Chapter Two
Caleb’s spine stiffened, as though he were a dog or a wolf getting ready to fight.
He ignored the sensation and gave the customer another glance.
“That guy? You’re not serious. He’s wearing glasses.”
Jane glared at him. “What are you, twelve? Grown-ups don’t criticize people for wearing glasses.” She folded her arms. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I wear glasses.”
Caleb held up his hands. “Hey, whatever. I’m just saying most women don’t think men in glasses are sexy.”
“There’s so much wrong with that sentence I don’t even know where to start. For one thing, I’m not most women. For another, smart is the new sexy. Or hadn’t you heard?”
He grinned at her. “If you say so. But at least I don’t—”
She smacked him again. “Shh! He’s coming.”
Back in high school and college, Caleb was the guy girls shushed each other over when he came near. He’d tried not to get a swelled head over it, but the fact was, he’d never had a problem getting women to notice him.
Of course, he wasn’t interested in Jane romantically. The resentment he felt toward Mr. Ideal Man was just on general principle. Because if any woman found this guy more desirable than, say, him, the world no longer made sense.
The man had short dark hair, sideburns, and a goatee. A freaking goatee. He was tall, and while he had a decent build, it was the kind of build you got in a gym as opposed to actually playing a sport or working outdoors. Between the professorial-looking tweed jacket and the horn-rims, Caleb guessed he spent most of his time reading.
Just like Jane.
Horn-Rims came to a stop across from her and smiled, and Jane smiled back.
And with that one smile, it felt like a heavy stone settled in the pit of his stomach.
Caleb had been judging—and dismissing—this dude as an elitist hipster nerd without any evidence other than his physical appearance and the fact that he was in a bookstore. Then he’d gone a step further in his head, deciding he couldn’t be Jane’s ideal man because . . . opposites should attract? Or something.
But now that he saw the two of them smiling at each other, he imagined what Sam would say if she were here.
Oh my God, they look so cute together!
And as much as he hated to admit it, it was true.
Between Jane’s glasses and the guy’s horn-rims, the two of them were blinking owlishly at each other like lovebirds in a bookworm’s paradise.
It wasn’t just the glasses. There was something alike in the shy smiles they gave each other. Then the guy asked a question about the book he was holding, and Jane answered, and there was something alike in the way they spoke, too. They sounded eager, interested, enthusiastic.
The way he sounded talking about camping equipment with other hikers, or horses with his brother.
So maybe opposites didn’t attract. Maybe the more obvious conclusion was true: people were attracted to each other when they had something in common.
Attracted.
The word was like another stone in his gut.
Because that was what he was seeing. Attraction.
There was a pink glow in Jane’s cheeks that hadn’t been there before. She rested her arms on the counter as she leaned toward the man, as though wanting to get closer. They were talking about the cover illustration, and when they reached for the book at the same time, their hands touched.
The blush in Jane’s cheeks deepened as she jerked her hand back, ducking her head for a moment before looking up again.
When Caleb realized that his own hands had fisted and his jaw had hardened into granite, he forced himself to relax.
He focused on the book they were so interested in and spoke abruptly.
“A Little Princess. That’s a kids’ book, right? Do you have kids? Are you married?”
Jane whipped her head around to glare at him before turning back to her customer.
“Please forgive my friend for that personal question. He was raised in a barn. Literally. Also, if you’ll give me a moment to ring him up, he was just leaving. Then I can show you the rare books section I was talking about. I have a first edition of The Secret Garden I think you’ll love.”
He was being dismissed, which pissed him off.
“I’m a little more than a friend,” Caleb said as he pulled out his wallet.
“That’s true,” Jane agreed as she ran his card and slid his books into a bag. “He’s my sister’s business partner, which makes him my honorary big brother. I’ve often wondered if an actual big brother would be half as annoying.”
That pissed him off, too, in spite of the fact that he’d called himself Jane’s honorary big brother a hundred times.
“Yeah, well—”
She slid the bag across the counter toward him. “Thank you, sir, and do please come again.”
Damn it, he hadn’t even gotten to the other reason he’d stopped by. He was supposed to make dinner plans for the three of them.
“Sam and I—”
“Want to get together now that you’re back in the city. Sure. I’ll call Sam tonight to figure out where and when, okay?”
Jane and Sam would figure out dinner, he’d paid for his books, and Jane had made it crystal clear it was time for him to go.
He glanced over at Mr. Ideal Man, who was looking at Jane. He was probably ready for Caleb to leave, too.
He slid the bag back toward Jane. “These are for you, remember? To persuade you to go hiking for Sam’s birthday.”
She stuck the books under the counter. “The answer is no way, but we can talk about that later. Bye, Caleb.”
He was running out of excuses to stay.
He nodded toward the hat he’d tossed onto the shelf behind her. “My hat, if you please.”
She grabbed it and handed it to him.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he put it on, but her attention wasn’t on him anymore. She was looking at Horn-Rims with an expression that made him want to hit something . . . or someone.
Caleb exited the store into the bright sunlight, tipping the brim of his Stetson down to shade his eyes. As he strolled down the sidewalk, he tried to recapture the feeling of happiness and anticipation he’d felt just an hour before. He’d thought at the time that the feeling came from the beautiful October day, his enjoyment of the city he hadn’t seen in a month, and the prospect of seeing Jane and planning something fun for Sam’s birthday.
He was still in the city, the sun was still shining, and he hadn’t given up hope for a family hiking trip.
But his pleasure in those things was gone.
Jane was still mad at Caleb for his big-brother-ish intrusion, but as soon as he left, it occurred to her that his too-personal question did give her an opportunity for a (hopefully less awkward) follow-up.
“So,” she said, hoping she sounded casual as she led the handsome stranger toward the rare books she kept in a locked glass cabinet. “Since you’re interested in children’s books, I’m assuming you’re looking for a gift? We offer free wrapping if you are,” she added quickly, going for professional as well as casual.
“I need a present for my eight-year-old niece,” he said, which, along with the bare ring finger on his left hand, was music to her ears.
Take that, Caleb Bryce. He’s single.
“I loved The Secret Garden when I was eight,” she said, unlocking the glass doors of the rare books case and pausing to breathe in her favorite scent—the faint musty sweetness of leather bindings and old paper. “Then there’s Little Women, or The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I’ve also got a beautiful edition of Anne of Green Gables.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Anne of Green Gables? I used to read that one to my sister.”
She felt a rush of pleasure. “You did? That’s one of my all-time favorites.”
“It was my sister’s favorite, too. I practically had it memorized by the time she turned ten.”
He’d read to his sister when they were kids? That was adorable.
Now for the really important question.
“Did you like it?”
She almost held her breath waiting for the answer.
“Actually, I loved it. I never told Lisa that, of course.”
That was said with a self-deprecating grin that would have convinced Jane—as if she’d needed any convincing—that this man was meant for her.
As if to prove that the universe agreed with her, her employee Felicia came in to work an hour early, freeing Jane up to give Tall, Dark, and Handsome her undivided attention.
By the time he finally got around to buying something, they’d talked books and their favorite authors for more than an hour. They’d exchanged first names—his was Dan, which became Handsome Dan in her mind almost immediately—and Jane had managed to mention (casually, please God) that she was single.
The only negative was that Dan hadn’t found an opportunity to say he was single, too, even though she was almost positive he was. Also on the con side, he hadn’t given her a business card or his phone number or suggested they get together for coffee or lunch or dinner.
He paid for his illustrated copy of Alice in Wonderland in cash, which was a little disappointing. A credit card would have showed his last name. But then, as she was taking way too much time to wrap his niece’s gift and trying to think of a way to prolong their interaction, he said, “Is there any chance you might be working tomorrow afternoon?”
Stay calm. Don’t answer too fast, and don’t jump up and down.
She slipped the wrapped book into a bag and set it on the counter.
“Yes, I’m working until closing time tomorrow. Six o’clock.”
Warm and friendly but not overly enthusiastic. Good girl, Jane.
He took the bag and smiled at her. “I might drop by with my niece around four o’clock. I think she’d love this place, and then she can pick out a book of her own to go with the one I chose for her.”
“That would be great!” Too much. “I mean, I always love an excuse to talk about my favorite children’s books. Bring her by anytime.” Better.
He smiled at her again. “Until we meet again.”
That was nice. Sort of old-fashioned and formal.
“You bet.”
She winced. You bet? Was that the best she could come up with?
It was too late to think of something better, though. He was already gone, the door closing behind him.
Handsome Dan.
Jane finished the rest of the day in a glow, trying to tell herself he might not come back after all but not really believing it because he had to have felt the same connection she had. Didn’t he?
By the time she was back in Brooklyn, climbing the stairs to her third-floor apartment, she was feeling a lot less certain. After all, statistically speaking, it must be a hundred times easier to meet a single female bookworm in Manhattan than a single male bookworm. In other words, there were a lot more Plain Janes in the city than Handsome Dans.
Maybe he wasn’t single. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but he might be dating someone.
See “statistically speaking,” above.
By the time she was in bed with her current book—a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt—she’d gone from happy glow to Gloomy Gus. She was positive now that she would never see Handsome Dan again. And not only had she acted like a giddy schoolgirl around a total stranger, but she’d made a fool of herself in front of Caleb Bryce.
If only Caleb hadn’t been there, she could consign the incident to oblivion and never think of it again. But he’d be sure to ask her about the customer she’d called her “ideal man,” and the only thing she wanted to be able to tell him was that he’d asked her out on a date.
Sigh.
She set her book on the nightstand, turned off the light, and curled up on her side to go to sleep.
But sleep didn’t come. She replayed the events of the day, and when she was done, one question stood out.
Why had she gotten so excited about some random customer? Was she that hard up for a little romance in her life?
Her sister—who never had trouble getting a guy to ask her out—would say yes. And Caleb, who always told her she was too shy and cautious about relationships (and everything else), would say yes, too.
She shifted in bed, turning on her other side to face the window. It was open, and the crisp, fall-scented breeze teased through her bedroom, raising the fine hairs on her forearms and making her burrow a little deeper into the blankets.
The contrast of cool air and warm covers made her extra-aware of her body. How long had it been since she’d shared her bed with a man?
Too damn long, apparently.
Giving up on the idea of falling into a peaceful slumber, she sat up in bed and rested her chin on her knees, staring out at the full moon.
It really was a beautiful night. The wind picked up, tossing the tree branches outside her window, and the rustling leaves sounded like ocean waves.
Autumn always made her feel restless.
Maybe that’s all this was. A sort of seasonal discontent with her life, which was, no denying it, a little quiet lately. Maybe she’d gotten excited about Handsome Dan because he represented the possibility of something new, a kind of adventure. Caleb was always telling her she needed more adventure in her life.
Damn Caleb anyway. Why did he keep popping up in her thoughts?
Her thoughts were her own, and it bugged her that Caleb had the power to interrupt them. Her mind was the one place where she was all-powerful. She’d always reveled in her imagination, using it to conjure up dragons and unicorns and fantasy realms, plots of global conspiracy and assassination . . . and yes, the occasional dream man.
But it had been a while since she’d conjured up an imaginary lover to keep her company on a lonely night.
Maybe it was time to change that, at least.
She settled back down into her pillows, drawing the covers up to her chin and thinking of Handsome Dan. His dark hair and blue eyes, his charmingly bookish glasses, his cowboy hat . . .
Wait a minute. His cowboy hat? Where the heck had that come from?
She started over again. Handsome Dan was talking with her about Charles Dickens and Jules Verne, only this time he asked her out for a drink so they could continue their conversation.
What would they have? Red wine, local beer, artisanal cocktails?
Kentucky bourbon, pipsqueak. Neat. No chaser.
Grrrrr.
Okay, maybe she should cut right to the good stuff. Caleb wouldn’t show up during the hot part because he was a friend. An honorary brother. And rule number one about friends and honorary brothers was that you didn’t picture them naked.
Handsome Dan was here in her bedroom. He was taking off his clothes, his eyes on her the whole time, and—
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand, ruining the moment.
She jerked upright and grabbed it, glaring at the screen. Who would be calling this late?
Caleb. Of course.
The bastard had managed to interrupt the naked part of her fantasy, too.
She hit Accept.
“What.”
“That’s how you answer the phone?”
He sounded amused, which was irritating.
“Only when it’s you, and only when I’m in bed.”
“You’re in bed, huh? And you answered my call. I guess that means you’re alone. If not, Horn-Rims must be pissed right now.”
She gritted her teeth. Then she took a deep breath and counted to ten.
“Very funny. Why are you calling, Caleb?”
“You said you’d talk to Sam about dinner, but she says she didn’t hear from you.”
It was true; she’d forgotten to call Sam. But, still—
“That’s not a good enough reason to call this late. And you guys are in the city for a few weeks, right? Before your next trip? That’s plenty of time for the three of us to get together. What’s the rush?”
There was a short silence.
“No rush,” he said after a moment. “But when Sam mentioned you hadn’t called her, it occurred to me that you might have been, uh, distracted. By Horn-Rims.”
Caleb had already found an insulting nickname for him. Great.
“His name is Dan.”
Another short silence.
“So, you’re on a first-name basis? Fast work, pipsqueak. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“You’re impressed that I found out his name? A minute ago you wondered if he was in bed with me.”
“That was a joke. Truth is, I figured things with Horn-Rims would stay where your real-life opportunities always do.”
She was going to regret asking this question, but she could never leave well enough alone when it came to Caleb.
“And where’s that?”
“In your head.”
She was lying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. There was a water stain she kept meaning to paint over that looked sort of like a male profile, and it was easy enough to imagine it was Caleb’s.
She stuck her tongue out at it. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You never go after what you want. You think about things, but you don’t do them. You have this big imagination, but your reality is . . .”
He trailed off without finishing.
“What? My reality is what?”
Boring. He was going to say boring.
“Not everything it could be,” he said after a moment.
Okay, that was more diplomatic than she’d expected. But even so—
“You’re only saying that because I don’t climb mountains or BASE jump or go over waterfalls in a barrel.”
“I’ve never gone over a waterfall in a barrel.”
“But not everyone wants to do those things. I like my life, even if you think it’s boring.”
“I didn’t say your life was boring,” he said quickly, which probably meant that was exactly what he thought.
She didn’t agree, but she also knew she’d never convince him otherwise. Because what she found thrilling was exactly what he dismissed as unimportant.
Caleb Bryce was a doer. An adventurer. A man of action. To him, only what you could see and touch and taste was real. How could she ever explain to him that her thoughts and dreams were as real to her as the physical world? That her imagination was as precious to her as anything in his life was to him?
She couldn’t, of course.
“This conversation is pointless,” she said after a moment. “We’re too different. We’ll never agree on what makes an interesting life. Or anything else, probably. So I guess it’s a good thing you’re always jumping out of an airplane or scaling a mountaintop, and I don’t have to see you that much.”
Another silence. This one went on long enough that she checked her phone screen to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.
“Caleb? Are you there?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m here.”