The Librarian Principle (6 page)

She swatted his hand away. “Blake! There are students present.”

“And? I’m checking for a temperature, not trying to feel up your forehead.”

“Shh!” Liese hissed and shot him an irritated scowl.

Blake raised his hands in what would have been an act of contrition had he not looked annoyingly amused. “Don’t get all testy with me. I’m just a concerned friend, who apparently has a better sense of humor than you.”

Liese settled back in her chair, assuming a relaxed position she didn’t feel. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be witchy. It’s been a rough day, and before you ask, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

That wasn’t entirely true. She did want to talk to someone, desperately. But no matter how good a friend he’d become, Liese couldn’t risk confiding in Blake. He was too close to her situation.

“That’s cool.” He rearranged her pencils, waiting patiently for her to spill whatever was eating her.

“I’m just preoccupied,” she offered, “and maybe feeling a little under the weather.” This wasn’t a total lie. The nauseous feeling, however, had nothing to do with any contagious kind of sickness.

“Your eyes
are
kind of glassy. Maybe you should take off early,” Blake suggested, inspecting her closely.

“I have a meeting with Mr. Whitehall after school I can’t miss.” Liese waved her hand and tried to appear unruffled, though her stomach felt like it held a lead weight.

“Oh? It’s only Tuesday. Aren’t those usually on Friday?”

“This isn’t about the literacy initiative,” she replied.

Blake’s upper lip twitched. “Is everything okay? He can be such an asshole.”

“Blake! Language.”

He looked around; there were no students close enough to hear their conversation, but he issued a half-hearted apology.

“The principal has been quite supportive of the initiatives I’ve proposed.” She cringed at how defensive she sounded. Blake made frequent negative comments about Mr. Whitehall, but Liese ignored them most of the time.

“Supportive?” Blake’s fingers curled into a fist. “I can’t stand the way he is when he’s around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” He picked up a pen to flip between his fingers. He had to be the most fidgety person she’d ever met.

“You can’t just say something like that and not explain.”

Blake checked over his shoulder, looking for eavesdroppers. Tristan, a tall, lanky boy who helped with set designs for the play approached the desk, book in hand, saving him from responding.

Like most of the students who worked with Blake, Tristan worshipped him as though he were the leader of a drama cult. Blake greeted Tristan with warmth and energy. For a moment Liese wished she felt some kind of attraction to Blake beyond a brotherly kinship. He struck her as a diehard romantic: the kind of man who would make a woman feel like the center of his universe, which did absolutely nothing for her. Romance needed to be tempered with a heavy dose of intensity and a side of unconventional to work for her, something she had trouble finding.

All the “A” types she usually went for had been jerks. She didn’t have a problem with men who were ambitious and liked to take control, but she couldn’t stand being patronized, or talked down to. Lately there seemed to be no shortage of that brand of man, and the other end of the spectrum was just as bad. “Nice” guys who weren’t clingy and overly needy seemed a challenge to pin down.

Blake and Tristan discussed which parts of the set needed work with flailing hand gestures. Liese watched them and tried to find Blake sexy, but failed. Sure, he was good-looking, but he just wasn’t her type. Thankfully, his disinterest in collegial dating meant she had nothing to worry about. When the discussion regarding set placement and the importance of proper lighting ended, Liese checked out Tristan’s book and sent him on his way.

Blake turned to her. “That reminds me, I know you’ve got this meeting with Ryder after school, so I understand if you can’t stay to help with rehearsals too, especially since you’re not feeling all that great.”

“It should be fine,” she reassured him, not at all confident she spoke the truth. He asked her every time if she could make rehearsals as though he expected her to tell him she couldn’t, though she’d never missed one. “I’ll come to the drama studio as soon as the meeting is over, provided it doesn’t run too late.”

A knot of anxiety twisted her stomach. She wondered what her consequences would be, and what a late meeting might mean. She would either be employed or not when she left the building at the end of the day.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He smiled brightly, oblivious to her internal discord, and sauntered out of the library. After he left, Liese realized he hadn’t ever explained what he’d meant by that comment about the principal’s behavior around her, which gave her something new to fixate on.

After the final bell, Liese took her sweet time shelving the last of the returned books and organizing the stacks at the far end of the library. It shouldn’t have taken half an hour to stock two dozen books. She was stalling. A million possible scenarios ran through her mind, most resulting in her termination. Others resulted in her being naked, underneath Ryder, on his desk. The latter was definitely preferable to the former, but the situation left a lot to be desired no matter the outcome.

Finished with perfecting the art of procrastination, Liese decided to give the remaining students a few extra minutes before she closed the library. She couldn’t kick them out as soon as the bell rang; they needed the space to work. It seemed a reasonable excuse if the principal confronted her about not going straight to his office after final dismissal.

But stepping out of the stacks, she noticed all the computer banks were empty, as were the tables in the center of the room. That seemed odd. She paused and looked around for stragglers in the reference section, but those stacks too were vacant. Her time to put off the inevitable had come to an end.

She crossed the room to her office and froze upon opening the door. With a sharp gasp, she took in Ryder’s relaxed form, seated behind her desk with her laptop flipped open, facing him.

“Holy—” She pressed her hand to her chest.

“Did I startle you?” he asked, looking smug. His fingers were tented under his chin, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He crossed one leg over the other and swiveled lazily back and forth.

“I thought I was going to meet you in your office.”

“This is more private.” He looked from her to the screen and back again. “Close the door, please, Annaliese.”

The use of her full name had a visceral effect on her. She stepped inside and did as she was asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind locking it,” he prompted with a wave of his hand. Then he refocused his attention on the screen, as if asking her to lock the door was no big deal.

With trembling fingers, she turned the lock, the click so loud it echoed through the room like a gunshot.

“Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

She dropped into it, fearing her legs might give out. Head bowed, she clasped hands and waited.

“Liese.”

She obeyed the implied command, forcing her eyes up to meet his. When she did, the ghost of a smile curved the corner of his mouth before he grew serious. Uncrossing his legs, Ryder shifted forward in the chair. He turned the laptop so they both could see the image on the screen. It definitely fell into Liese’s Top Ten, as the sub-folder was duly named. Along the bottom bar she noticed several tabs open—likely more images from her collection.

“What exactly were you thinking when you brought your laptop to work today?” Mild disapproval, or something of the like, creased his brow. His eyes moved from hers to the screen and back again. He tapped the scroll bar impatiently, then slid his thumb over the cursor, clicking on another open tab; the image that appeared was even more graphic than its predecessor.

“I couldn’t find my thumb drive,” Liese said, her voice rough. “I didn’t want to postpone showing you my new research because I’d misplaced it, so I brought my laptop, which was obviously a very bad idea.” She tried to get a read on him, but he regarded her with such scrutiny that she averted her eyes again. “I had no intention of viewing pornography in my place of employment.”

Ryder choked back a cough. Phrased as such, it sounded much worse than expected.

“Sugar.” She sighed and slumped in her chair. Liese felt like a teenager caught drinking in the bathroom, or hacking into blocked sites on the library computers: ready for a suspension. If only that was the worst that could happen.

A dark chuckle issued from across the desk, and Liese looked up to find Ryder browsing her Internet tabs. “What are you doing? That’s personal!”

He raised a brow in challenge. “Oh? And what you showed me earlier wasn’t? I only looked at what was open.” She worried he would think she was some kind of sexual deviant, which she wasn’t. Not really—she just preferred her sex life to fall slightly outside of the vanilla range.

“It’s also come to my attention that you attempted to place an order for this particular item . . .” The newest and best vibrator on the market came up on the display. “However, it appears as though you forgot some personal information. See right here?” Ryder pointed to the screen where her state and zip code didn’t match up. “Shall I submit it for you now?”

Liese stared at him, unable to tell if he was mocking her. He had one hell of a twisted sense of humor, if that happened to be the case. Dignity demolished, she was about to tell him off, but didn’t get the chance.

Ryder cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck before he continued. “My hope—” He leaned forward, a small, devilish grin spreading across his very kissable lips. “—is that in the meantime, you might be willing to have dinner with me and explain exactly what you plan to do with that item once it’s in your possession.”

Despite his words, his passivity made him difficult to gauge.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Liese uncrossed her legs, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. He followed the movement with his eyes. She prayed he wasn’t propositioning her as a means to sink the final nail into the coffin of her career, but that the months of pretending the attraction between them didn’t exist had finally come to an end. “I’m not sure I understand.” God, she hoped they were done pretending.

“You’re an intelligent woman, Liese. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She remained silent. Tucking her chin in, she looked up at him demurely. “So, to paraphrase,” she began in a conspiratorial whisper, “you’d like to have dinner with me so I can tell you about my masturbation habits? Would that be accurate, sir?”

Ryder’s eyes widened. “When you put it that way—”

“It sounds inappropriate?”

“Everything that’s happened between us today has been inappropriate.”

“But—”

Ryder raised his hand to cut her off. “Don’t misunderstand me. While I am very aware this is a dangerous path to take, I seem to have lost my ability to give a fuck. And after finding this—” He rose from the chair, gesturing to the laptop. “—I admit I would like to procure several of the other items available on this site. But I have to assume some may already be in your possession, rendering such purchases unnecessary. Again, we could discuss the items you do have as well, if you’d like.”

Liese blinked at him.

“Sorry, I ramble when I get excited. Of course, you already know that.” He leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk, the tick below his left eye belying his nervousness.

“I really don’t know what to say,” Liese replied. Her initial response was to jump at the opportunity, considering she’d been thinking about that very thing for ages. But the potential repercussions gave her pause. “Do you often proposition women this way?”

“Do you often doctor pornographic images of your superiors?” he shot back.

Liese rose from her chair, her eyes narrowing as she processed his body language. “Are you trying to blackmail me into fucking you?”

“Do you
want
to fuck me?”

The question sent a wave of heat through her body. “Do
you
want to fuck
me
?” she retorted, because she’d be damned if she was going to admit it first. The time she’d spent dissecting his every glance and touch had driven her insane. The connection between them wasn’t in her head, and he should be the one to confirm it.