Chapter 1
I remember it like it was yesterday. I walked excitedly into Mr. Cornwell’s office where the university was temporarily housing his private collection. I wanted to continue cataloging my finds and instead of seeing Mr. Cornwell’s short stature and weathered features, I saw a powerfully built man with his back turned to me wearing a trench coat, peering pensively at the Cornwell Rare Books Collection that lined the wall directly to my right.
Even though he was turned away from me I could tell that he was larger than most men that I had encountered anywhere. I was an avid traveler so had been most places in the world. I didn’t say this to be boastful. It was just a fact. My parents were anthropologists and hadn’t left my little brother or me to be raised by other family members or, as was popular in the neighborhoods I remembered as a child, nannies. Hence, my brother and I traveled with them across the world, learning different languages, immersing ourselves in diverse cultures.
My brother and I ultimately chose different paths. He was a shiftless, unemployed gambler constantly in trouble. I didn’t follow in our parents footsteps either; I became a librarian focused on preserving the rare collections and special discoveries of the local university where I was employed. This was also the reason I was currently in Mr. Cornwell’s office staring at a stranger. Mr. Cornwell, a good friend of the Chancellor, had made a generous gift to the university. The university gave me the exciting task of cataloging his sizeable donation.
I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me, sir, but I’m looking for Mr. Cornwell. Have you seen him?”
The man didn’t turn around; he continued staring at the hard covers. His long graceful fingers traced across their fragile spines reverently, almost as if caressing a lover. A shiver moved up my back and immediately I looked around to see if there were a draft in the room or if watching this man caress these books affected me in an intimate way.
He didn’t turn around to speak; he just continued his perusal of what I now considered my books. “Dad’s around somewhere. If you see him, tell him that his son is waiting for him. Would you?” I was surprised. This giant was Mr. Cornwell’s son?
“I’m Liza Matthews, the rare books cataloger from the university in charge of every aspect of the transfer of the material from your father’s possession to our----.”
“I know who you are; the attractive young librarian.” He said this part matter-of-factly and I was thankful that my olive complexion tanned well. With the summer heat, my skin was a light brown and so I was sure this man couldn’t see the blush that had crept up my cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“There was no reason to meet,” he said finally turning around to face me.
What first caught my attention were his eyes. They were the color of rich, dark molasses and then strangely enough my eyes fell to his lips. They were as full as my own and showed no hint of a smile. The guy might have been handsome, but he was clearly not the friendliest person, as he kept his expression aloof and impassive.
“Are you done looking at my mouth?” He said and his lips curled up in a sardonic smile. I decided right then that I would have rather he maintain his unfriendly expression than that mocking smile that made me immediately uncomfortable.
“Please tell your father that I stopped by,” I found his boldness obnoxious and I turned on my heel to leave, but the stranger stopped me.
“Forgive me. I was rude. Can we start again?” He walked towards me. Something about the way he move captured my attention. He was graceful in almost a predatory way. It seemed as if he were a predator stalking his prey as he came to stop only inches from me.
“I’m Maximus Cornwell. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. You have a reputation of being one of the best in your field.”
He didn’t extend his hand. He only looked down at me with a curious expression in his dark eyes. I nervously licked my lips, very much aware of the heat that seemed to emanate from Maximus’ body to overwhelm my own. His compliment flattered me. I was one of the best, but I was too modest to admit it aloud.
I raised my hand and extended it to him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Maximus,” and he surprised me by bringing my hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. He held my eyes as he did so; the aloof expression replaced by a hint of desire that triggered an instant physical response from me. I felt heat rush from the flesh that he kissed and race up my arm. Goosebumps appeared on my skin and he slowly brought my hand down but didn’t let it go.
I hesitated and then pulled away from him. I immediately missed his warmth and wondered if perhaps I had been in a sexual drought too long since I reacted rather embarrassingly to this stranger’s touch. I studied him again. He was so tall, I thought to myself for the second time and his shoulders were massive as well. Under the trench coat, he had on a three-piece suit, which apparently, was tailored to accommodate him since he was built like a professional athlete. I imagined he could walk out on a field any day and start playing football with no practice needed; yet, he had the grace and sophistication of a man born into money. That was no surprise given that his father was a very wealthy man, if not on the eccentric side. Very interesting rumors surrounded Mr. Cornwell, but surprisingly none had mentioned a son.
Maximus took that moment to shrug out of his trench coat and placed it over his father’s chair. He brought his hand up to push his jet-black locks away from his face and I noticed how long his hair was. It seemed to reach down to just above his shoulders.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me appraisingly. I wasn’t sure what he saw when he looked at me, but I know what I saw this morning when I looked in the mirror: A petite curvy, brunette, a little heavy-chested with no interest in fashion. I pretty much wore sheath dresses and kitten heels every day because it was easy and I didn’t have to think much. Pants were too much work. They had to be ironed or dry-cleaned and I never knew what top to wear with which pants. I simplified my life by just wearing dresses and low-heeled shoes. It worked for me. I always looked professional, and admittedly boring, since a black dress and black shoes were my standard go-tos.
So I stood there, fresh-faced, without make-up, and probably blushing as Maximus studied me.
“What?” I said raising my eyebrows; done feeling flustered by him.
He raised his brows too, “Is this the point where you become hostile?”
“Is this the point where you stop attempting to be a brooding, mysterious stranger?” I said back testily. He seemed surprised by my words and then he smiled. I wish he hadn’t done that. He was even sexier when he smiled. I admonished myself for thinking that and tried to find a decent excuse to use in order to escape his gaze.
“Well, it was nice meeting you Maximus. Tell your father---.”
“Tell me what dear?” came Mr. Cornwell’s voice from behind me and I turned towards the older gentleman dressed in a suit as well and smiled.
He was a sweet man and well read, of course. I enjoyed his company, as he understood me better than most.
“I was just about to leave.”
“I see you met my son,” Mr. Cornwell said moving over to his desk and shuffling around a few papers.
“Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting Maximus,” I said trying not to sound flippant, but I felt that I failed when Mr. Cornwell looked up at me with a tiny smile on his lips.
“Maximus, you weren’t bothering Ms. Matthews, were you?”
“Never, Dad. I was on my best behavior. Wasn’t I Liza?” I liked the way my name rolled off his lips. He made it sound almost exotic and it was then that I noticed his slight accent. I assumed he had been educated outside of the United States, but not in Europe. I would guess in Australia or somewhere else on that side of the world.
“I’m not sure what your best behavior looks like, Maximus, but I can guarantee that I didn’t see it displayed earlier.” I said feeling the urge to rib him.
Most people expected me to be shy and reserved, the stereotypical librarian, but I was anything but. Maximus’ presence made me tongue-tied, but I still had my share of caustic comments to throw at him.
“Well, I’ll be sure he makes up for his behavior at lunch. Would you care to join us?”
I opened my mouth to say no and then I saw Maximus’ expression. He seemed amused, as if he expected me to say no and almost as if he dared me not to, I heard myself saying yes instead.
“Great news,” Maximus said with a small smile, “I’m actually suddenly starving. Ravished.”
As he looked at me, I wondered if he were referring to a desire for food or something else completely.