Emma merely wanted to finish Sweeney Todd's adventure, nothing more. That had to be the only reason why she put the Duke of Ravenswood off. She drummed her fingers on the countertop as she relived her morning. By his purchase of not one, but eighteen, volumes, he had single-handedly not only helped her meet her sales goal for the month, but he also carved a healthy amount out of what was needed next month. It gave her some breathing room. Yes, she had found the reason for her uneven breathing. She wanted the other half of the purchase price, that was all. It could not be that she had fallen victim to his charms as had so many others. She cautioned herself even as she counted the hours until his return.

Even if he did have broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. And a full head of lovely dark brown hair. And those dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. Oh, my. Eyes that twinkled when he was amused. She found herself getting lost in those brown pools several times and had to adjust her gaze to break the spell of him. He could be a dangerous man if she didn't take care.

She flipped the door sign from 'open' to 'shut' at lunchtime and ran upstairs to the living quarters she shared with her mother. A light meal was waiting for her, so she grabbed the seventeenth installment and read through it quickly as she ate her lunch.

"You seem preoccupied, dear," her mother sat across the table and tapped her fingers on the page of the pamphlet Emma had been absorbed in.

"I'm sorry, Mother." She set the booklet aside and glanced up. "A gentleman came into the shop this morning wanting to purchase all eighteen pamphlets in this series. I had read through them, all except the last two, so I put him off by a day in order to finish the story."

Her mother harrumphed. "You turned your back on a big sale? What would your father have to say about that?"

Emma bristled. "I didn't turn my back on it. I collected half his money, told him to return on the morrow, and I'd give him the entire story. Father taught me well how to take care of business, and I haven't forgotten his teaching."

She finished her meal in silence. Her gaze might have been on her book, but her mind was full of a mesmerizing smile and twinkling brown eyes.

The eighteenth installment was a quick read following lunch, and she assembled all the pamphlets in order, wrapping them in a big pink bow. She'd have everything ready for the Duke tomorrow, so he wouldn't linger at the shop. When she handed over The String of Pearls, it would signify the end of their involvement. At least she hoped so. She couldn't let herself daydream about winning his heart. She was simple shop girl, and he was the Duke of Ravenswood. No real future could exist for them and this she knew. She would continue to wait for the man that God had chosen for her.

Emma aided a couple more visitors to the shop in the afternoon, then closed up for the night. It had been a good day for her bottom line. It had been a good day, also, for her heart. Because, even though the Duke's scandalous reputation should put her off, she was grateful to him for making her aware she could still entertain thoughts of love. She believed those feelings had been laid to rest when the mantle of responsibility fell onto her shoulders. No time was available for frivolous behavior these last few years. Now, she once again began to harbor emotions that warmed her heart, even if it was for someone who was out of her league.

* * *

Paul put off going to the bookstore the following day. He wanted to drag out the anticipation as long as possible. His body hummed like a string on a violin. Emma Carter was constantly in his thoughts; he couldn't focus on anything else. His mind kept searching, trying to figure out her appeal. She was attractive, yes, but so was every other woman he talked to, or had a relationship with. Her blue eyes sparkled with delight as he told her of his mother's reading habits. The fact that she knew immediately to what he referred spoke volumes about her intelligence. When was the last time he'd been in the company of a lovely woman with a brain? He couldn't remember. And the fact that he'd thrown money at her and walked out of the shop with nothing to show for it except a scrap of paper told him she had excellent business acumen. Always an asset. His mind spun with possibilities. Perhaps he could offer her a job as his bookkeeper? Once he picked up his books, he'd have no reason to see her again, unless he could manufacture one.

He rubbed his chin. "Paul, you're a fool," he muttered. "There are plenty of women to dally with. Leave this one alone. She's as pure as the driven snow, so unless you wish to marry, and marry someone with no social standing, you'd best not linger in the shop." He gazed at his reflection in the mirror and raised an eyebrow at himself. "For the love of God, man, take heed of your own warning. You had one pure woman in your life already, and you know how that played out. Leave her alone."

Still, he counted the hours until he could stroll into the shop as if it were no big event, and pick up his mother's gift.

Finally, at 10:45 am, he sauntered into the store. Not too early, yet not so late she'd rush him out to go eat her lunch. She was standing in the light from a side window, her expressive face a combination of shadow and light. His breath caught in his throat. His impression of her yesterday had been one of loveliness, but he realized today he'd not done her justice. Today, in the sun and shadow, she was breathtaking, mesmerizing. The light formed a halo around her dark curls. Her dress was a serviceable blue calico, but she didn't need a fine gown to accentuate her beauty. Her curves were highlighted by the sun, too, and the overall picture was stunning. He gulped several times, trying to find some moisture in his mouth. He didn't need to add muteness to his already poor reputation with her. She had recognized him the moment he'd walked through her door, and his behavior yesterday had been one of a bumbling schoolboy. He needed to entice her today with some of that charm he was so famous for.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to corral his thoughts. No, he didn't need to entice her. He needed to pay for his purchase and leave. Hopefully by 10:55 am.