I waited at the library door while in the distance, thunder rumbled. For the third time in as many minutes, my eyes dropped to my watch. 8h58. He should be there any minute now. I caught myself tapping my foot against the door frame nervously, and rolled my eyes. Why was I so nervous? I was meeting an author, for cripe’s sake, not the President of the United States.
Said author had been completely polite and friendly in the emails we’d exchanged over the last month, and was delighted to be invited to talk about his latest book with the library’s romance writers’ group. It wasn’t the first time I’d organized for such a conference.
It was the first time though that said author had published a comprehensive guide on safe BDSM and kink. Or that he was quite open in his bio about the fact he owned and managed a BDSM club in town. Or that he was himself a sexual dominant.
“Your imagination’s getting the best of you,” I grumbled out loud. “He’s a normal guy, not some exotic beast.”
Yes, I do talk to myself out loud when I’m nervous. So sue me.
The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped me out of my muttering, and I turned to face the newcomer. I felt myself starting to blush when I caught sight of the man standing about five feet away. Oh my… He was younger than I expected, probably only in his mid to late thirties. I’d also managed to convince myself he’d probably look completely ordinary and uninteresting in person. Boy, was I wrong. Although dressed casually in khaki slacks and a polo shirt, and wearing glasses, he held himself like a man confident in his position in the world. Brown hair that curled a bit at the tip and gray eyes framed by slight crows’ feet completed the portrait. His gaze was sharp and all too knowing as he watched me. Maybe I was just imagining it, though, knowing who he was.
I licked my lips and slapped on the best smile I could muster. “You must be Daniel Cavannagh?”
The man smiled and I stood transfixed. Get a grip, I mentally admonished myself, otherwise he’d start to think I was a creep. But that smile… that smile was something I would work very hard to see more, and often. It lit his whole face. He looked nice before, although not handsome in the way romance heroes were always described, but his smile put him in another category altogether. And that category was “knee-meltingly sexy”.
"Indeed,” he replied in a warm baritone. “You must be Kathy then. The librarian who contacted me.”
I coughed once to hide the fact I felt more flushed than I should, considering this was work hours for me. “That would be me. Come in, most of the group has arrived already so we’ll start as soon as you’re ready.”
He bent to pick up a small suitcase—copies of his book and his conference notes, I supposed—and followed me inside the library. My shoulderblades itched in awareness at his proximity, and I had to make a conscious effort not to look back at him. This was getting embarrassing. The guy was here for business, because I’d invited im as a guest author. He wasn’t there to get drooled on by a slightly awkward librarian with too much imagination. I was pretty certain he had his pick of potential lovers—submissives—already. Down, girl.
“Where are your bathrooms?” he asked, forcing me to stop thinking of my raging hormones.
I pointed to my left. “Just around the corner here. If you want, I can get your suitcase into the conference room while you go, and you can join us once you’re done. It’s just at the end of this corridor, the door on your right.”
He frowned slightly, making me wonder if he’d refuse to let go of his suitcase, but then nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
When I went to grab the handle, our fingers brushed, and once again I felt my cheeks flaming from just that slight contact. Urgh… Next thing I know I’d start stuttering like a thirteen year-old in front of her crush. I was thirty for heaven’s sake!
