SINCE LAST NIGHT, THE world’s missing bee population somersaulted in my gut. I had been waiting for this day most of my life, and now that it was finally here, it didn’t seem like it was really happening. My body felt separated from my mind somehow, as if I were living inside a happy dream.

By the time I arrived at the Library of Congress, the pinks and oranges stitched into the sky by the rising sun had faded into a clear blue. Only a few cars specked the otherwise empty parking lot by the rear staff entrance.

While I waited for someone to let me inside the locked library, I sat on the steps and checked my phone. A message from Kay read:

How’s Riley? I’m hoping to live vicariously through you, hint, hint. Good luck today, sugar plum!

Not much to tell in the Riley department. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since Saturday when I’d arrived. His political consulting duties must really be crazy if they dragged him away for that long, but if I was being totally honest with myself, I didn’t mind.

I started to text Kay back and tell her about Sam, but I wasn’t sure what to say. That he’d hung out with me all weekend, mostly shirtless? That he’d made breakfast for me? That I’d fantasized about him with Slave last night?

While my explosive orgasm had pulsed through my body in blissful waves, something had crashed across the hall. Maybe Sam hadn’t been downstairs reading, and that possibility had stormed hot, naughty dreams through my head the rest of the night. Could he have heard me?

The way he sometimes looked at me, steady and intense and with open admiration, like when he stood in my doorway last night while I sorted my books... Well, no one had ever looked at me that way before. Not with a need so penetrating, the force of it squeezed my thighs together with an equivalent yearning. And that grin that lit up his entire face capitalized the P in Pantydropper.

He wanted me, and I wanted him right back, but I couldn’t get myself mixed up in that kind of distraction. My internship letter had stated that there would be an opportunity for the best interns to be offered actual paid positions at the end of the six weeks. A paid position at the Library of Congress. Hell, I’d pay them if it meant I could be employed there.

When Dad had learned about this possibility, he’d looked at me for a split second—the first time in what felt like years—and said, “Don’t blow it.” Thanks, Dad, for believing in me with such enthusiasm. But those words had struck a chord. Since graduating high school a whole year early and with top honors hadn’t made him forget the past or made him proud, maybe this could.

Besides, my past experiments with men left me feeling more alone than when I was actually alone. So no, I refused to wilt underneath Sam’s beautiful blue eyes or drool over his immaculately carved chest even if he served a platter of chocolate chunk cookies for breakfast. I wasn’t about to throw my career chances away for a fling with Riley’s bad boy younger brother.

Lifelong dream came first. Redeeming myself in the eyes of my parents came second. Libido came third or fourth, depending on my battery supply, and a complicated relationship was so far down my list, I couldn’t even see it.

A beat-up Cadillac pulled into the parking lot and into a spot near the back. Another car followed.

My palms grew too slick to hold my phone, so I dropped it into my purse without replying to Kay and stood.

A curvy young redhead climbed out of the Cadillac and stepped carefully through the parking lot in sensible flats. She smoothed her navy skirt, her hair, the strap of her giant tie-dyed parachute of a purse. Another intern? She looked just as nervous as I felt.

I thrust a hand toward her in an attempt to be friendly as she neared the steps. “You must be intern. An intern. Me too. I’m Paige.” My face flushed, and the bees inside me took a dive toward my knees. Just call me Paige Awkward Sullivan.

But she took my hand anyway and shook it with a firm grip and a small smile. “Paige? Really?” she asked, glancing at the nametag pinned to my top.

“My parents were psychic,” I said with a shrug.

“Nicole.” She dropped her hand, and we both wiped our sweaty palms on our skirts. “Is your last name Frostbourne? Do you have knives hidden up the inside of your legs?”

I laughed, which helped calm my nerves a little, and her face blossomed into a stunning grin. She was referring to a paranormal historical series of books by Lisa Montgomery, and that was when I decided we would be BFF’s—bookish friends forever. Yes, not only am I awkward when I’m nervous, but apparently I also think like I’m twelve.

“I can’t find my nametag,” Nicole said and shoved a hand into her enormous purse.

I widened my stance in case she fell inside and needed to be rescued, but sooner than I could’ve imagined finding anything in there, she pulled out her nametag.

“I thought Jimmy ate it,” she said, flicking her green gaze up to mine while she attached her name to her top.

“Jimmy Hoffa?”

She snorted out a nervous laugh and pointed to her bag. “Jimmy is my pet turtle.”

“Oh.” Of course. She’d brought a turtle with her?

A young woman with exotically angled eyes and a nose ring sauntered up to us. Her glossy black hair had been shaved on one side so it flopped over the other and down one shoulder. Colorful tattoos unfurled over her golden skin and scrolled up both arms beneath the sleeves of her white T-shirt and plaid vest. She had taken the stereotypical librarian image and stomped on it with enormous combat boots that went up to her knees.

Sometimes I wished I had the courage to look like that. Other times, I preferred the subtly unconventional librarian. After all, how many others were wearing a black silk thong that read Shh! across the crotch? Probably more than I cared to know about, but still.

The woman let her gaze roam over the building like a loving caress. “I’m totally nerding out right now.”

Nicole and I grinned. Every time I met someone who shared my passion, it kind of amazed me. Before I quit high school and earned my GED, I was the freak outcast who read at the lunch table, and it wasn’t until graduate school that I finally met other like-minded people, including Kay. If only I’d met her years earlier, then maybe high school wouldn’t have been such a struggle. Doubtful, but maybe.

A number of other people, mostly females, joined us on the steps, including a boy who looked like he’d barely passed puberty.

“Ladies,” the boy said and looked at each of us, his gaze lingering several beats past uncomfortable on me.

Had I unknowingly slapped a sticky note on my forehead with the words I’ll be your cougar—Rawwwr! on my forehead that only males with fewer birthdays than me could see?

His crisp-ironed suit and Hollywood smile made me think he was destined for political office rather than librarian.

“I’m Doug,” he said with a wink.

His name even sounded political.

“Paige,” I said, just to be polite.

“Are we in the right place?” a young woman clutching a tissue asked timidly, but at the same time, the wooden door behind us burst open.

A woman of about forty stood just inside dressed in a smart pant suit and high heels. At least three-inch high heels. The twinkle in her dark eyes gave no indication that she suffered in painful silence.

“You are in the right place, and on behalf of the entire staff, I’d like to welcome our Junior Fellows summer interns into the Jefferson Building of the Library of Congress,” she said.

She held the door while we filed inside with murmured thank-yous, and I breathed in one hundred seventeen years of history. The entire library housed approximately thirty-six million books. While I didn’t see any of them yet, that familiar, slightly musty paper and ink smell seeped from the grand arches and the rich, symbolic artwork decorating the walls. I held it in my lungs, treasured it, willed it to settle into my pores forever. Walking inside was similar to the first time I’d ever been here when I was seven—with complete awe and a sense of home.

Next to me in the entryway, Nicole appeared just as transfixed. A wide, dreamy grin stretched her mouth as she searched the painted ceiling of the cavernous room with teary eyes. I’d bet everything inside her parachute bag, including Jimmy the turtle, that this was her life-long ambition, too.

“I’m Janice Brown, Head of the Rare Book and Special Collections Division,” the high-heeled wonder said. “Before we get to know each other and take a tour, we’ll need to check you and your bags through security.” She gestured to a tall, uniformed man standing in front of a metal detector behind her. “This is William, a U.S. Capitol policeman, and he’ll be checking you in and out. Ready, William?”

William gave a sharp nod, his gaze skittering to Nicole before he began barking directions. “Bags on the conveyor belt. Step through the metal detector one at a time, please.”

Nicole clutched her bag while a shade of red that matched her hair bloomed all over her face.

“You okay?” I asked. “Do you know him or something?”

“Not...” She blinked. “No.”

“He was just checking you out.”

Somehow her face burned even brighter. “I doubt it.”

“Next, please,” William hollered.

While Nicole stood paralyzed, I cut around her to show her how easy moving through the line could be. Maybe she had never gone through security before. Or maybe she was a library assassin whose secret objective was to eliminate those who read some rare book. Because that would make an excellent Lisa Montgomery novel, and I wanted to read it, not live it.

The closer I moved to William on the other side of the metal detector, the more I could relate to Nicole’s nervousness. William wore a perpetual frown, and his intense hazel stare under his dark Roman-style haircut made it even more pronounced. Luckily, I didn’t trip the metal detector.

William once again settled his gaze on Nicole, who hadn’t budged from her spot back by the conveyor belt. I gave her a subtle jerk of my head to come hither.

Everyone at our little intern party was staring at her, the poor girl, and the color of her cheeks showed just how little she cared to be the center of attention. Was she afraid of William and his big man hands for some reason? Was she caught off guard that she’d captured his attention? Because if he wasn’t checking her out before, he definitely was now.

His dark lashes fanned lower while he took all of her in, and I couldn’t blame him one bit. People would kill for her porcelain-smooth skin, as evidenced by murderer and all around creepy dude, Ed Gein, and in Skin Deep by Lisa Montgomery. Not that I was thinking of skinning her or anything, but wow. She was gorgeous.

“We coming, dear?” Janice said, her perfectly plucked eyebrows slanting in a furrow.

With jerky movements as though she was attached to puppet strings, Nicole finally set her parachute on the conveyor belt. She eyed it while she stepped forward through the metal detector, then leaped for it once she was through the other side, all while ignoring everything in William’s general direction.

“Well,” Janice said with a clap of her hands, “that took a while, didn’t it? Hopefully I’ll have time to conclude your tour by lunch.”

Nicole wilted into her flats at my side, everything to the tips of her ears flaming, but I held her by the elbow and dragged her up a few steps.

“Don’t worry about it,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. “Everyone will forget all about it.”

“Yeah, until I have to do it again when I leave,” she whispered, and the panic in those words tugged at my heart.

I glanced back at William, who stared after us while scratching his head. Nicole was leaving a path of confusion behind her, yet I didn’t want to pry or make her feel worse than she already did.

“Just focus on this.” I swept a hand to my left at the Great Hall with its marble flooring, grand staircases, and high ceiling, but we could only enjoy it for a second before we were ushered into the cloakroom.

“You will each be given a locker to store your belongings and a key.” Janice pulled a key from her jacket pocket and dangled it in the air from a red plastic tag. “Try not to lose it,” she said in a withering tone. “Abrams, Jewel?”

The girl with the tissue clutched tight in her hand stepped forward. New keys appeared from Janice’s jacket to dangle in the air while she recited the names of the interns without the use of a clipboard or any kind of notes. She was a walking computer on stilts.

“Lao, Charlotte?”

“That’s me,” the girl with the ass-kicking boots said.

The woman glanced down at the girl’s ensemble and dropped the key in her hand with a look of absolute disdain. Charlotte curled her fingers around the key and smiled.

“Martinson, Doug?” the woman said.

“Here.” The boy caught his key and twirled it around his index finger like a toy.

“Sullivan, Paige?”

“Yep.” My key read LOC Intern 157. All odd numbers and all unlucky according to Chinese numerology. Awesome.

“West, Nicole.”

Nicole gripped her key tag so tight, I imagined the ink had soaked into her skin, permanently marking her as LOC Intern 158. If it did, she probably wouldn’t want to trade. Besides, something told me she’d had enough bad luck in her past. But other numbers marked her porcelain skin, too, along her wrist and thumb and across her palm, faded like she had tried to scrub them off. I swept my gaze over the rows of lockers so I wouldn’t stare.

After the rest of the interns retrieved their keys, Janice posted her hands on her hips and smiled. “Over one hundred applicants applied to be interns for the Junior Fellows program this year, but the sixteen of you stood out among the best and brightest. You can be proud of your accomplishments thus far. Remember we will have a rare books librarian position open at the end of your internship.”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I’d worked so hard to be standing here, and if I earned the chance to get paid to stand here... Well, I wouldn’t just be standing here. Excitement at the possibility spread to Nicole, who kicked her leg back and quirked her head to the side in a kind of spastic happy dance. We were such kindred spirits since our dreams revolved around books.

Not Doug, though. His dreams revolved around his hand with that damned key. But that thought made me hate myself for immediately disqualifying him from the running for LOC librarian. Because she had said a position, not positions like the acceptance letter had me believe. An unfortunate typo, I guessed, which made me think I was interning for the library version of the Hunger Games. Still, the whole idea that this was a competition deflated my excitement some.

“Without further ado, it’s time for a special tour where you’ll meet some of the staff and go where the general public isn’t allowed to go,” Janice said with an air of mystery. “Now let’s not dilly-dally in here too long. Meet me outside the cloakroom once you’ve stored your things.”

Anxious to get started, I scanned the row of lockers for 157 and shot toward it. Two twists of the key and a pair of empty hands later, I stood outside with Janice, who was so impressed with my speed, she examined her cuticles with a frown.

Nicole was the last one out, and I hung back by her to make sure she kept up. The rest of the morning was taken up with the tour and meeting several more staff members whose names I would never remember. Much of the librarians’ tour information I already knew or had seen before like the world’s smallest book, which was the size of a period, and the Gutenberg Bible, but I’d never gone through the passageways to the other two buildings. When I’d visited as a child, Mom preferred walking through the front doors instead of sneaking inside for whatever reason. I’d never walked through the stacks, either, because they were closed to the public. The rows of shelving seemed like they went on for miles.

“I feel like someone’s going to kick me out,” Charlotte whispered.

I closed my eyes as I inhaled deeply. “Me, too.”

Nicole lovingly rubbed a finger down a book’s spine. “I hope not.”

“It’s almost lunch time,” Janice finally announced. “There’s the Madison Cafeteria on the sixth floor of the Madison Building, if you’re so inclined. Let’s meet back in the Rare Books room in the Jefferson Building at one o’clock sharp.” She turned on her heel with Doug following after her like a hyper puppy.

Nicole’s shoulders slumped. “I forgot about lunch.”

“I sort of did, too.” I hadn’t even thought about it in the first place. By the time I made it to the cloakroom for my purse, then back to the Madison Cafeteria, lunch would likely be half over.

“Here, take this,” Charlotte said, reaching into her cleavage. She handed us a twenty. “It will save you a trip to the cloakroom so you can beat the lunchtime rush. You can pay me back later. I’ll go get my lunch from my locker, and maybe we can all eat outside together.”

“Are your boobs an ATM machine?” I asked with a smile as I took the money.

The diamond stud in her nose appeared dull next to the sparkle in her dark eyes. She leaned in close, a conspiratorial grin tilting her mouth. “Well, I did put some money into them.”

Nicole gasped.

“A wannabe librarian with a boob job,” I whispered in mock outrage. “How un-stereotypical of you!”

Charlotte laughed and skipped down the stairs. “Let’s meet by the naked fountain out front.”

While waiting in the lunch line on the sixth floor, a smile drifted across my mouth when I spied a bacon bookmark in a display next to the cash register. I could get it for Sam so he didn’t have to use a phone bill, but would that send a wrong message? No, because it was just a bookmark. Nothing else. He didn’t seem to have a real bookmark, so I would be doing him and the book a favor as the good, innocent librarian I so badly wanted to be. I slapped one on the checkout counter with every intent to pay Charlotte back.

When Nicole and I were armed with lunch, we had to check ourselves through security again to leave the front of the building, but Nicole had no issues about it that time. Whether it was because she didn’t have her bag or because we went out a door not guarded by William, I had no idea.

The air sizzled with damp heat, but in the shade of the fountains in front of the Jefferson building, it wasn’t too bad. I sat on the corner ledge to the side of the statues so as not to look them in the eye, as taught by Dr. Who. Nicole and Charlotte sat on either side of me, chomping and chatting away.

“Thanks again for lunch, Charlotte. I’ll pay you back,” Nicole said.

Charlotte finished chewing her apple and nodded. “For the fiftieth time, you’re welcome.”

“So,” I said and blotted my hands on a napkin. “What made both of you apply for an internship here?”

“Feeling out the competition, are we?” Charlotte said, sliding me a grin.

“No.” Not really. Maybe. “I’m just genuinely interested.”

“Honestly?” Charlotte said while she picked at the apple’s stem. “I’ve had a change of heart since I applied for this internship. I’m going to open my own bookstore and call it Midnight Library. I’ll serve coffee and have quirky furniture, and it will be open all night.”

Nicole froze her drink’s progress to her mouth. “For vampires.”

Charlotte ticked her gaze to Nicole, and for one awful second I thought she might laugh at her for saying such a thing. Fictional worlds and reality collided in my head all the time, too, but I seldom admitted that out loud. But to my delight, Charlotte grinned.

“Damn right, for vampires. Humans, werewolves, and unicorns, too,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing cooler than a library. The smell, the feel, the wealth of knowledge in these books, the way people automatically drop their voices. It’s almost like church. Like a holy place.”

Nicole nodded. “Books don’t judge, either.”

“No, they don’t,” I agreed. “I would totally go to Midnight Library. It sounds like fun.”

“It will be if I can figure how to get capital first. It turns out banks don’t just give you money based on a good idea,” Charlotte said. “So, how about you, Paige? Why are you here?”

“When I was seven, my parents brought me, and right when I walked in the door, I announced I wanted to live here. I pretty much lived at the public library anyway, but this...” I waved my hand around. “This is a library.”

“It is kind of spectacular, isn’t it?” Nicole stared up at the naked statue of Neptune, whose arms seemed just as broad and muscular as William’s. The rosy tint to her cheeks made me wonder if she was thinking the same thing.

“And this fountain,” Charlotte said. “These statues are so damn sexy, and it fits the place, you know? Librarians are some of the naughtiest individuals I know.”

My gaze strayed to the naked sea nymph, her head thrown back with a look of complete ecstasy while she rode her horse. Was that how I would look if I rode Sam? With my thighs squeezed tight around his hips while I fucked him? A zip of hot, electrical energy stormed to my center at the thought of him underneath me, gliding his hands all over my body, and pumping deep inside me.

I shook my head hard enough to rattle that thought back into the dark corners of my mind where it belonged. There would be no naked riding. Ever.

“It’s so freaking hot out here,” Charlotte said and jerked her chin toward the water. “Anyone want to get wet before we head back inside?”

I swallowed. Pretty sure I was already soaked.

Nicole shook her head while she folded her sandwich paper up into a perfect little square on her lap.

“No, thanks,” I said and stood.

“Paige?”

I turned and squinted up at the tall figure who didn’t quite block out the noontime sun. The figure shifted to the right, and the familiar face ran a chill through my blood. Gray eyes gave the appearance of kindness when he smiled. Silver dusted his dark sideburns, though the rest of him hadn’t changed from seven years ago. Old war wounds marked his strong chin and slashed downward underneath the top few undone buttons of his white dress shirt. It wasn’t the scars that made me shudder in disgust.

“Rick,” I said, and my voice sounded disconnected, as if this was someone else’s bad dream and I was just an observer.

“That’s Senator Rick to you,” he said and flashed a grin that helped him win the office. And my trust when I was fifteen. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Haven’t I?” Lunch began a steady climb up my throat, and I forced a swallow.

I knew seeing him again was a definite possibility when I came to D.C. for the internship, but I refused to ignore my dream just because of a possibility. I knew Rick’s true colors he kept hidden behind his political persona, and those same shades were a vivid reminder of my past. He had spun the color wheel too fast, when I was too young, and the resulting streaks couldn’t be erased.

Like Her Number. Mom’s email subject line invaded my head while I stared up at Rick, and I wondered if Her looked like him.

Charlotte rested a protective hand on my shoulder. The ends of her dark hair tickled my arm as she aimed her narrowed gaze at Rick. “Everything okay, Paige?”

Nicole stood on my other side, a V etched between her brows, while her green eyes read my face.

“Sure, everything’s okay,” Rick said. “We’re old friends.”

“Is your name Paige?” Charlotte snapped.

She didn’t seem to notice or care how high up the political food chain he went, and I silently thanked her for having my back. Not too many people did.

I attempted to empty my expression because I didn’t want to have to explain myself to my new friends. They would likely never talk to me again if they knew the truth.

“Yeah,” I said with an innocent shrug. “Everything’s fine.”

They nodded and slowly drifted off, though I could feel their doubt rippling up my spine to merge with my own. It was no coincidence that Rick showed up when he knew I would be here, too. Did he come to check up on me, to see that our little secret was still lodged at the back of my throat behind the lump of revulsion?

“You got the fruit basket I sent okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I choked out.

“It took hours trying to remember what you did and didn’t like. Seven years is a long time, but you’re still a fan of peaches, right?”

I nodded even though the thought of peaches rolled my stomach.

“They had an enormous list of fruits I’ve never even heard of, but I read through each one just in case it rang any bells up here.” He tapped a finger to his graying temple with the same hand as his wedding ring.

I had to wonder what he was getting at with all this. Did he want me to thank him for all his trouble? Assure him I never told anyone? Promise we could pick things up where we left off? Because I refused to do any of that, and he didn’t deserve it anyway.

The sun pounded down on top of me, rushing sweat down my sides, and melted some of the memories I’d fought so hard to keep stashed away. My summer crush on him, sneaking into my parents’ spare bedroom where he slept, finding out later he was married, and then...

“I need to get back inside,” I said in a rush and turned away from him and all that he represented.

“It’s convenient that you’re staying with the Cleary brothers.”

Something dark and dangerous in his tone stopped me cold. “Convenient?”

He nodded and wielded his TV-ready smile at a couple passing by. When they were out of earshot, his gray gaze narrowed in on me, and all traces of faux-friendliness vanished with his next words. “Max Cleary doesn’t belong in the White House.”

I could only stare at him because I had no clue what to say to that. This wasn’t politics as usual if he was telling me this.

“And you’re going to help make sure he doesn’t get there,” he said, and it sounded like a warning.

I was shaking my head before he’d finished. “I’m not—”

“Anything. Anything you can find that can be used against Max, I want it.”

He was deranged. That was the only explanation. A long time ago, Dad told me Max, who was several years Rick’s senior, had taken Rick under his wing and shown him how to be a successful senator. Now he wanted to politically stab Max in the back? And me to find the knife?

“No,” I said with hearty conviction, and I wished I’d had the nerve to tell him that a long time ago before we both got carried away.

“I hear Janice could be hiring the best and brightest intern for a permanent position at the library.” His thin lips pushed together in a frown which mismatched the smug crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “It would be a shame if you didn’t get it.”

The air in my lungs heaved out as his meaning slammed into me. Was this some kind of veiled threat?

“I’ll keep in touch.” He turned, dismissing me, and strolled across the sidewalk toward the Capitol Building.

Back inside the LOC, I pulled the swinging door closed behind me, blocking him out, blocking everything out, while I willed the tears that threatened to spill to stay put. Once the door closed, I could continue living my dream, in peace, without Rick’s obscure intimidation.

Click.

If only it were that simple.