Uncovering Annabelle (3 page)

Mike stood stock-still in the doorway, his
eyes intently following the progress of her tongue across her lips.
His entire body tensed. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily,
seeming like a man nearing the end of his patience. Shaking his
head, he opened his eyes again and his body relaxed into its former
pose. As she continued to stare, that little grin of his curved up
once again. The tension-filled moment passed as if it never
happened.

She was getting herself worked up over
nothing. There was no way he could possibly know about her
dreams—hot, steamy nighttime fantasies that ended way too soon and
left her drenched in sweat when she woke. No, he couldn’t know
about those. She’d never told a soul. She hardly even let herself
think about them, at least not in the daytime. When she crawled
into bed at night was a different story.

She knew he was still waiting on her, so she
summoned up her frostiest smile. It had been tried and tested and
was guaranteed to let a man know she wasn’t interested or amused.
“What do you mean by that comment?”

“Just what I said.” He continued to smile as
he straightened away from the door frame and sauntered slowly
across the room.

It was only when he was towering over her
that she was reminded she was still sitting on the floor. It was
very reminiscent of her position last night, and again her eyes
were drawn to the front of his jeans. She wondered if he could
possibly look as good naked in real life as he did in her
dreams.

This had to stop. Annabelle ran her hand
over her face in an effort to gain control of her emotions. This
was the first time she’d had to deal with Mike almost immediately
after one of her dreams. Usually, it was days before she had to
face him on the street or at some local function. This was too
soon. Her body was still thrumming with the pleasure from the night
before, and knew that this man was responsible for it. And it
wanted more.

Before she could scramble to her feet, he
stretched out his hand. “Here, let me help you.”

Annabelle was powerless to resist the lure
of his voice and the excuse to actually touch him. She placed her
hand in his. It was large and rough with calluses, and a faded scar
ran diagonally across the top. The heat from his skin spread up her
arm, leaving tingles in its wake.

He gently closed his fingers around hers and
tugged her to her feet. She’d never been this up close and personal
with him before. His eyes reminded her of chocolate—rich, deep,
delicious melt-in-your-mouth chocolate. His eyelashes were sinfully
long. They would make most men look feminine, but on Mike they were
extremely sexy. She could quite happily lose herself in his
eyes.

He radiated a steady warmth that made her
want to snuggle up against him, even on a hot day like today. The
strength and comfort he unconsciously projected drew her like a
lure. She took a deep breath and then wished she hadn’t. He even
smelled hot—a combination of woodsy soap and masculinity.

And she was still clinging to him even
though he’d opened his hand. Annabelle hastily stepped back to gain
herself some space and, hopefully, some perspective. Taking her
time, she smoothed her hair back again and pushed her glasses high
on her nose. It was time to stop acting like a ninny. She was a
take-charge, competent woman. “I’ll ask you again. What do you mean
by that remark, Mr. Sloan?”

Mike tilted his head to one side and studied
her intently, like she was some puzzle he needed to solve. She was
beginning to feel more than a little confused. “The
air-conditioning,” he explained. “I heard it broke. I came to fix
it.”

Now she was really embarrassed. How could
she even for a moment have misinterpreted his meaning? A man like
him would never be interested in a woman like her, at least not in
a sexual way. If she attracted a man at all, the relationship never
went anywhere. They always ended with her becoming nothing more
than a friend, a buddy, someone to talk to. It was time to forget
fantasy and get back to business.

“Harold Keats usually takes care of this
kind of thing. What are you doing here?” She really was more
comfortable with the retired Mr. Keats, who supplemented his income
by fixing things for the library. Personally, Annabelle thought he
did it more because he was lonely and not for the money. She didn’t
mind. He was always cheerful and knew all the goings-on around
town. He kept her well informed about local events, but always the
facts and never malicious gossip.

“Harold had a slight accident.” When Mike
saw the look of concern on her face, he added quickly, “But he’s
fine.”

Annabelle sank into her chair and motioned
for him to take the one across from her. “What happened?”

Mike settled his large frame into the wooden
chair, causing it to creak in complaint. It was more of a casual
sprawl actually. He kicked his long legs out in front of him and
laced his fingers together, resting them on his flat stomach.

“Harold slipped getting out of his shower
this morning and sprained his ankle. His sister took him to the
hospital.” Mike crossed his arms over his chest, bringing her
attention to his hard biceps. “He’ll be fine, but he’ll be laid up
for a week or two. In the meantime, I’m here to fill in for
him.”

Annabelle sat back in her chair, her fingers
clenching the armrests in a death grip. This could not be happening
to her. She couldn’t take a couple of weeks of close contact with
Mike. He made her hot and uncomfortable when he was just sitting
there with his muscular arms crossed across his massive chest.
Working with him every day, trying to hide her feelings for him,
would be the death of her. He’d be bound to notice her discomfort,
and then where would she be?

She could just imagine his look of pity when
he realized the staid librarian had the hots for him. She was
thirty years old, but except for a six-month relationship in
college that had been tepid at best, she had little to no
experience with men, and especially not one as potently sexy as
Mike.

“I’m sorry about Harold, but you don’t have
to take his place. There’s really nothing that can’t wait until he
comes back.”

“It’s as hot as Hades in here, Annabelle. I
figured you and the library patrons would appreciate a little cool
air.”

He looked at her as if daring her to dispute
him, and the worst part of it was that she couldn’t. She nodded,
conceding him his point. “All right, but just the air-conditioning.
Anything else can wait.”

“We’ll see,” he muttered ominously.

“You can fix it, can’t you?” She didn’t know
what compelled her to ask, but the question was out before she
could stop herself.

Mike straightened in his seat and scowled.
She squirmed in her chair, not at all comfortable. She had made him
very angry and that hadn’t been her intention.

She’d often wondered what it would be like
if he’d noticed her as more than just an acquaintance. Well, he was
certainly noticing her now and it wasn’t at all pleasant, which
went to prove the old adage you should be careful what you wished
for.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She didn’t
know why she felt compelled to soothe his male ego, only that she
did. “It’s just that the system is old and a new one isn’t in the
library budget for this year. I’m just hoping it can be fixed. I’ve
been sitting in a pool of sweat all morning.”

If she was alone, she would have slapped
herself in the head. That knock on the desk must have really
scrambled her brains. She should have just blurted out that she
probably smelled and was disgustingly damp too. How attractive.

She tried to distract him and make amends
for her previous coolness. After all, it looked as if she’d have no
choice but to work with him for the next while. “I was just trying
to plug in that little desk fan to try to get some relief.”

A smile spread across Mike’s face. “I
wondered what you were doing under your desk. But to answer your
question, yeah, I can fix it.”

“How come you volunteered for the job? I’m
glad you did,” she tacked on quickly when she saw his brows draw
together over his eyes. “But why you?”

Mike took his time, picking his words
carefully. “Several reasons, actually. First, I’m a friend of
Harold and he was worried about leaving you in the lurch. I didn’t
want him to worry.”

Annabelle nodded. This was a reason she
could accept. Friendship. Loyalty. Both admirable
characteristics.

“Secondly, I own my own construction
business. We’re a small operation, but first-rate. I’ve always been
good with my hands, and I’ve been fixing things since I was a kid.
This is my town, so I consider it my civic duty to help out.”

Annabelle nodded again. It confirmed all the
tidbits of gossip people had told her about Mike since she moved to
Summersville six months ago to take the position of head librarian.
He was a good man. A solid citizen and a loyal friend. Someone you
could depend on. She would just control her wayward thoughts for a
few days and everything would be fine. She paid attention as Mike
started to speak again.

“The last reason is the most important
one.”

Annabelle leaned forward in
anticipation.

“I want you.” Mike stared at her, his eyes
hot, his body tense as he delivered his final reason.

Annabelle sat there dumbfounded for a
moment. “You want me for what?”

Mike stood and came around to her side of
the desk. He placed his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her
in. He leaned closer and spoke softly, but plainly. “I want you in
my bed.”

She could not mistake his intent as he ran
his tongue over her lips in a sensual glide. When she gasped and
they parted, he took advantage and slipped inside. He teased her
tongue with his, moving it in and out in a rhythm that mimicked
lovemaking.

Seemingly of its own volition, her hand rose
to cover the side of his face. He needed a shave. The roughness of
his beard stubble against her hand was stimulating. Annabelle could
only imagine how arousing it would be if he rubbed his chin over
her breasts. Maybe even lower.

His tongue continued to play with hers,
teasing until she moaned. It was that sound that brought her back
to her senses. She’d never made such a sound before, except in her
dreams.

When she pulled back, Mike straightened away
from her. “That can’t happen again.” It was an automatic response
and Annabelle was almost sorry the moment she made it. How she
longed to give in to her feelings for this man. But that way would
only lead to heartache.

She was under no misconceptions that a
relationship with Mike would last for long. Her past history with
men was proof of that. And Annabelle had to live in this town. More
than that, she wanted to live here. She loved her job and the
friends she’d made and didn’t want to be an object of gossip and
pity.

“It will happen again. That and more.” She
wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a threat. Either way, Mike
looked incredibly arrogant as he towered over her with his arms
crossed and a scowl on his face. “I know you enjoyed that as much
as I did.”

“That’s no reason for it to happen again.”
When Mike’s face took on a smug, satisfied look, she realized her
error. She hadn’t denied that she liked it. This was like waving a
red flag in front of an angry bull. She knew men were competitive
creatures.

“I’ve got my tools in the truck. I’ll just
go get them and get started.” He was almost out of her office when
he turned. “We can discuss the rest over dinner tonight.”

He was gone before she had the presence of
mind to say no, because she knew that deep in her heart, a part of
her was screaming,
Yes!

• • •

Mike Sloan strode toward his truck, which
was parked just outside the Summersville Library. Only eleven
o’clock in the morning and already the day was a scorcher. The heat
shimmered just above the pavement and Mike could feel the sweat
forming on his brow. But no matter how blistering it was outside,
nothing even came close to the temperature inside the library. It
was hot. And it was all due to Annabelle Lee Murphy.

When he’d walked into her office and saw her
tucked under her desk with her butt in the air, he’d wanted to lock
the door to her office, kneel down behind her, and lift up her long
floral skirt so he could gain access to what was underneath. It was
hard to tell with the shapeless clothes she favored, but Annabelle
had a voluptuous figure. This he knew for a fact. He’d made a study
of it. Every time he’d seen her since she moved here six months
ago.

At first glance, Annabelle seemed ordinary.
She was thirty years old. He’d asked Harold, who knew more about
her than anyone else in town. She wore her dark hair in a bun and
covered her blue eyes with wire-rimmed glasses. Her figure seemed
unexceptional. Her smile was inviting. That was at first
glance.

But something had drawn him back for a
second glance. And then a third. After a close study, he’d come to
realize that for some unknown reason Annabelle hid her sexiness
from the world. The hair that she kept ruthlessly tamed was a rich
mahogany color. He didn’t know if it was shoulder-length, hung to
her waist, or somewhere in between. He longed to release it from
its confinement and let it flow. He wanted to spend hours sifting
his fingers through it and having Annabelle tease him with it.

The eyes behind the glasses were intelligent
and kind. Both were pluses in Mike’s mind. He couldn’t abide silly
women, nor did he like those who were cruel to others. Those baby
blues were vulnerable, yet inquisitive. He’d seen her watching him.
The longing in those eyes, and the fact that she was single and
available, had given rise to some steamy fantasies. She wanted him,
even if she hadn’t yet admitted that fact to herself. But she
would. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.