped up a GQ photo spread. Been there, done that, never again.

But ignoring Liam Gallagher was no easy task. Not only was he ridiculously attractive, he seemed hell-bent on flirting with her. Which she found pretty baffling. A guy who looked like him probably had supermodels trailing after him, so why was he flirting with
her
? A supermodel she most definitely was not. No doubt Liam was just like her fireman ex. Brian had flirted with every woman who crossed his path, including her. Unfortunately, instead of listening to her better judgment which had smartly pointed out that hunky guys rarely went for nerdy women, at least not in any meaningful way, she’d stupidly responded.

Big mistake.

Before Brian came along, she’d dated mostly geeks and nerds. Not because she was only attracted to geeks and nerds-- hey, what woman didn’t lust over a gorgeous hunk?-- but because the geeks and nerds were pretty much the only ones interested in her. The closest she’d ever come to dating anyone even remotely athletic had been in high school when she’d gone to homecoming with Melvin Schnettiker, a member of the junior varsity bowling team. A hunk magnet she definitely was not. So when handsome, heroic firefighter Brian Mitchell had asked her out, Emma had been stunned. And flattered. And had fallen hard and fast. And had her heart stomped flat. She hadn’t known better then. But she sure did now. Which meant she had every intention of avoiding Liam Gallagher-- who was even more attractive than her ex-- as much as possible.

The first time Liam had flirted with her, the day she’d met him, she’d wondered if she’d misread his signals. After all, she didn’t exactly excel at the art of flirtation. But there was no mistaking it when he’d visited the library the next day. Since then she’d made certain she was very busy whenever he came in-- on the phone, in a meeting, at the copying machine. And okay, fine, she’d even hid out in the ladies room one time. It was called self-preservation. And since he was now back again, those self-preservation instincts were on high alert.

Schooling her features into the cool, professional mask she’d perfected years ago, Emma asked Barb, “Have you finished printing out the flyers for next month’s after school programs?”

Barb planted her hands on her ample hips. “Honey, didn’t you hear what I said? Liam Gallagher-- ”

“Is in the parking lot. Yes, I heard. I just don’t know what that has to do with me.”

“Bless your heart. Of course you do. That man is smitten with a capital ‘s.’ Why this is the third time this week alone he’s been in here.”

Emma pursed her lips. She’d attended graduate school in North Carolina so she knew darn well what “bless your heart” meant. It was a nice, southern way of saying You’re Queen of the Dipshits. “There are lots of people who come to the library three times a week.”

“Of course there are,” Barb agreed. “This is a wonderful place. Always has been. And it’s even better since you took the helm. But none of those other people are coming in just to see
you
. I didn’t fall off the turnip trunk yesterday so don’t try to tell me you haven’t noticed the way that man looks at you. Like you’re banana puddin’ and he’s just dying for some dessert.”

Oh, she’d noticed all right. It was enough to make any woman with a pulse break into a sweat. Which was why she’d taken to escaping to her office (or, um, the ladies room) whenever he came in. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now about those flyers-- ”

“It’s enough to throw me right back into menopausal hot flashes,” Barb continued as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “I swear if a man looked at me like that I’d drag him off to the nearest no-tell motel and have my wicked way with him. Even better if it was on a Wednesday so I could get the senior citizen discount.”

Emma smothered the laugh that rose in her throat and forced herself to look stern. “Too Much Information, Barb. Seriously, TMI. Let’s stay focused on work-- ”

“He’s carrying a box.” Barb shot her a knowing look. “A
big
box.”

Over the past three months since she’d moved to London to take the director position, Emma had learned many things about the workings of a small town public library which differed greatly from her previous experiences at a big city library. One of those things had been the quirks of her staff. Her previous staff hadn’t called her honey or greeted her with hugs or brought her loaves of homemade cornbread or offered to help her plant herbs in her garden. That was just the way things were done in this small southern town.

And she’d also learned that once Barb got started on a topic, she was like a hound dog with a bone. She wasn’t going to let go until she’d chewed it to bits.

Emma knew Barb meant well. The older woman was warm and generous and treated everyone who walked into the library as if they were treasured family members, including Emma. In truth, Barb was like the kind, motherly mom Emma had never had and always wanted, and so long as the subject wasn’t Emma’s love life, it was all good. Unfortunately, Barb’s latest obsession was none other than Emma’s love life, or lack thereof. Such a conversation never would have flown at Emma’s last library, but things were different here in London.

Deciding this chat would end faster if she just went with the flow rather than trying to swim upstream, she said, “A big box? Maybe it’s a donation of supplies from the firehouse.”

“It’s not that kind of box. It’s a
florist’s
box.” Barb’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Honey, he’s bringing you flowers!”

Emma frowned. “Why on earth would he do that?”

Barb looked toward the ceiling. “For a smart girl you ask the silliest questions. Why, he’s courting you, of course. Isn’t it romantic?”

“Actually, no. It’s… unwelcome. And a waste of his time. So I hope you’re wrong.”

“Oh, honey, I’m never wrong about matters of the heart. I can smell romance like a cat can smell tuna. I’m known here in London as the Kiss Whisperer. You and that handsome young man are, without a doubt, fated to kiss.” She shot Emma a saucy wink. “And a whole lot more.”

To her chagrin, heat flooded Emma’s face. Great. She hated when she blushed. While some women flushed a pretty pink and looked adorable, Emma turned a horrible mottled scarlet that made her look like she’d been stricken by the measles. Definitely not cute.

“Well, this time you’re wrong,” Emma said in her most repressive librarian tone. “Nothing’s going to happen between me and him. Nothing.”

“Pshaw. Why, you haven’t been on a single date since you moved to London. You’re practically a recluse and you’re much too young and pretty for that kind of nonsense. Listen to me, honey. Just because your last beau broke your heart doesn’t mean all men are the south end of a horse. You need to give another man a chance. Like Liam Gallagher. And don’t hold it against him that he’s a fireman. One rotten apple doesn’t mean the whole bushel is bad.”

Emma mentally kicked herself for telling Barb about her prior relationship. At the end of Emma’s first week of work, Barb had invited her over for a home cooked meal. They’d ended up chatting non-stop and before they’d even made it halfway through dinner, Emma had felt as if she’d known Barb her entire life. Emma hadn’t meant to confess her heartbreak over Brian, but something about Barb just made words fall from Emma’s mouth. The tale had somehow slipped out right after Barb had shared the story of how her forty-year marriage had ended three years prior when her husband left her for one of his co-workers.

Barb crossed to Emma’s desk and hitched one hip onto the edge. “I care about you, honey. I want to see you happy.”

Emma reached out and patted Barb’s hand. “I know. And I appreciate your concern. But I’m fine. I just don’t need or want a man cluttering up my life right now.” Right. Especially another fireman. One who no doubt had a mile-long trail of broken hearts strewn behind him.

“Oh, yes, I’ll agree that men are big clutterer-uppers,” Barb said, nodding. “And Lord knows they can be big pains in the patootey at times, but really they just can’t help it. It’s in their DNA. As my mama used to say, ‘If it has tires or testicles, it’s gonna give you trouble.’” Barb glanced over her shoulder. “And speaking of testicles, he just came through the front door.”

Emma nearly swallowed her tongue. “We were
not
speaking of testicles,” she hissed.

Barb looked at her in surprise. “Well of course we weren’t, honey, any more than we were talking about tires. We’re talking about
men
.”

“Fine. The point is I’m swamped this morning and don’t want to see any men.”

“Don’t worry, honey. You get back to work. I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you.”

Barb blew her a kiss then left the office, closing the door the behind her.  Emma heaved a relieved breath and rolled her shoulders to relax some of the tension tightening her muscles.  She’d just returned her attention to her spread sheet when she heard the murmur of voices outside the door, one unmistakably Barb’s and the other unmistakably male. Barb laughed then a knock sounded. Before Emma could answer, the door swung open and Barb stood in the doorway, her face creased in a huge smile.

“Liam Gallagher is here to see you, Emma,” Barb said in a voice that dripped with more butter and sugar than pecan pie, her expression the personification of innocence. Emma treated her to her very best milk-curdling glare, but it bounced off Barb like shrapnel off an armored tank.

“Go right on in, honey,” Barb said to Liam, stepping from the doorway to give him room. “I’ll get on those flyers you needed, Emma. And I’ll hold your calls so you’re not disturbed. Y’all have a nice chat, ya hear?”

Before Emma could so much as blink, Liam Gallagher, all 6’4”, brown-haired, hazel-eyed gorgeous inches of him, crossed the threshold. Barb, who Emma could have cheerfully banished to Siberia, waggled her fingers at Emma behind Liam’s broad back then closed the door. After shooting the door a scowl that, if scowls could scorch wood would have rendered Emma’s door blackened and emitting smoke, she turned her attention to her unwanted guest.

Her office was small and he seemed to take up ninety-nine percent of it. And clearly he breathed too much because it felt like he used up all the oxygen as well. Since she wasn’t quite ready to look into his eyes, she focused instead on the long, white, glossy rectangular florist box cradled in his arms. Or at least she tried to focus on the box, but unfortunately her eyeballs were momentarily distracted by those big strong arms. She zeroed in on the bit of tattoo visible beneath the edge of his T-shirt’s sleeve. To her horror her fingers actually twitched with the desire to pull up that sleeve and take a closer look. Her horror multiplied with the realization that she’d get a much better look if he just took off his shirt.

She ripped her gaze away from his skin and centered her attention on the box he held. It was tied with a pale pink ribbon and topped with an enormous matching bow. Darn it, pink was her favorite color. And double darn it, she loved flowers.

“Good morning, Emma.”

Her gaze jerked up and collided with his at those softly spoken words. Unlike their past encounters when he’d looked at her with teasing, flirtatious warmth, he now regarded her through very serious eyes that looked almost smoky gray today thanks to his black T-shirt. Her inner voice instructed her to stand. To walk to the door. To tell him she was busy, make some excuse about a meeting. To escort him out of her office then close-- and lock-- the door behind him.