Awakening Beauty. Amy Fetzer J.
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“Watch the traffic,” Lane said. “There are some reckless drivers out there.”
“Being the graceful victor is out of the question, huh?” Tyler said after the boy left.
“It’s not every day the town playboy slams into my poor defenseless car.”
“You forgave me, and who said I was a playboy?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh and walked behind the counter. “Who hasn’t, McKay?” She slid an extra flyer in front of her, reading the list of events and ignoring him. Which was next to impossible.
“Lies, I swear.”
Lane looked up. He was smiling, and she thought, he’s dangerous, get him out of here. “You needn’t defend yourself. I form my own opinions and though I know who you are, I don’t care what you do.”
“Intriguing,” he said. “A woman who doesn’t care what gossips have to say?”
She lifted her gaze, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. What did he know about gossips? A few locals musing about his love life? Hah. He should try life in the big leagues. When people in Outer Mongolia knew what you had for breakfast or what you wore to bed. Now that took gossip to a whole new level. And put it on the front page of a tabloid that every person in America who goes through a checkout line at the grocery store can see.
Oh, yeah. There was gossip and then there was gossip.
“Isn’t there someplace you should be?” she asked, anxious to get him out of her shop, out of her life. “Like work?”
Tyler felt something in him pitch by just looking into her eyes. She could probably give a man frostbite without even trying. And yet, something told him, it might be worth it just to see if he could start a fire in solid ice. “Nope.”
“Ahh, the life of Riley.”
“It’s raining,” he reminded her. “You won’t get many customers today.”
“You’d be surprised what people will do for a good book on a day like this. It’s perfect curl-up-and-read weather.”
He wouldn’t mind curling up right here. The stray thought surprised him and he blinked as if to catch it back. After all, she with her waterlogged-librarian look wasn’t exactly the stuff of dreams. But still…those whiskey eyes of hers continued to draw him in. Whether he wanted to be or not.
“Are you working the festival?” He pointed to the flyer she’d taken from the boy and was taping to her counter.
“No.”
Now that surprised him. The Winter Festival was the one time a year when every merchant in Bradford banded together. Good for the town, good for business. Plus, it was a hell of a lot of fun, with different events scheduled every day for a couple of weeks. People came from all over the state for it. “How come?”
“I chose not to.”
“Party pooper.”
She was trying not to smile again. He could tell.
“All the local businesses join in,” he said.
She arched a brow, still looking over the rims of her glasses. “The gas station does? The carwash?”
“You bet. Dennis at the gas station gives away tickets for a free carwash with every fill-up. And Mike at the carwash gives away ten dollars worth of gas with every wash and wax.” He took another sip of coffee and rocked back on his heels. “So how about it?”
“I sell books and I don’t do it from a vendor’s cart.”
“You sell coffee, too.” He gestured to the small coffee bar surrounded by cozy overstuffed chairs.
“Oh, sure, big contribution—mocha lattes.”
“On a cold afternoon, sure. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Who are you, the mayor?” she asked, shaking her head and smiling.
“Hmm.” He pretended to give that some thought. “Mayor McKay. Kinda like the sound of that.”
“Uh-huh. Why don’t you go to work, make more money?” She took the coffee cup from him midsip and set it behind the counter.
He blinked. “You show all your customers that charm?”
“I save it for the really big spenders.”
Tyler’s lips twitched. He loved her sense of humor. “You’ll go under in a month with that attitude.”
She scoffed. “I’ve been here over a year, McKay, and survived just fine.”
“Ah, but is surviving ever really enough?” he asked.
She gave him a look that said he’d just stepped into too-personal ground. “You don’t have to hang around, McKay. You’ve done your civic duty.”
“Hey, is it me you don’t like or the McKay name?”
The McKays. Wealthy, privileged. And he stood here thinking she was a struggling businesswoman. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she knew what life was like with unlimited funds. What it was like to be the talk of not only the town, but on two continents. Giovanni Wines. Suspected Mafia ties of money laundering, her sibling’s picture in the paper with some questionable businessmen. Then there was the sublime thrill of seeing her own face on the cover of a tabloid—and her career as a clothing designer ruined. All because reporter Dan Jacobs had said he loved her when he really only wanted to use her to get an “inside” story on her family. The worst part was that she’d loved him, and he’d used it to betray her.
She stared at the floor, her chest suddenly tight as a drum, as she pushed at the hurt still wedged in her heart. She had closed herself off because people she’d loved had lied. People hurt you, and didn’t care how much if they got what they wanted. People like Dan Jacobs.
Books, on the other hand, never wounded you so hard that you didn’t think you could ever get back up.
Books took you away…
“Miss Douglas?”
She looked up, forcing a smile.
Tyler frowned, wondering where she’d gone just then. “You okay?”
Her expression changed from brooding to falsely cheerful, and all it did was heighten his awareness of her. Which was bordering on overload. She had a regal quality about her, not arrogant, but dignified and sophisticated. And even the librarian clothes and glasses didn’t hide it from him.
“At the risk of sounding redundant, I’m fine.”
Tyler didn’t get the cold shoulder from women often, and he admitted it rattled him. It was suddenly a challenge to get a real smile out of her.
When he continued to stare, she said, “Shouldn’t you be calling a wrecker? Calling your office or your girlfriend?”
No, he thought, no girlfriend, or at least no one steady. Right now, he was having fun doing the love-’em-and-leave-’em-graciously game. Because not so long ago, he’d come damn close to saying “I do” to the wrong woman. A woman who’d wanted the McKay money, but not the man.
It had been two years and though it didn’t hurt anymore, the memory of how blind he’d been still stung. And the sudden flash reminded him that he would never know if a woman wanted him or a key to his family’s fortune.
“No girlfriend to call, thanks for asking. And I called the wrecker when I was talking to the deputy.” He tipped his head a bit and leaned on the counter, closing the space between them. “You’re real hot to get me out of here, aren’t you. Why is that?”
Lane kept right where she was, refusing to back off. It wasn’t a smart move. He smelled wonderful. Warm and spicy. And the brown leather jacket and tan shirt