Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (61 page)

“The ones who claim they aren’t just haven’t found the right partner,” Mick countered. “Tell me more about this neighbor.”

At Jaime’s scowl, Mick only grinned. “Okay, at least tell me her name.”

“Now why would I tell you that? So you can go off and interrogate her?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Mick protested indignantly.

Jaime laughed. “I know a whole slew of people in your family who’d say otherwise. Why don’t you go pester one of them? I’m fine. Thanks for stopping by.”

Mick actually looked startled. “You’re kicking me out?”

“I am unless you want to sit down and fill me in on everything that’s going on at work, maybe bring me my laptop so I can stay on top of things for myself.”

Mick slapped him on the back. “Not happening, pal. You enjoy this break. Make the most of it. If you feel up to going to Luke’s pub later, let me know and I’ll come by to pick you up.”

As Mick left, Jaime glanced down at his restricting cast and shook his head. To his way of thinking, a vacation would involve waterskiing, maybe some hiking, definitely some sailing and kayaking. This wasn’t a vacation. It was torture.

And the only interesting prospect for breaking up the tedium had literally run away this morning without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

After her half-day at the library ended, Emma grabbed a tuna salad sandwich on a buttery croissant at Sally’s Café and ate it sitting on one of the benches along Shore Road. She never tired of views of the bay, the ospreys and occasional eagles that swooped through the blue sky or the laughter that drifted from children playing along the shoreline. The absence of that view was her only regret about the little house she’d bought a few months ago after living with her mom when she’d first moved to town. The only cottage she’d been able to afford wasn’t on the water, though if she peered between the trees in the fall, she could catch a glimpse of it across the road.

Today, feeling surprisingly content, she basked in the sunshine and view as she ate her late lunch, then debated going home to stare at her computer screen in the hope that inspiration for a second novel would finally strike. Instead, she opted for some surefire fiction by heading to the bookstore. That pile of books she’d put aside at the library would only last so long.

Emma found the owner, Shanna, an O’Brien by marriage, leafing through a catalog of upcoming books. They’d become instant friends when Emma moved to town and discovered the little shop with the outstanding collection of the latest books. Best of all, there hadn’t been a single copy of her old bestseller on the shelves to taunt her. Of course, Shanna had ordered it the minute she’d realized a local resident had written a novel, but at least she didn’t make a fuss about it or ask when the next book might be coming out.

“Oh, perfect timing,” Emma said eagerly, pouring herself a cup of Shanna’s notoriously weak coffee and joining her friend at a table in her little coffee area. “What’s coming out next month? Anything good?”

Shanna chuckled. “You can’t find enough books in the library?”

“Are there ever enough?” Emma asked, though she could feel color climb into her cheeks. It was true, as a book-aholic she did have an embarrassment of riches at her disposal.

“I suppose not,” Shanna agreed. Her expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before, Emma. You probably read as much or more than anyone else in town, including me. Why don’t you join our book club?”

Emma was startled by the invitation. “I thought it wasn’t a real book club. Aren’t all the members O’Briens? And isn’t it just an excuse to get together and gossip about your men and whatever the hottest news in town might be?”

“Mostly,” Shanna agreed. “But it would be really nice for me to have at least one other person there who might actually read the book.” Her expression brightened. “Or we could start another club here at the store. I do have a few customers who might be interested. They’re more serious readers than anyone in my family, much to my regret.”

More than ready to spend an occasional evening with company other than her own, Emma nodded at once. “Sure. Count me in for either one.”

Shanna looked surprised. “Seriously? You’d be interested?”

“Why not? It would be fun to talk to other people about books they’re reading. It’s the best way I know to discover new authors.”

“You mean aside from working in a library and hanging out with a bookstore owner?” Shanna teased.

Emma laughed. “Yes, aside from that. As to the other topic of discussion, I am woefully ignorant about town gossip, so that could be fun, too.”

“Then I’ll see what I can pull together, either with the family or here at the store. I’ll let you know when I have something specific.” She hesitated. “Changing directions, don’t you live at the end of Wisteria Lane in that cute little bungalow with all the wisteria arbors in the garden?”

Emma nodded.

“Would you consider doing me a favor then? Do you have a little time to spare?”

“Absolutely. Anything you need.”

“I took a phone order earlier from someone and promised I’d have the books dropped by. He can’t get around so easily. I was going to do it myself, but Davey has a soccer game and I promised I’d be there the minute I close up tonight. My son, bless his heart, was skeptical. To my regret, he has reason to be. I’ve let him down too many times lately thanks to being swamped at this place and with his two younger siblings. All that babysitting I was counting on my oldest to handle?” She shook her head and sighed. “Henry’s a great kid, but he’s not really into it, at least not as often as I could use him. Now that he’s getting ready for his senior year and looking at colleges, I can only play the mom card every so often.”

Emma felt a little tug of anticipation even as she asked, “Is your customer Jaime Alvarez, by any chance?”

Shanna’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so you know him?”

“We met this morning.”

“Perfect, then I won’t be asking you to stop by some total stranger’s. It shouldn’t take more than a minute. Jaime’s not feeling very social these days.”

“So I gathered.”

“Uh-oh. Did you two get off on the wrong foot?”

Emma described their meeting that morning. “I came off as a snippy librarian. I sounded a lot like my mom, I’m afraid.”

Shanna chuckled. “Knowing Jaime that just fueled his interest.”

“He’s a big flirt?”

“Always has been,” Shanna said. “Doesn’t matter if a woman is short, tall, thin or fat, married or single, Jaime flirts. It’s very flattering, as long as a woman’s smart enough not to take him seriously. I don’t think he’s a settling down kind of man. Of course, I’ve only been around him when he joins the family for dinners at Mick’s on these whirlwind visits of his. Could be my impression is all wrong.”

“Unfortunately that was my impression, too,” Emma admitted. 

“Just flirt back. It’s good practice,” Shanna advised. “I’ll grab those books for you.”

Emma reluctantly accepted the bag and headed toward home, her steps dragging as she got closer and closer to Bayside Retreat with its neat lawn and a flower garden that needed tending. Before turning up the walk, she finally gave in to the urge to peek inside the bag.

A new James Patterson thriller. Predictable. A Louise Penny mystery. Hmm. That was less predictable, A little intriguing, in fact. And what was this last one? A signed first edition of an old Thomas Black mystery by Earl Emerson, a Seattle author. That series had been one of Emma’s secret vices. Thomas was a little sexist, but the relationship in the books was wonderfully written.

“Find anything interesting in there?” an already familiar masculine voice taunted from the shadows of the front porch.

Emma nearly dropped the books. Knowing her cheeks had flushed red, she took her time approaching the house. “Sorry. I work at the town library. I love books. I couldn’t help wondering what you’d chosen.”

“You could have waited and asked,” he suggested, though the twinkle in his eyes suggested he wasn’t all that offended by her prying.

“I suppose that would have been the polite, less nosy way of handling it. Or I could have asked Shanna what you’d ordered when she asked me to drop them off.” She noted that he looked no less delicious in his perfectly dry, well-worn jeans and a faded University of Washington tee-shirt. One leg of the pants had been cut off to accommodate the cumbersome cast. “Were you expecting me?”

He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Shanna called and alerted me to clean up my language before you got here.” He studied her with warm brown eyes. “So, the two of you were talking about me. I’m flattered.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you’d heard what I told her.”

“Which explains why she was so clear about my minding my manners,” he said. “Would you like a glass of iced tea, a cup of coffee, a glass of wine?”

“That’s okay. I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I was just going to give you these and head home.”

“Stay,” he said.

There was an oddly pleading note in his voice.

“I’d enjoy the company,” he added persuasively.

Emma felt herself caught up in the intensity of his gaze. Against her better judgment, she sat down in the wicker chair next to his. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with your leg elevated?”

“Comfort is relative these days,” he said. “Truthfully, I couldn’t figure out a way to get the ottoman in the living room out here.”

“And being a man of action, not being able to figure things out is just one more thing that’s driving you nuts,” she guessed.

“You have no idea,” he confirmed. “Any thoughts?”

“Actually, yes. Let me see if I can find a solution,” she said, jumping up and heading for the door. She hesitated. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest, but don’t judge me on my housekeeping.”

Emma laughed. She walked into the house expecting the worst, but discovered that the living room was surprisingly tidy. The ottoman he’d mentioned was definitely way too cumbersome to be dragged onto the porch. An afternoon shower blowing in the right direction would ruin it, anyway.

In the kitchen, also neat as a pin except for a glass in the sink, she found exactly what she needed, a small plastic step stool. She grabbed that, found a pillow in the living room that looked more shabby than chic, and took both outside.

“Here you go,” she said triumphantly, arranging both in front of him and getting his casted leg settled just right. “Feel okay?”

“Perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

Emma sat back down, her hands folded primly in her lap in an attempt to keep herself from reaching out to touch the coal black hair that was just long enough to allow a few strands to curl against the tanned skin of his neck. With his olive complexion, the faint shadow of a beard and the occasional amused glint in his eyes, he reminded her of the sexy pirates she’d read about in some of the romance novels she’d once loved.

When she finally dared to meet his gaze, she discovered he was studying her intently. “Why the look? Do I have chocolate on my face? I ate a brownie at lunch.”

“You say that with an awful lot of guilt,” he teased. “Are brownies against the rules?”

“What rules?”

“I’m not sure, but you seem to have a lot of them.”

She sighed. “I suppose I do. My mother’s a stickler for the whole quiet-in-the-library thing, handling books with respect, and so on. She was a single mom, so that carried over to the way she raised me. I grew up with a lot of rules meant to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“And did you stay there?”

“Most of the time,” she conceded. “A part of me really wants to rebel, but it’s a pattern that’s hard to break.” Uncomfortable with the whole topic of living according to the rules, she said, “Tell me about the books you ordered. The James Patterson I can see, but the other two surprised me.”

“You’ve read Louise Penny?”

Emma nodded. “I love the Canadian setting and Inspector Gamache.”

“Any reason you think I wouldn’t love them, too?”

“Not violent enough?” she suggested, then winced. “I’m stereotyping, aren’t I?”

“Just a little. How about Earl Emerson? Have you read his books?”

“Love them,” she admitted. “I’m so envious that you snagged a signed first edition.”

“Pure luck. When I mentioned his name to Shanna, she said she’d just gotten this book from an estate sale. She’s trying to increase her selection of signed books, especially first editions. I’ve spent enough time in the Pacific Northwest now that I love anything that’s set there. Emerson tells a good story. I’ve read this one, but I like the idea of having a signed first edition. Maybe I’ll start collecting the whole series.” He chuckled. “You look surprised.”

“I guess I am.”

“Didn’t think I could read?” he taunted.

“Didn’t think we’d share the same taste,” she countered. She stood up quickly. “I really do have to go. Enjoy your books. If you need more, I’d be happy to bring you some from the library or pick them up from Shanna if you prefer to buy them.”

“Can I ask one thing before you go?”

“I suppose,” she said.

“You love books, but just this morning you referred to your job at the library as a deadend situation.”

“Actually that’s how you described it. I just didn’t disagree,” she corrected, then sighed. “Unlike my mother who has a degree in library science and loves every nook and cranny of the Chesapeake Shores library, this wasn’t my goal. It’s just a way to fill some hours of the day.”

“While?”

She regarded him blankly. “While what?”

“What are you waiting for? What goal is eluding you?”

Emma always hated that question. Once upon a time she’d answered eagerly. She was going to be a writer. Then she’d actually had a book published. She’d
been
a writer, one with a bestseller, no less.

It was hard now, though, to explain that she was a washed up writer at the age of thirty-three and after only one book and countless failed attempts at a follow-up. She didn’t like sharing all that with anyone these days, but for some reason she was especially reluctant to tell Jaime her sad life story.