Free What the Librarian Did by Karina Bliss Page A

a damn about his fame or his opinion and Devin wanted her.
    In a corner of the restaurant, a guitarist propped himself on a bar stool and started strumming on a Lucida. The playing was average but his voice was true enough for the flamenco ballads.
    Kev thought Sinatra would be nice and requested “Blue Moon,” then sang along in a surprisingly good tenor. “Played the captain in the local production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s H.M.S. Pinafore last year,” he confided to Devin. “Bloody great night this, mate. All it needs is dancing.”
    On the quiet, Devin handed over some bills to the management and a few now-empty tables were cleared away. Delighted, Kev and Beryl did an anniversary waltz, moving lightly around the floor. One number led to another.Touched by the elderly couple’s obvious nostalgia, other diners joined them.
    The effects of champagne still sparkled in Rachel’s eyes. Devin held out a hand. “Shall we?”
    “I haven’t danced for years…you okay with a shuffle?”
    She did better than that. As long as Devin distracted her with conversation, her body moved with his in perfect rhythm. She only stumbled when she concentrated on the steps. Which was unfortunate, because Devin didn’t want to talk—he wanted to savor the softness of Ms. Rachel Robinson.
    So he encouraged her to expand on her theory of why musicians were so often good at math. “They’re both about playing with nonverbal patterns so there’s a lot of commonality there.”
    As she warmed to her subject Devin found he could get away with an “Mmm” and a “Really?” Gradually he drew her closer, until her body was right where he wanted it.
    “Mmm.”
     
    T HERE WAS SOMETHING in that last “Mmm” that jolted Rachel into awareness that she was dirty dancing with Devin Freedman.
    One of his muscular thighs cleaved snugly between hers, his chest was a wall of hot muscle against her breasts and his “Mmm” still vibrated on the top of her head, where he’d been resting his chin.
    And the hand supposed to be around her waist was caressing the upper curve of her bottom. About to protest, she became conscious that both her hands were in exactly the same position on his anatomy. She jerked back. “Excuse me a minute.”
    In the bathroom she splashed her face with cold waterand sprinkled a few drops down her neckline, appalled and ashamed. Obviously, three sips of five-hundred-dollar champagne was an aphrodisiac. Why hadn’t there been a warning on the bottle?
    “Remember you’re here to assess his character,” she admonished her guilty reflection.
    Rachel put her hair up in the tight ponytail Devin hated. She’d outgrown her partiality for bad boys after the last one got her pregnant.
    Back in the main restaurant, the music had stopped and a small group—which included Kev and Beryl, diners and kitchen staff—milled around Devin, who stood with his arms folded, scowling. The dragon on his forearm was a guardian across his chest.
    Kev caught sight of Rachel. “Talk him into it, love…all we want is that song the cows like.”
    One glance at Devin, and Rachel knew not to try. “We don’t have that kind of relationship,” she said quietly, hoping to remind people of their own tenuous connection to him.
    “We weren’t trying to be pushy or anything, mate,” Kev assured Devin, who raised a skeptical eyebrow.
    “Of course you weren’t, Kev,” Rachel answered. She took Devin’s arm, unconsciously patting the dragon. His hand closed firmly over hers. “I imagine if Devin picks up a guitar in public the media will start hounding him.”
    “I’m not going to give up my privacy.” Under her hand, the muscle relaxed. “But I could have explained it better.” His thumb began a gentle circuit of her knuckles. “I’m sorry for being so defensive.”
    Everyone apologized then, with back slaps and handshakes all around. Devin signed autographs, a camera was produced and he stood patiently while everyone had theirphoto