Ten Thousand Words (30 page)

Bianca gave a little cough. I’d ceased taking photos. Being so caught up in the memory of Xanthe, I’d dazed off, and I was staring at the curtains filtering the late morning sunlight. Stunned, I looked into Bianca’s cocoa eyes.

Her pixie face split into a heart-stopping smile. “Who is she?”

My spine snapped straight. “Let’s get some of you standing.”

Overall, the shoot was a success. I was more than confident that we had done the perfume ads justice. When I was done stowing my equipment in the boot of my car, Bianca sauntered out of the lobby of the hotel and came toward me, a knowing smirk on her face.

“FairFawkes or Gabby’s?” I asked her, opening the car door.

“If you are happier taking me to FairFawkes, I can walk to Gabby’s. I do not mind,” she said in her French accent, smiling as she slid into the car.

Gabriella’s was closer. Bianca would have a long walk if I took her to FairFawkes.

“Gabby’s it is,” I told her.

Bianca was quiet for a few minutes. Her light perfume filled up my car. I liked how she smelled—clean, fresh, dainty. It was so different from Xanthe. Xanthe’s scent grabbed me, saturated my senses, drugged me even.

“You really won’t tell me about her? I won’t say anything to Gabby. She is very upset with you.”

“I know,” I replied.

“This woman must be special. I never thought you were the type.”

“The type?”

“To want to be tied to one woman. I suppose, it only takes the right woman though.” She sighed dramatically. “It is a shame for me, for I was so looking forward to seeing you. You are one of my favorite lovers, Ollie.”

“You were one of mine, too.”

Seeing that I had put a smile on her face, I believed I would miss Bianca the most.

“You still have told me nothing of her.”

I exhaled. “She’s different, Bibi. She’s nothing like us.”

“I suspect she would have to be.” She sounded like Trey.

“I’m not ready to expose her to us. We’re not always the nicest people. And she’s too wonderful.”

“You know I am not like that,” she stated.

“True. Out of all of us, you are the nicest.”

I pulled up in front of Gabriella’s building.

“Thank you for the ride,” she said. “I promise not to say anything. But you should not be afraid to introduce her to us. If she has the strength to take you on, then no doubt, she could hold her own.”

“It’s not that, Bibi. I never want her to feel less than magnificent, and Gabby can be ruthless.”

“Mmm…” she hummed. “You and I are much alike as well, Ollie. If she has your heart, then she must be something…else.”

“You have no idea.”

“Has Trey told you, we’re all going out for dinner tonight?”

“No.”

She smiled. “Trey is so very much a sly
fox
, eh?” she joked, smiling at her play of words with Trey’s last name. “I will see you later tonight.”

“Maybe,”
I stressed. “I haven’t—”

Laughing, Bianca leaned over and brushed her mouth across mine. It wasn’t meant to be sexual, and I felt that from her. She was French. It was how she was.

Back at FairFawkes, I put away the equipment and then pulled out my phone to call Xanthe.

“Hello?” she answered.

I heard the fast clicking of fingers over a keyboard.

“Hey, Xanthe Love.”

She sighed when she’d heard it was me, and I had the impression it wasn’t in exasperation.

“Can I see you tonight?” I asked.

“I’ve already made plans with Jaime and Ricki.”

“Damn it,” I grumbled. Looked like I’d be having dinner with Trey, Bianca, and Gabriella after all. He certainly wouldn’t let me off the hook to mope at home. “What are you doing now?”

“Working.”

“At the bookstore?” I asked, catching sight of the decent-size package from Mandy sitting on my desk. I had thought I’d start tackling them now, but I could easily do it anywhere with a table.

“It
is
where I work,” she replied dryly.

“You need some coffee?”

“Damn it, Ollie—”

“See you soon,” I told her before hanging up.

Grabbing the box—
shit, it was heavier than it’d looked
—I hurried out of my office. Trey caught me just as I was about to charge through the front door.

“Oliver.”

“Not now, Trey.”

“Yes, now! Dinner tonight with the girls. It’s a new place not far from here. I’m picking them up at seven, so meet us here by seven thirty.”

“And if I don’t want to go?”

He shrugged. “Don’t really care what you want right now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I snapped.

He grinned wickedly at me. “You look good today, by the way. You wear a decent night’s sleep well.”

“See you,” I told him before leaving without a backward glance.

Xanthe

Most of the time I spent at the bookstore was on the computer. It wasn’t like there was ever a mad rush for people to get their hands on used books. We had our regulars, of course. But I’d use the downtime to write and connect with fans and my cyber friends, like Mandy.

The stories, my words, were coming back. All of yesterday, I had felt them swelling up inside me, and I’d started writing again when I made it home from Ellen’s with Beefcake snoozing in his carrier.

My current work in progress was the fifth book of the Paranormal Hunters series. Dreamstone didn’t know I’d already written the fourth,
Blood Moon
. I’d been getting ready to send it to my editor, Johanna, when Dreamstone contacted me. Postponing with Johanna, I’d made sure that I was able to get it in writing that I could continue to use her services if I signed. Another editor might change the tone of the series, and I didn’t want that. Dreamstone had agreed to my terms.

Now, I was anxiously waiting for the minute when Oliver would show up. Aunt Ellen was in the back, going through a box of used books someone had brought by that morning, so I was in the front with my laptop, waiting for the occasional straggler to come in and poke around.

With Ollie on the way, I needed to occupy myself with manual labor. Pulling out the tea canisters, I began wiping and dusting the shelves.

The bells above the door jingled. My hands got sweaty—and so did my boobs and armpits. Turning around, I saw one of our regulars, an ancient-looking man, zeroing in on our cheapest used book bin.

“Hi! Let me know if I can help you with anything,” I called out in Dutch.

The old man just waved. Cursing my overactive sweat glands, I turned back to my task. Aunt Ellen dusted in here enough, so it wasn’t like I had to do much.

The bells tinkled again. This time, I waited, breathing deeply in an attempt to control the sweaty pits and tits.

“Xanthe.” Oliver’s voice was dark, deep, rich, and smooth.

Taking another deep breath, I turned around and got the full blast of casually dressed Ollie in dark denim jeans, a button-down plaid fleece, and a slouched brown beanie on top of his head. He was just so fucking good-looking.

“Hey, Ollie,” I said, trying to sound a lot cooler than I felt.

Under one arm, he was carrying a package. In his other hand, he held a cardboard cup holder with three to-go cups.

“Is Aunt Ellen here?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s in the back,” I replied.

He smiled, and my knees turned to rubber. I might have squeezed my thighs together a little. His effect on me was dangerous.

Indicating to the package under his arm, he said, “I’m just going to place this over there.” He tilted his head toward the café tables.

“Sure.”

After doing so, he grabbed the smallest cup, and as if we actually allowed people to walk into the back of the store, he disappeared down the hallway.

“Ass,” I grunted under my breath.

Stacking the tea canisters back on the shelf, I heard Aunt Ellen’s old-lady cackle, and I had to fight the urge to grin. Ollie was back there long enough for me to reopen my laptop and check out a few of my accounts before he came out. When he did, I pretended to ignore him.

He ignored my pretend-ignore and made his way around the counter to stand behind me. “What are you doing?”

With an irritated huff, I slapped my laptop shut before he could see the obscene amount of eye-candy in my News Feed. “Research.”

“Really? That was an awful lot of naked male research going on.”

My cheeks grew seven shades hotter. “What are you doing here?” I grumped, turning around to face him.

“Visiting two of my five favorite females.” He braced his long arms on the counter behind me, effectively trapping me. “You’re adorable when you blush, you know that?” he said softly.

Jealousy flared up inside me at the thought that he had three other favorite females. “Why don’t you go bother them then?”

“One of them is in Brazil while two are in England. And, honestly, they’re not half as funny as Aunt Ellen and nowhere near as fun as you.”

I arched an eyebrow at him.

He arched one back. “You know I’m talking about my mother and sisters, right?”

I do now,
I thought. “Yes.”

“Mmhmm. You’re cute when you’re jealous, too.”

“I am not jealous!” I declared heatedly.

The bells chimed, and I craned my neck around to see the old man leaving.

“I think he stole a few books,” said Ollie.

“He always does,” I replied, turning my head around to face him once more. “He’ll bring them back next week for different ones.”

We were alone in the front of the shop. Ollie moved in closer. I had nowhere to go. He smelled so damn fine, looked so damn good…

“I’ve missed you, Xanthe Love.”

And he was in a really good mood.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Oliver was so close that, if I took a deep enough breath, my breasts would brush his chest. I had to drop my head back to look into his eyes.

“I’m dying to kiss you, woman,” he told me, his voice going husky.

My face was already tilted up to his, so I closed my eyes. His beard tickled my nose and lips—that fucking scent was doing me in—as he pressed his lips to my brow. He breathed in deep, and his chest brushed mine. He sighed a soft moan on his exhale, and I was done for. His hands came up to hold my face, and his mouth moved from my brow to my lips.

Oliver was not fighting fair.

I melted into him, my arms sliding up his chest to encircle his neck. His hands went from my face to my arse, pulling me into his groin and squeezing hard. The rest of the world disappeared, and all I knew was how awesome this was, how amazing he tasted, how his opiate-laced beard of epicness lulled my senses.

He pushed me back against the counter, grinding into me, and my slut legs parted to let him rub me in just the right place. I moaned and then gasped.

Holy shit!
We’re in the fucking bookstore!

Aunt Ellen had probably heard that.

“Fuck,”
he swore, panting heavily and pushing himself away from me. “I’m sorry, love. That…I didn’t mean to—I mean, I
did
, but—”

I nodded, trying to catch my own breath. “Gotcha. Just…keep your beard funk the hell away from me.”

He grinned wickedly. “The hell I will. But I’ll keep my distance while you’re at work.”

I cleared my throat and glanced over at the table with the box. “What’s that?”

“Mandy sent my penance. I thought I’d get started on it.”

“Oh. Let’s open it and see then.”

From under the register, I took out an X-acto knife and made my way over to the tables.

“Sure,” he replied, coming up behind me.

The heat coming off him as he stood there and watched me slice through the tape enveloped me. Reaching around me with both hands, he pressed his front to my back, peering over my shoulder, as he pulled up the two top box flaps.

“Oliver,”
I hissed.

“Yeah?”

“Stop it.”

“I can’t help it, Xanthe,” he said softly in my ear. “Your bum is just so…”

He pressed his groin against my rear, and to my horror, I pushed back in reflex.

“I think it likes me, too,” he said.

“I swear to God, Ollie, if you don’t back off—”

He took a step back, and I instantly regretted it. Instead of letting myself be disappointed, I finished opening the box. Inside were the large cards with the
Haunted Bonds
cover he was supposed to sign at the Boston signing along with what looked to be a thousand pens with
Donovan Colt
scrawled in a manly script down the side. There was also the roster of names and addresses.

“Did you buy envelopes?” I asked.

“Oh. No. I guess I should go do that.”

“It would help. You should address all the envelopes first and then each card you sign. All you have to do is write
To So-and-So
, sign your name, and put them in. I guess they each get a pen, too. There are a lot more pens here than names.”

I was totally going to steal a few of those. Not even
I
had a Donovan Colt pen. And the stack of cards was definitely more than what was needed. I thought I’d pilfer some of those, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he told me. “How many should I get?”

“Hmm…” There were twenty-five names to each page, and there were thirteen pages. “Four hundred should cover it, giving you some extras in case you screw up.”