A Man to Believe In (3 page)

“Okay, the excitement is over,” Marsha said. “Let’s go back to the party.” She shot a wink at Cori, then ushered the others from the room, leaving her alone with Georgia and the pirate.

Anticipating his needs, Cori gathered the supplies around her and handed him items before he had a chance to ask for them. He cleaned the wound carefully, all the while telling Georgia in a deep, reassuring voice that the cut looked worse than it was, that everything would be okay. He swabbed the injury with an antiseptic, then wrapped the finger, taking obvious care to be gentle. By the time he had the wound bandaged, Georgia had calmed considerably.

“All set.” The pirate predicted a speedy and cheerful recovery and helped the woman to her feet. Georgia laughed at his brisk, doctorlike manner. “You go relax now. We’ll get things cleaned up here,” he told her, and shooed her through the door.

Cori retrieved a whisk broom and dustpan from the pantry, where she knew Marsha kept them, while the pirate disposed of the soiled paper towels and wiped the table. Within minutes they had the kitchen back to normal, the broken glass swept up and tossed in the wastebasket. Cori went to the sink to wash her hands.

A moment later the pirate joined her, thrusting his hands next to hers under the hot water. He stood so close their shoulders touched. The spicy fragrance of his aftershave mingled with the scent of soap suds.

“As I said before, we make a great team,” he remarked, catching the bar of soap when it slipped through her fingers. “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” They
had
worked well together, but Cori was reluctant to admit it because she was just as disturbed by this second—and altogether
different—example of their teamwork. His gentle, caring manner with Georgia confused her. This man seemed so different from the one she’d teamed up with earlier in the evening. He seemed so … nice. For some reason she was far more comfortable thinking of him as the arrogant pirate.

“We’d better get back to the party,” she said. Wasting no time, she dried her hands quickly, then started for the door.

“What’s your hurry? Why don’t we sit down a minute. We deserve a rest.”

Cori turned back to face him. “I should … uh …” She glanced at the door, then back at the pirate. He stood leaning against the kitchen counter, one hand braced on the edge of the sink, the other still holding the dishtowel. His long legs crossed at the ankles, he looked completely relaxed. She, on the other hand, felt as nervous as a teenager at her first boy-girl party. “Marsha might need me to … help.”

He tossed the towel on the kitchen counter and turned back to her. “Was it something I said?”

Cori frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“You seem as though you can’t get away from me fast enough. Look, if this is about the charade—”

“No. It isn’t. It’s just that … um … Marsha is pregnant, and she gets tired easily. I’m her best friend. I should get out there in case she needs me to do something, organize another game, you know.”

Marsha was the healthiest, most energetic pregnant woman Cori had ever seen, but the pirate wouldn’t know that.

With a thoughtful expression on his face he crossed his arms in front of him. “Then I guess you’d better get back to the party. We’ll talk later.”

“Right. Later.” She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he’d seen right through her flimsy excuse, but she didn’t care. She left the kitchen without looking back and, instead of rejoining the party as she’d said she was going to do, she ducked into the master bedroom. She cleared a spot on the bed and sat down, surrounded by coats, purses, and comfortingly dark silence.

She spent a few moments trying to decide what to do next. If she went back out to the party, he was bound to repeat his suggestion that they go out for coffee. So why didn’t she politely refuse his invitation and be done with it?

Because he obviously wasn’t the type of man who took no for an answer, that’s why.

Even so, she couldn’t hide in the bedroom for the rest of the night. And that was exactly what she was doing—hiding.

From the sexiest man she had ever met!

Okay, she admitted it. She found him attractive, but there was no law that said she had to act on that attraction. Still, she wasn’t absolutely sure she could resist the pirate.

When he’d helped Georgia, she’d seen a side of him that surprised—no, fascinated—her. How could a woman resist a gentle, caring sort of man? Why would she want to?

Because during their charade together, she’d seen another side of him as well, the take-charge, slick-operator
side she
should
have been able to reject easily—and hadn’t. Not by a long shot.

No doubt about it, she’d be smart to quietly slip out the back door without seeing him again. Obviously, she couldn’t trust her own willpower when she was around him. With an unladylike snort she realized she certainly couldn’t trust him to behave like a gentleman either.

Not him.

Over the years she’d read hundreds of romance novels, and there was one point they were always clear about—pirates
took
what they wanted.

And this pirate had made his wants remarkably clear.

The following morning Cori gripped her keys in one hand and crossed the first two fingers of her other as she cautiously approached her decade-old Volkswagen.

“Please start.”

She repeated her recently adopted mantra several more times, then promised her car great rewards if it cooperated and slid the key into the ignition. After several anxious seconds she heard the reassuring low rumble as the engine sputtered to life. Cori smiled and patted the dashboard gingerly.

“Thanks,” she said, and threw the car into first gear. “I owe you a tune-up.”

Soon, she added, reminding herself that if she didn’t make time in the near future for the long-overdue maintenance, the darned thing could poop out on her almost anywhere. As if to emphasize that
very point, the engine stalled three times on her way to work, forcing her to spend precious seconds getting it started again each time. When she finally got to the library, she checked the schedule for her assignment that day, then marched straight to the information desk and sat down.

Her car problems forgotten for the moment, she pulled out a copy of
Publishers Weekly
and turned to the book reviews, determined to get her book-selection list completed before lunch. In a race against the clock she gave the project her undivided attention.

Choosing books for the library to purchase had always been one of her favorite tasks. But with the budget getting tighter every year, she couldn’t afford to buy all she wanted, a situation she’d become too familiar with recently when she’d compiled the inventory list for the bookstore she planned to open in a matter of weeks.

Her small business loan, combined with the money she’d been saving for years, was not enough to purchase every book she thought she should stock. She’d have a good-size selection to offer her customers, but she’d feel better when she could expand.

She was halfway through a review of
How to Ask for a Raise When You Know You Don’t Deserve It
when a shadow fell over her desk, making it difficult to read the words she’d been concentrating on.

“Hello, Cori.”

Somehow she kept her head from snapping up at the sound of the voice—a deep, rich, intensely masculine voice she recognized immediately.

Stalling for time, she set her pencil down and
closed the magazine. She folded her hands on the desk in front of her, mostly because they’d started to tremble, then raised her head slowly and looked straight into the brilliant blue eyes of the pirate.

No sword. No earring. No eye patch.

Cori couldn’t help wondering how the man managed to look like such a menace without the accessories he’d worn last night. She decided that some men had a talent for looking intimidating. Without a doubt this man was one of those.

“I didn’t expect to see you today.” Honestly, if she’d known he would show up at the library, she would have found a way to bury herself in the basement, cataloging books, out of sight, instead of planting herself at one of the most visible spots in the library. With exaggerated calm she flipped her magazine back open and told herself to concentrate on the review of the latest Danielle Steel novel. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d take a hint and just go away.

“I thought I would surprise you,” she heard him say a second later, which told her she was out of her mind if she believed she could discourage him so easily. At the party she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with him, but here he was, giving it one more try. She had to hand it to him—he was persistent. But she already knew that, didn’t she? Taking her time, she finally looked up at him.

“I hate surprises.”

Her blunt declaration received a slow, mouthwatering grin in return. Cori’s heart skipped a beat, possibly two.

He perched himself on the comer of her desk, looking as though he planned to stay awhile. “Why’d you give me the slip last night?” he asked.

Because she didn’t want to tell him the truth, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say, she ignored his question and tried to turn the page of her magazine. The corner was pinned under his leg. She nudged at his thigh with her pencil and yanked the page free, then stared blankly at the article in front of her.

He leaned closer. “Did you hear me?”

Cori looked up and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to you right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

“No. I mean I can’t talk to you. At all. I have to work.” She rapped the eraser end of her pencil on the magazine, as if banging on it would prove her point.

In response, he tapped the Information sign on her desk with his index finger. “Pretend you’re helping me. I came here to get some information.”

Again she raised her head slowly, patiently. Her breath caught in her throat just as it had when she’d looked up to find him standing over her a minute earlier.

Last night she’d credited a large part of the man’s appeal to his flashy costume. The entire thing had been intended to attract attention, and it had. Today’s wardrobe was another matter entirely.

In spite of her intention to ignore him, she let her eyes slowly travel over him, taking an extra-long moment to observe the snug fit of his well-worn jeans before moving on to his plaid flannel shirt. It
was open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled back to expose an eye-catching length of muscular forearms. At first she thought the broad plaid pattern exaggerated the wide breadth of his shoulders, then decided what he had on wouldn’t make a bit of difference. He was a big guy. Period. And as much as she hated to admit it, clothes didn’t make this man—
he
made the clothes.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, then decided she’d pretend anything if it would get him out of there sooner.

“Okay, what can I do for you?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me why you ran away from me last night.”

His voice was soft, smooth, just the way she remembered it. The cocky attitude was the same too.

“I didn’t run away from you.” He tipped his head to the side and arched one brow. “As you can see, I had to work today,” she continued, losing confidence in her explanation as his patient expression dissolved into a smirk. “It was getting late, and I was tired.” She shrugged her shoulders casually. “So I went home.” Folding her hands in front of her on the desk, she waited for him to respond.

But he didn’t. After several long moments his unwavering gaze got to her. She let out a sigh, wishing he’d stand up or look away or do something besides stare at her with the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. Finally, she decided the only thing left to do was to try the innocent-until-proven-guilty approach.

“Besides”—she sat up as straight as possible and
raised her chin high—“what reason could I possibly have for running away from you?”

“Fear.”

With effort Cori managed to keep a straight face, in spite of the fact that his one-word assessment hit home. Something about the man—about her reaction to him—scared her. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Deciding she should have stuck to her original tactic of ignoring him, she stacked the papers on her desk neatly to one side and stood up. Then she reached into a drawer, drew out a plaque, and set it directly in front of him before turning to leave.

“Running again?”

Clenching her teeth together, she spun around, then pointed to the sign.

Slowly, he slid his gaze down her arm and along her finger to the tip of her nail, “
INFORMATION DESK CLOSED
.
FOR ASSISTANCE
,
PLEASE GO TO THE CIRCULATION DESK
.” He gave her a wide grin that deepened the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “Do I get an A in reading, teach?” he asked.

She smiled, trying her darnedest to match the smug look on his face. “Only if you follow the directions too.”

Without saying another word she turned away again and headed for the reference wing.

“Cori, wait.”

Just ignore him. Eventually, he’ll have to give up and leave, she told herself as she stepped up her pace. She felt bad about being downright rude, but if that was what it took for him to understand that she
didn’t want to have anything more to do with him, she could live with it. Besides, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Manners himself.

Halfway to her destination, she felt his large hand clamp around her wrist, bringing her to a halt.

She glared down at his fingers, and after long moments he finally let go of her.

“Now what do you want?” she asked.

“Shhh.” He raised one long finger and pressed it against her lips. “Keep your voice down. You’re in a library.” Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a white envelope and handed it to her.

Cori opened it and drew out two tickets for the sold-out performance of
Sleeping Beauty
at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. “Where did you get these?”

“Marsha gave them to me last night,” he replied casually. “To us, actually. We had the fastest time at charades. We won first prize.”