I think I’ve been consistently blushing for nearly thirty-six hours straight now. It’s a Saturday morning, I’m just about the only person in the Harley Law & Finance Library, and I swear my cheeks are still bright red from the Thursday night baseball game.

I can’t believe I was sitting down and palling around with the two most notorious playboys in the nation. I might not follow news other than the economics and politics pages, but even I know that Callum and Troy Stephenson are Trouble with a capital T. They’re the poster boys for sleeping around, causing trouble and leaving any woman who comes in contact with them worse off.

And I thought they were hot.

I roll my eyes a little, even if it’s forced, my attention wavering from the book I’ve been trying to flip through on international matrimonial law precedence. I’ve been reading the same page about ten times over, maybe more. I’m not even sure at this point, but I do know that I’m not remembering any of it, and my thoughts keep wandering back to the twins.

How big they were… How nice it felt when they had their arms around me, or when our shoulders brushed together when we were sitting, watching the game… How it felt great to actually be wanted again for a change!

I mean, I know it’s ludicrous. The moment I got home, I sat down with some wine and my tablet and Googled those two. They’re absolutely notorious and their conquests are the favorite food of gossip bloggers everywhere. They tend to find a woman they like and then… well, it’s never been substantiated, but… the general opinion seems to be that they like sharing.

Everything, and everyone.

I gulp dryly at the thought of it. I’d like to say that I didn’t go through a very satisfying half hour in the company of my vibrator after mulling it over a bit Thursday night, but then that would make me a liar.

Which, despite my profession, I’ve vowed not to become.

Still, even revisiting the thought of spending more time with them is strictly out of the question. It just won’t happen, end of story. I’ve had enough of men who can’t be true to a woman and I won’t be dragged down that rabbit hole of despair and heartache again. No way.

With my newfound resolve, I dive back into my research, furrowing my brow and running along the line I’m reading with the tip of my pencil without letting it touch the paper. I don’t even look up when a stack of books is plopped down on the table across from me and then the chair screeches a little as it’s dragged along the floor.

Just my luck. The whole library is empty and this person had to come sit down at my table.

I remind myself that I have no ownership of said workspace and that it’s a small library with not that many secluded corners to even start with, but that tiny human spark of annoyance still plums in me. I read a few more lines of the text and scribble down notes on the chapter.

When I finally look up, my breath hitches a little.

What is it about ending up around incredibly attractive men these past two days? Has the universe set out to mock me?

I think it has.

The guy sitting across and to the left of me is tall, broad-shouldered, with a lush hair of dark brown hair, and the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. My gaze flicks down to the literature he’s browsing through and my heart leaps a little – he practically has the same stack as I do. All books on divorce law and international precedence.

He notices me staring and I busy myself by looking down and pretending to read, though I can’t help but glance up again. He’s still looking at me and if I wasn’t blushing before, I definitely am now. I squirm in my seat a little, immediately considering the option of moving tables because he’s incredibly distracting.

I can feel his eyes on me as he reaches for his thermos mug and takes a sip of what smells like strong black coffee. He looks exactly like the type of guy who’d drink black coffee, probably some sort of a special brew that he’s spent ages looking for…

I look at my own cup of now-cold machine coffee and I feel even more unworthy than I did before.

It didn’t used to be like this. Being around attractive men didn’t make me immediately question myself as a woman and a person. I guess some wounds go a bit too deep to come out of it unscathed. I wish I weren’t rattled so easily…

“Hey,” he says out of the blue, and his voice is like velvet against my skin.

It’s deep and broody and so masculine. I look up and smile tentatively, stuck between a desire to run – that one’s familiar – and to not go anywhere at all.

“Hey,” I respond.

“Would you like some?” he asks, holding up the thermos.

It takes me a second to catch onto what he’s offering – for a moment there my brain wishes he’s talking about something completely different – and then another to process the thought. By the time I’m done trying to formulate an answer, he’s already pouring me a cup using the screw-off lid of the thermos and pushing it towards me.

I nod like I’m mute and accept it. The smell alone hits me like a fresh wind, immediately rousing me after the hours of study I’ve already managed to cram into the morning. Even if most of it has been wasted time by any reasonable standards.

“So, you’re going to have to excuse my lack of game here, but come here often?” he asks, sipping from his own cup.

I chuckle, and then take the first sip. It’s like liquid gold, smooth and perfect and strong. I don’t usually like my coffee black but this time, I’m more than willing to give it a go.

“I do, actually,” I say, motioning at the books. “It feels like no matter how much I read, I’m never prepared as much as I’d like to be.”

I don’t add the part where I basically got to first name basis with the previous librarian back when Jacob had just left me. I basically lived here, finding the volumes of legal tomes as better company than my wailing despair. You’re supposed to be quiet in a library so I couldn’t cry here, which was basically all I really wanted to do when I was alone.

It’s sickeningly weak and I hate thinking back on it. Still, the library has been my sanctuary.

“What about you?” I ask, preferring to eat up the lull in the conversation.

I keep my voice low though. The new librarian is a real stickler for the hush-rule.

“Can’t say that I do,” he says, considering his own pile of books. “I’m just doing some mandatory reading. It isn’t usually my cup of… coffee.”

We both grin at that.

“So I assume you’re not a lawyer?”

“I think the odds are better for me to become a dolphin overnight than to become a lawyer. No offense,” he adds quickly, probably noticing the surprise that flitted across my expression.

“Bad experiences?” I ask over the rim of my cup.

“You could say that,” he agrees.

I don’t push him on why he’s reading about matrimonial law then. And he’s holding his cup in a way that I can’t see his ring finger, but the interaction goes a long way towards clearing my head a little. If he isn’t a lawyer then there are not a whole lot of reasons for him to be reading about this…

I can’t help myself. I have to ask.

“If you’re not a lawyer, then you’re picking some very questionable easy Saturday reading books,” I say, pointing at the one he has open.

It’s a 2,000-page volume of previous trials across all fifty states. Not exactly something you’d pick up to browse through without reason.

“Let’s just say that I’ve learned to do my homework a bit,” he says. “I’m doing it… for a friend. Let’s leave it at that.”

I nod in understanding and for a few minutes, we both return to our reading. He’s still a major distraction though, because over the scent of strong coffee, I can also smell him. And he smells deliciously masculine… sort of like the Stephenson twins did. He has something earthy about him, like he has his two feet firmly to the ground and nothing rattles him. In that sense, he could be the polar opposite of me.

“Okay, I give up,” he says, slamming the book shut suddenly.

The librarian, a crotchety woman by the name of Jean who looks like she’s been on jury duty one too many times, shushes him from across the library. I don’t even see where she is, but I can hear the slithering ‘shh!’.

“What do you mean?” I ask, clamping a hand over my mouth as another hush follows, this time directed at me.

He grins and I giggle into my palm.

“I mean, I think I’m not cracked up for this. I’ll admit, I mostly grabbed this stack randomly and I have no idea where all of these go. What do you say, want to show me where I have to put these so I don’t incur the wrath of the librarian?” he asks, dropping his voice and waggling his brows at the last bit, like he’s announcing a grave danger that’s about to enter the scene.

I smile. I wouldn’t have guessed him to have a sense of humor behind that dark and dangerous appearance of his. Not that I mind.

“If you promise to give me another shot of that coffee, sure,” I barter.

You always have to get something out of a deal.

“Sure thing,” he says, scooping up the books in one smooth motion and standing up.

My heart skips a beat as I track his body as he stands. He’s wearing black slacks and a simple black button-up, but the way it hugs his body is… well, it sure is. He’s even taller than I thought and the way his wide chest tapers into a tucked waist and hips makes me clench my thighs a little.

It’s a good thing he isn’t a lawyer because damn, he’d be really distracting in court!

I gulp down the last of the coffee and with one fleeting thought at how in the world I keep steering right into trouble even when I see it coming, I track after him. I might be staring a little too hard at his ass.

I don’t even try to stop myself, and that’s probably a horrible idea.