Curvy Amelia Perkins is a spinster. As a librarian, she is determined to drag this town out of its illiterate rating, no matter the reader's preferences. So when sweet elderly Maude asked for something with a little steam in it, Amy didn't hesitate...
The fury that had driven him to go from the Springs Retirement Village to the local library fizzled the moment he slammed the door. His mind reeled, and a fine sweat had formed on his upper lip.
What the fuck had just happened?
Librarians shouldn't look like, not in his world. Her demure blouse, buttoned to her throat, molded to her breasts, and cinched in at her waist. Her calve-length skirt hugged her wide hips and thick thighs. He wasn't into plump women but fuck, he would do her, on the check-in counter, over her returns trolley, against a bookshelf. Dark auburn hair curled against her alabaster skin and with those bold ruby lips?
Her fragrance still lingered, something elusive, with hints of tropical islands and heated sand. Tom adjusted his erection in his slacks as he stared at the book on his passenger seat. He'd gone there to have Gram's choice of material censored. He hadn't expected to have his attempts thwarted, his perceptions challenged.
He was Tom Bradshaw, the top attorney at Gibson, Smythe and Bradshaw. No one gainsaid him or challenged him without having their ducks in a row. Yet this stunning woman had him on the back foot from the moment she'd fallen at his feet. She listened to opera, preferred not to swear, dressed like a 1950's pinup girl, and had the sensuality of his last ten bimbos combined.
She'd been right about his choice of casual partners, a string of blonde women that seemed to pale against her vibrancy. He'd like nothing more than her lips wrapped around his cock.
Fuck.
Tom snatched the book, his hand trembling. Switching on the cabin's light, he flicked to the opening paragraph, expecting some bullshit romanticized approach to sex or something too gritty for his grandmother.
Two chapters later, he grunted and snapped the book closed, tossing it onto the seat again. Dammit, he'd enjoyed the introduction of the strong female heroine, her thoughts, and reactions.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he started the engine but didn't pull out of the parking lot. Something compelled him to ask Amelia Perkins to dinner. He clenched his jaw. Blondes kept his basic urges satiated since he didn't have time to date.
In his rearview mirror, the library's door opened and she stepped out. Bathed in the outside light, her hair burned and her skin glowed. She sashayed down the sidewalk in those sexy shoes, her hips swaying. She looked lost in thought, and he memorized her face before darkness consumed her.
She was alone on a dark street. He scowled, not liking her disregard for personal safety. Tom hesitated, leap out to walk her home, or drive behind her like a stalker?
He slammed his palms on the steering wheel, switched off the engine and climbed out.
"Ms. Perkins?"
She stilled, spinning on a heel to tilt her head, a welcoming smile on those beguiling lips. When she saw him, it faltered and she squared her shoulders. Said action thrust her breasts out. Her hard nipples tenting her blouse skittered his heart rate and dried his mouth.
He sighed, snapped the car door shut, and jogged to her. "Let me see you home."
"That's sweet of you to offer, Maude's grandson, but this is a small town and I am perfectly safe. Good night." Her dark eyes sucked him in and he stared into her upturned gaze. He envisioned gripping her chin and descending his lips at a snail's pace as he admired her smooth complexion, the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks, and the sweet temptation of her lips.
"It's Tom Bradshaw." Was that his voice, all hoarse and gravel-lined?
She nodded and turned. He threw out his hand to capture her wrist. Her soft skin was so enticing and her warmth called to him.
He shifted closer. "Please, if Gram found out I didn't escort you...she can still box my ears."
Amelia Perkins laughed, sealing her fate with that throaty sound, the way it wrapped around his chest, his core. "I won't tell if you don't. It will be our secret." Her bright smile in the dim streetlight shot lightning to his groin, like spasms or shards of sharp pleasure. "Good night, Tom Bradshaw."
She curled her wrist out of his hand and walked away, not once looking back.
He didn't know how long he stared after her, rocking on his toes as if his body needed him to follow her, to not lose her.
Cursing, he strode back to his car, sliding into the driver's leather seat. He hit speed dial on his dashboard.
"Cal?" He cleared his throat and tried again now that he had Callum Gibson on the line. "I need a few days." Tom paused. What was he doing? He never took a vacation.
"Is everything all right?" Cal's concern echoed his own. This was out of character for Tom but fuck it. He needed to pursue this, even if it ended after one night. Well, one long night of mindless passion.
His balls spasmed and he sighed. "Yes, Gram is well, I—."
"Take as long as you need. You have months of unclaimed vacation days." Cal's voice muffled as if he held his phone to his ear between shoulder and chin. "She better be worth it, Tom."
Cal and he had formed a strong friendship during law school. That bond had only strengthened with time. "She bowled me over, doesn't cower when I glare at her, and just walked away from me as if I mean nothing to her."
"Whoa, challenge accepted." Cal laughed. "I don't need the details, not with Chrissy eavesdropping." Denials in the backdrop confirmed that his five-month pregnant wife was listening in. "I rest my case."
"Thanks, Cal. Kisses for my favorite lady." The one woman who might have stolen his heart now belonged to his best friend and partner.
"Sure, she'll have kisses...mine." Cal's words were teasing but his tone was far from it.
Time to change the subject since he suspected Cal had known of Tom's earlier feelings for his wife. "I'll call in a few days. If all goes well, you'll see me sooner."
"Confidence isn't always attractive. Maybe try something else this time." Cal's advice might be correct in this instance, but Tom didn't want to discuss Amelia Perkins with him.
"When has my confidence failed me?" It had with Chrissy. He had pursued her first but she'd taken one look at Cal and now they were so happy it was nauseating.
Cal sighed. "Chrissy wants to know one thing about this mystery woman."
"She doesn't like to swear." Tom smiled. Physics 530? Was that in the Dewey system?
"So, out of your league then?" Cal yelped, whispered something to Chrissy, and with a hurried goodbye, hung up.
Out of his league? Maybe Amelia was, but that wouldn't stop him from trying, not with the way his body throbbed. Fuck, he had no clothes, and had made no reservations.
He'd drive the ninety minutes to his city apartment, pack and book a room at the local bed and breakfast, then return in the morning. It would give him plenty of time to rethink this madness, after all, he never exerted this much effort on any woman.
Would Amelia Perkins be worth it?
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