He wandered back.

Two hours later, as I was going through a carefully packed crate of first editions—including the Poe books Sean had mentioned—I sensed him coming in. I wasn’t startled this time, and the book I held remained cradled carefully in my hands.

The white gloves I’d donned to keep the oils in my skin from adding any more damage to the fragile tomes suddenly felt damp as my palms began to sweat. I put the book on the table and checked it off on a list that had been provided by Seamus before he left.

Looking over at Sean, I watched as he came in and dropped down into a chair, his hair damp and tumbling over his forehead. He’d changed clothes at some point, wearing a half-buttoned white work shirt and a pair of jeans that I suspected cost about as much as I would have made in a week at my last job.

His feet were bare. I didn’t know what it was about that simple fact that caught my attention, but I had to keep from staring at his feet, naked against the deep burgundy carpet as I passed by him to add two Poe titles to the glass-fronted case. I was going to have to rearrange things at some point, but until I had a better idea of how I wanted everything, I’d have to make use of the available shelf space just so I could clear out all of the boxes and crates that had been stacked in here.

“I see you found my Poe books.”

His voice, low and velvet-smooth, stroked across my senses. The temper that usually snapped in his voice was missing, and when I glanced at him, I decided his gaze was entirely too unsettling. It only added to the warmth I felt from just listening to his voice, and the combination worked together, forging a heat inside me that was more intense than I could have expected.

Clearing my throat, I put the two books on the shelf as I said, “I didn’t know they were yours.”

“Technically, they aren’t. They’re just the only books in here that ever really held my attention.”

I turned to go back to the crate, and as I passed by Sean, he reached out, lightly circling my wrist with his fingers. “What’s with the prissy little gloves?”

“They’re not prissy.” I wrinkled my nose at him and tugged on my wrist. He didn’t let go, and I tugged harder.

He still didn’t let go. Instead, he came to his feet, responding to my next tug by moving in, acting like I’d pulled him closer. “Why are you wearing them?”

“Because I’m being cautious.” I twisted my wrist this time and dislodged his grip, then placed my hand on his chest, pushing him back a few steps. He went easily enough, but his gaze dipped speculatively to my white-gloved hand again. Sighing, I relented. “I don’t want the oil or sweat in my hands to transfer onto the books while I move them around. If I’m actually looking through the books, I won’t wear the gloves, even though people should wash their hands to remove those oils. Right now, I’m moving a lot of things around, and I’m just trying to be careful.”

He reached up and tugged on the edge of one glove. “What’s the big deal with oil?”

“Because the pages are old and brittle. Actually, until wood pulp started to be used for paper, the pages were sturdier, but as reading became more popular and books more accessible, it was determined that using wood pulp was more efficient. But the oil in our hands was believed to be detrimental, and it can be, but that oil can be washed off. So, I don’t use gloves when I’m actually examining antique books since gloves make it harder to feel the pages, making it easier to rip them. But I’m not examining them. I’m moving them around, and a lot of them. I’m just being cautious.”

And I was rambling, so I snapped my mouth shut.

But Sean didn’t look bored. “Are you always cautious?”

I ignored the question and pulled my hand away. Looking down at the glove, I scowled when I saw the tips were slightly smudged with dirt. “And I’m going to have to change them now.”

“Dad isn’t going to get bent out of shape if you don’t wear white gloves,” he said. “We never do.”

I pursed my lips, uncertain how to address that.

And it would have been a wasted effort because, even as I tried to figure it out, he cupped my chin and tilted my head up and back.

A second later, his mouth was on mine.

I froze.

Wow.

Oh.

Wow.

My blood, already heated, began to simmer, then boil until it was like lava in my veins. The hand on my chin slid backward, fingers spearing into my hair and twisting.

Pleasure and want spread through me, and I curled my hands into fists, my nails biting into my skin through the protection of the thin white gloves.

Wow.

Oh. Wow.

Sean stepped closer, a low rumbling groan escaping him.

The sound of that hit me low and hard, the sucker-punch of desire catching me completely off guard.

Stop. It was either the surprise or some latent sense of self-preservation, but whatever it was, it whispered again, Stop.

I reached up and pressed my hands to his chest, urging him back. “Stop it, Sean.”

“Don’t wanna,” he said, fingers sliding to my chin once more and angling my face up to meet his. “You’re sweet. Let me kiss you again.”

“No.” I broke away from him, shaking my head. “This isn’t happening.”

“Why not?” He pressed his thumb to my lower lip.

A shiver of awareness raced through me. Why? Why did I have to feel like this with him?

He saw it too. His eyes darkened until they were the color of the far eastern sky right before the sun set, and his pupils spiked until just a thin rim of that intense, brilliant blue showed. “Why not?” he asked again. “You can’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“No. I can’t.” I caught his wrist and tugged his hand away yet again. “But there are lots of things I’m interested in. Eating entire tubes of raw cookie dough, entire gallons of ice cream, an entire New York pepperoni pizza by myself. But just because I’m interested in doing something doesn’t mean it’s good for me…or that I will.”

“C’mon…” His lids drooped, and he stared at me from under his lashes. “It’s not like you have to worry about excess calories with me. Your figure is perfect. And even if you were worried—and you’ve got nothing to worry about—what I’ve got in mind is all sorts of calorie-burning. I’ll have you hot and sweaty in time. Cardiac exercise is good for you. That other stuff isn’t.”

“I can think of all sorts of ways you wouldn’t be good for me, either, Sean.”

His lashes flickered, and his mouth tightened as he absorbed the words. “Let me guess…you went and looked me up after the other night, didn’t you? Or are you just taking stabs in the dark?”

“I’m…not. No.” Annoyed now, and aroused, I crossed my arms over my middle and glared at him. “This just isn’t a good idea. For one, I work for your family, okay?”

“You don’t work for me.”

“Sean, enough.”

He opened his mouth, then finally snapped it shut, cutting around me.

At the door, he spun around and glared at me. “Fine. Be an uptight bitch. See if I give a flying fuck. I just wanted to have some fun.” He raked me up and down with a disparaging look. “It looks like you forgot how to do that, if you ever knew how. Guess that’s what happens when you spend your life wrapped up in books.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

My face burning hot, I drew in a couple of deep breaths, then let them out.

I waited a few more seconds, then eased out of the room. I caught sight of him just as he turned the corner and hurried down to the end of the hall, then waited again until he was almost out of sight before following.

Ten minutes later, I found myself hidden behind a heavy potted plant that resembled a small palm tree—it might have been a small palm tree. I bit my lip as I watched Sean. He stood at the edge of a big, lighted pool, the waters a rich blue-green that made me think of the pictures I’d seen of Hawaii. With angry motions, he jerked his clothes off, and the need he’d lit inside me fanned back into full, burning life as he stripped naked.

I caught one look at the taut muscles of his back, the tight curve of his ass, and long, powerful legs before he dove in.

He cut through the water with smooth, strong strokes. When he reached the end, he did one of those neat little underwater flips that made me wonder if he’d ever competed, then started back in my direction. Catching my breath, I went still.

I didn’t want him seeing me. I wasn’t trying to spy on him, but he’d been pissed, and I didn’t want him doing something…stupid.

Briar seemed convinced he might do just that, and after seeing the self-loathing in his eyes, and the anger he was trying so hard to hide, I had to wonder if maybe she wasn’t right.

After twenty laps, he slowed to a more casual pace, then three laps later, he finally flipped onto his back and just floated.

He did that for a long, long time, and I stood there, feeling stupid as I watched from behind the plant, but afraid to move for fear he’d see me.

Finally, he dipped under the water, and I made a break for it.

Once I was out the door, I took off at a light jog.

I still needed to finish up my tasks for the day. The library job might just be a cover for me to be here for Sean, but there was no reason not to do well with it.

And maybe if I was lucky, I could work out the frustration he’d managed to wake within me.

But I wasn’t betting on that.