N. Walters - By the Book

What he’d said was still ringing in her brain. “I thought you grew up here.”

“I did.” He stood, brushing his hands on the front of his jeans. “But I was gone for more than fifteen years.”

“What did you do all those years?” She placed her mug on the counter beside his and folded her arms loosely across her stomach, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in her belly.

“Army.”

She smiled then. “Excuse me for saying so, but I’m having a hard time picturing you in the army. You don’t seem like the type who would take orders well.”

He gave a small chuckle and threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing the dark mass away from his face. “That was a problem at times, but my group had a lot of leeway and we were pretty independent.”

“Your group?” She could hear the affection and respect in his voice.

“Special Forces.” He turned away and walked toward the window. He stood with his back to her, peering out over the slightly overgrown yard. She knew all the trees needed to be pruned and the grass needed to be cut. When it was done, it would be a beautiful space for her to enjoy.

“Why did you come back?” She knew it was none of her business, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Everything about Jonah fascinated her. She couldn’t claim to know him well, but she could hear the pride he had in his former career.

He turned to face her, hands on his hips. “My father died and my sister needed me.”

The brusque tone told her that this was a closed subject.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s not. But you’d hear about it eventually anyway. The one thing that never changes in a small town is the love of gossip.” He came toward her and this time she forced herself not to back away from him. It wasn’t easy.

He was bigger than her, but not as big as Shamus. She frowned. Shamus might be taller, but Jonah exuded a sense of power, of menace. Maybe it was because she was attracted to Jonah, while Shamus was nothing more than a friend. Whatever the reason, Jonah made her heart pound faster with each step closer he came. He stopped right in front of her.

Reaching out his hand, he touched her hair. She scowled. “I know it’s a mess.”

“It’s beautiful. Like fire.” He threaded his fingers through the mass that fell below the ponytail holder. “Much like you. You try and keep all that fire contained, but it’s there just below the surface. Waiting for the right man to release it.”

Having Jonah close to her set her internal furnace rumbling on full. Her earlier chill was gone and Amanda could feel a bead of sweat rolling down the center of her back.

She swallowed, trying to think of something witty to say. She came up empty. No man had ever said anything like that to her before.

She was no virgin, but she wasn’t exactly overly experienced either. Two serious relationships, both with staid, sensible men, did not make her an expert by any means.

Still, she had to say something. “You think you’re the right man?” She couldn’t believe she was challenging him. Was she out of her mind? A man like him would respond instantly to a challenge. Was that what she wanted?

Jonah’s smile deepened. “Oh yeah, sugar. I’m definitely the man to release all that pent-up fire.” He shifted his body so close she could feel the heat rolling off him even though they weren’t touching anywhere. Her nipples tightened and her core clenched.

His fingers feathered over her cheek and down the side of her neck. A shiver racked her body, raising goose bumps on her arms, but it certainly wasn’t because she was cold.

If anything she was hot. Too hot.

He traced her collarbone and even through the layers of her shirt and her sweater, she felt scorched by the heat of his touch.

“Maybe,” she countered.

He closed his hand over her breast and squeezed gently. “Definitely.” She moaned, unable to stop herself.

He only cupped her breast for a second before sliding his hand over her belly.

Amanda felt her arms falling to her sides and her breath caught in her chest as his fingers crept lower. When they were almost to her mound, he stopped. “Thing is, I’m not looking for a relationship. Nothing permanent.”

His words dampened her sexual excitement as effectively as a cold shower, but they didn’t smother them completely. Arousal still simmered beneath her skin as she forced herself to take a step away from him. “I see.”

He sighed and let his hand drop back to his side. “Do you?” Jonah stared at her, his green eyes ablaze with pure sexual heat. “I want you, Amanda. Make no mistake about it.

But I’m not the settling down type of guy.”

“I see.” She wished she could think of something else to say, but those two words seemed to be the extent of her vocabulary at the moment. Knowing she needed to collect herself, she turned away from him and walked over to stand in the empty eating nook.

“I’m not the kind of woman who has a one-night stand.”

“It wouldn’t be one night.” The whisper startled her. She hadn’t heard him moving to stand right behind her. “I’d need a lot more time than that to sate myself with you. That will take days, maybe weeks. I want to take you fast and hard. Then I want to fuck you slow and easy. I want to pound into your sweet flesh until you scream with pleasure.”

Amanda swayed. The pictures he was putting in her brain threatened to overwhelm her totally. “I can’t think.” This was outside of her realm of experience. Hot guys like Jonah didn’t say things like this to a frizzy-headed woman with freckles. Sleek, sophisticated blondes were more likely to be the target of all this potent testosterone. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand?” He pressed closer and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her ass. “I want you and you want me. We’re both single, healthy adults.

What’s the harm?”

He stepped back then and went calmly to his toolbox. “I’ll have an estimate for you by tomorrow.”

She faced him, unable to believe he was just going to drop that bombshell and then leave. “You’re going?”

“Unless you want me to stay?”

The way he said it left no doubt in her mind that if he stayed it would be for one reason only. As attracted to him as she was, she’d just met him. She shook her head.

“I didn’t think so, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.” He hefted the heavy red box in his left hand. “I’ll keep asking.”

His work boots rang against the hardwood floor as he walked calmly down the hallway. Amanda heard the door open and close.

She stood in the center of the kitchen and stared at the plain white walls. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Amanda decided that work was the best way to get her mind off Jonah. Setting up her office chair in what would be her new workspace, she pulled Elizabeth Sutter’s boxes of books alongside it. With her laptop perched on a couple of stacked boxes, she started to work.

She muttered to herself as she opened book covers, checked bindings and dust covers, and gauged overall condition before logging the book title, author, year of publication, publisher and any other pertinent information into Elizabeth’s file.

Most of the books weren’t worth much. She would list them in her online shop, but she’d also put them on display when she opened her little bookshop here in her front room. She tried not to think how long that might be delayed.

There was no point in hurrying to paint until the electrical work was done. Although she was going to take her paint chips when she went over to her friends’ house for supper. Both Cyndi and Shamus had a good eye for color and she wanted their opinions.

Cyndi had turned her family home into a first-rate B & B that was both classy and homey at the same time. And Shamus worked in the construction industry. He was sure to have ideas about what would work in a home like hers. She wanted to try to keep the colors as authentic to the original age of the house as possible.

Amanda pulled open another box of books and began to sort through them. When she was finished logging the books into her computer, she lightly penciled in a number code just inside the front cover. That was how she kept track of her inventory. Customers had a specific number and each one of their books was logged accordingly. When she finished with each book, it was put in one of two piles—inexpensive hardcover or absolute gem.

She was still excited about the copy of A Clockwork Orange and she’d added four more books to that pile. One was a science fiction classic from the seventies, which she knew would sell for a pretty penny. The other three were hard-to-find original hardbacks from popular authors. Not overly priceless, but certainly able to fetch around a hundred dollars each.

Whenever she was uncertain, she made a note to do a check of her online sources and compare prices. Amanda made it a point never to be at the top end of the pricing range unless she had something super rare. It was better to be just below the top price.

More chance of selling the book that way.

She was at the final box when she found it. Amanda immediately knew that it wasn’t a regular book, but a journal. And it was old. The leather binding and the gold-embossed lettering on the front told her that. Her fingers hovered just above the name. She didn’t touch it though, not wanting the oils on her fingers to damage the old lettering.

“Cecilia Sutter.” Sitting back in the chair, Amanda carefully opened the cover on the journal. The writing was ornate, yet neat. It harkened back to an age where a person’s penmanship mattered.