by JoAnn Ross
The woman glanced around, combed a self-conscious hand through her sleek, expertly streaked blond hair, then leaned across the desk and whispered a single word.
Without so much as blinking an eye, Dani nodded and searched the computer database for whips.
Success! She plucked a stubby yellow pencil from its clothespin can holder Matt had made her for Mother's Day last year in Cub Scouts and wrote Whips and Kisses, along with the catalogue number onto a piece of paper.
“It's on the second floor. I can show you.”
“That's all right. I can find it.” As if uncomfortable having shared even that possible glimpse into her private life, the patron snatched the paper from Dani's hand and headed off toward the elevators, four-hundred-dollar high heels click-clacking on the pine floor.
“You're welcome,” Dani murmured.
Since the Blue Bayou library was a great deal smaller than the Fairfax County branch she was accustomed to, Dani was exceedingly grateful for the inter-library loan system. She was filling out ILL requests when the door opened and in Jack strolled, looking outrageously sexy in jeans, a black T-shirt, and those wedge-heeled cowboy boots that gave even more of a swagger to his walk.
“Anyone ever tell you that you look too damn sexy to be a librarian?”
“Perhaps you should join the twenty-first century,” she said sweetly. “Things have changed. Why, I can't remember the last time I wore my hair in a bun.”
He tilted his head and studied her. “Wouldn't make any difference if you did. Any male with blood still stirring in his veins would just fantasize taking out the pins and running his fingers through it.”
When a too vivid, long-ago memory of him arranging her waist-length hair over her bare breasts flashed through her mind, Dani began straightening the reservation requests, tapping the edges together. A good many of them were for Jack's latest.
“Tell me you're not here to take your carpenters back.”
He briefly glanced up at the hammering coming from the third floor as if he'd forgotten that the men were working up there. “No. Actually, I came to check out the librarian.”
“You really ought to find a collaborator to help write your dialogue. Because that pickup line probably goes back to a time when books were carved in stone.”
“Next time I'll do better.” He toyed with the ends of her hair. “What I really need is to get myself a library card.”
“A library card?” Dani knocked his hand away. Jack had always been one to touch easily and often. Having grown up in a house where casual affection was an unknown, alien thing, with the exception of her child, Dani was not.
“This is a library, isn't it?”
“Of course it is.”
He tucked his thumbs in his pockets, the gesture drawing her attention to the front of those outlaw black jeans that intimately cupped his sex. “Then I guess I've come to the right place.”
She forced her gaze back to his face, which wasn't all that much of a help due to the devilish, knowing look in his eyes. “Why do you want a library card?”
“ 'Cause I agree with Groucho Marx. ‘Outside of a dog, a book's a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read.’ ”
She absolutely refused to smile. Letting her guard down for even a minute with this man was just too dangerous. “Don't you have a book of your own to write? Or some paint to scrape?”
“The book's in the mulling stage. My heroine is temperamental.” His smile was slow and rakishly seductive. “Like most beautiful females I know.”
He made himself comfortable on the edge of her desk. “As for the paint, it'll be there tomorrow. Maybe I'll even check out a book on solvents.” He trailed a lazy finger down the back of her hand and set her nerves to humming. “See if I can find somethin' to replace elbow grease.”
“I'll need a photo ID.” The trick, Dani told herself firmly, was to keep everything businesslike.
His lips quirked a bit, as if he privately thought she was being a bit petty demanding identification, which she admittedly was, but stood up again and whipped his driver's license out of the back pocket of his jeans, which, when he handed it to her, Dani took as yet more proof that life wasn't fair. Wasn't there some law against taking a terrific picture at the DMV?
She typed the information into the computer, then printed out the card.
“Just remember,” she warned as she handed it to him. “I know where you live. Plus I can look up lots of ways to get back at people who don't return library books.”
“Sounds kinky.”
As if on cue, the blond chose that moment to return with her red Whips and Kisses and two other thick books of erotica.
“Go ahead.” Jack moved out of her way. “I'm going to be a while.”
“If you're sure.” She gazed up at him as if she were a chocoholic and he'd been dipped in Hershey's syrup, causing Dani to wonder if that particular scenario was in any of those sex books she was checking out.
He flashed her an all-too-appealing smile, appearing worlds different from the grim-faced man on the jacket photo of his books. “My maman taught me to always let pretty ladies go first.”
It was all Dani could do not to roll her eyes as the patron squeezed in front of him. The sexuality she radiated was turning the artificially cooled air in the library so steamy Dani could barely breathe.
Jack glanced over the woman's shoulder, then lifted his eyebrows at the titles as Dani date-stamped the books.
After slanting him one last-ditch come-hither look, the woman left the library.
“I'd sure as hell love to have myself a little glimpse into her fantasy life,” he mused.
“If you leave right now, you can probably catch up with her.” How fast could a woman walk in those ridiculous ice-pick heels anyway? “I've no doubt she'd be delighted to share a few of the more kinky ones with you.”
“Non,” he decided. “She's pretty enough. But not my type.”
Dani would not demean herself by asking what his type was these days.
He placed both hands on her desk and leaned toward her. “Wanna know what kind of lady I like?”
He was close. Too close. “Not particularly.”
Needing space, Dani swept up a stack of books from the return bin and headed off to reshelve them.
“Too bad. Because me, I'm gonna tell you.” He took the books from her.
“What do you think you're doing?”
“Makin' up for an oversight.”
“What oversight is that?” She shelved the book on animal husbandry he handed her and moved on to the next row.
“I never carried your books to school like a proper boyfriend.”
“It was summer. There wasn't any school.” She slipped a how-to book on building your own deck between one on construction materials and another on roofing. “Besides, you were hardly a proper boyfriend.”
“That's true enough.” His chuckle was warm and wicked. “Nothing proper about me. Which I seem to recall was just the way you liked it.”
He handed her another book and followed her around the corner. “You ever do it in the stacks, chère?”
“Of course not.”
“Me neither.” Dani suspected the smile he flashed was undoubtedly much like the one Lucifer had pulled out to convince all those heavenly angels into joining him in hell. “It'll give us something to look forward to.”
“I wouldn't hold your breath.” Though she'd go to her grave before admitting it, his sexual arrogance fit him as well as those snug black jeans.
“You're a tough nut to crack. Good thing for both of us I've always enjoyed a challenge.”
He took the last two books from her hands, tossed them onto the rolling cart nearby, then shifted her so that her back was against the book-filled shelves.
Dani drew in a sharp breath. “Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Whatever it is you think you're going to do.” Her voice hitched. “This is a public library, Jack.”
/> “And I'm the public.” He moved in, pressing his body against hers. His fully aroused body. “You're trembling.”
The husky note in his voice felt like a caress. “I am not,” she lied.
“You don' have to worry, Danielle. I'm not gonna hurt you.”
“I'm a librarian.” Her pulse quickened and her bones began to melt as he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers.
He nibbled on her bottom lip and drew a shudder from deep inside her. “A very tasty one.”
“We can't do this,” she complained, her body belying her protest as it molded compliantly against his. It took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to start rubbing against him.
“Don't look now, but we're doin' it pretty damn well. So far.”
“That's my point.” She managed to get her hands between them before she did something that would land her on the front page of the Clarion. And perhaps even on Jimbo Lott's police blotter. “We've already gone too far.” She pushed against his chest. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
She felt him tense. Then back away. “Not today.” He was looking at her not with lust, but an odd, unreadable sort of curiosity that had her more nervous than the sex thing. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She scrambled to tuck her blouse back into her skirt before someone came looking for her.
He kissed her fingers, which seemed to have established a direct connection to other, more vital body parts. The bad-boy grin returned. “For giving me a new fantasy to contemplate while I'm getting all hot and sweaty pounding nails this afternoon.”
Danielle knew she was in deep, deep trouble when the thought of Jack Callahan all hot and sweaty was almost enough to make her go running after him.
The day of Dani's trip to Angola prison dawned dark and rainy. Not a very propitious sign, she thought as she watched the water streaking down the kitchen window. She knew Matt was picking up on her nervousness. His eyes followed her, concern easily readable in them.
“Don't worry, sweetie, it's going to be okay.” She ruffled his hair. “Better than okay. It's going to be great.” She wondered which of them she was encouraging, her son or herself.
“Do you think he'll like me?”
“I know he'll love you. How could he not? He's your grandfather. And you're a very special boy.”
There was a knock at the front door. A moment later Orèlia entered the kitchen with Jack. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she said with robust cheer.
“Morning,” he greeted them.
Dani's nerves were already tangled enough. She didn't need Jack making them worse. “What are you doing here?”
“It's lovely to see you, too, chère.” He skimmed a look over her. “Don't you look pretty as a speckled pup. You remind me of Audrey Hepburn in that movie. You know, the one about eatin' breakfast in a jewelry store.”
Having no clue what the appropriate attire to wear to a prison might be, she'd changed clothes three times before finally settling on the simple sleeveless black dress. She'd twisted her hair into a smooth French roll she hoped would withstand today's humidity.
It was foolish to be dressing up for her father, but although she'd assured herself that she'd grown up, that she no longer yearned for his approval, Dani had also decided there was nothing wrong with looking her best when he saw her for the first time in more than seven years.
“A jewelry store's a funny place to eat breakfast,” Matt said.
“Perhaps. But it's a very nice movie nonetheless.” Dani snatched up his cereal bowl and headed toward the dishwasher.
“Mom, I'm not finished yet.”
“Oh.” She felt Jack's amused look as she plunked it back down in front of him. “Sorry.”
“You must be Matt,” Jack said. “I'm Jack Callahan.”
Matt eyed Jack's hair and earring. “You're not a pirate, are you?”
“ 'Fraid not.”
“I didn't think so,” he said a little wistfully. “But mom told me about the pirates who used to live here, so I thought just maybe a few might still be around.”
“None that I know of,” Jack answered. “Except for a couple subcontractors I've been dealing with lately,” he added on afterthought. “And I'm not real certain, but I suppose, since my maman's people have lived here just about forever, there's a chance I might have a pirate lurking somewhere in my family tree.”
“That'd be cool.”
“I guess it would, at that.” Jack grinned. “I'm an old friend of your maman.”
“From when she lived here?”
“Sure thing. We went to school together.”
“Mom said she went to the same school I'm going to. Holy Assumption.”
“That's the one. So, what's your favorite class?”
“Reading.”
“Hey, mine was, too. Looks like we got somethin' in common, you and me.”
“Did you like made-up stories?” Matt asked. “Or real ones?”
“Both. They each have their appeal.”
“I like made-up ones,” Matt said. “Sometimes I think up stories, but I've never written any down.”
“You should.” Jack tugged the Orioles cap lower over Matt's eyes. “An imagination is a great thing. You wouldn't want to waste it. . . . What else do you like to do? I liked recess a lot.”
“Me, too.”
“Is the baseball diamond still there?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. But I don't play baseball.”
“Guess you're a hoops man.” Jack rubbed his jaw and studied Matt. “Or maybe football. You look like a running back to me. I'll bet you can slip through the line like greased lightning.”
“Not really. I don't play because nobody picks me for their team.”
“I didn't know that.” Dani was surprised. He'd always been one of the more popular boys at Fox Run. “It's probably because you're the new boy in class,” she said consolingly.
“That's not it. They don't pick me because I don't know how to play.”
Oh, Lord. She didn't need this. Not now. Not with a possible confrontation with her father looming and Jack seeming to take up most of the cozy kitchen.
“I wish you'd said something before now. But don't worry, we'll get a book and learn together.”
“It's okay, Mom,” he assured her quickly, looking as if he wished he hadn't brought the subject up. “The guys let me keep score, 'cause I'm real good with numbers and have all the rules memorized. Besides, you can't learn to play baseball from a book.”
“Of course you can,” the librarian in her rose to the occasion. “You can learn to do anything from a book.”
“Your maman's right,” Jack said. “Books are powerful tools. But sometimes it's easier to learn things by doin' them. Me, I'm no Barry Bonds, but I used to play with my brothers, one who was good enough to get himself a scholarship playing third base at Tulane. How 'bout I give you a few pointers?”
“Really?”
When the wild hope in his eyes lit up enough to banish all the clouds from here to Mississippi, Dani enjoyed seeing her son so excited. She was also disturbed that Jack was the cause.
“Sure. It'll be fun. Maybe we can talk your maman into shagging fly balls.”
“That'd be way cool. Did you used to play with her? When you were in school together?”
“Mais yeah.” Dani heard the choked laughter in his voice and didn't dare look at him. “Your maman and me, we played some mighty fine games once upon a time ago.”
Matt looked up at Dani, as if seeking confirmation. When she didn't immediately respond, his gaze shifted out the screen door. “Mom, look.” He pointed toward the lawn where a six-foot-long alligator lay, seeking warmth from a narrow ray of sun that had broken through the dark pewter clouds. “The alligator's back.”
“Bet you never saw any gators at your old house,” Jack guessed.
Dani admired the subtle way he'd managed to point out a benefit to their move, a positive counterpoint to balance her son's less-than-positive
playground problems.
“The most we ever had in Fairfax was squirrels.”
“Squirrels are okay. But a gator's somethin' special. When I was a boy, just 'bout your age, we had one who lived at our house. My daddy tried like heck to get it to move on down the road. But M'su Cocodrile, which is another name we Cajuns sometimes call our gators, he liked it right where he was. So Daddy had to figure out some other way to deal with him.”
“Did he shoot it?”
“Nah. That wouldn't have been fair. Since the gator was jus' lying there soaking up the sunshine, minding his own business. Mon Dieu, he'd stay out there all day, so long his shiny black skin would turn all gray and ashy lookin'.”
“So what did he do?” Matt asked. “Your dad, not M'su Cocodrile.”
“He tamed him.”
“No way.”
“Way. My hand to God.” Jack lifted his right hand. “Now, it's not easy, trainin' gators, but my daddy, he was a patient man. The first thing he did was get down on his belly, flat out on the ground, so he was lyin' eyeball to eyeball with M'su Cocodrile.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. And then they had themselves a staring contest, that ole gator and my daddy.”
Matt's eyes had widened to huge blue saucers. Dani tried to remember the last time she'd seen him so engaged in anything, and came up blank.
“Who won?”
“My daddy, of course. Wasn't a man nor beast in the state could stare him down. And I know, having tried it a time or two myself.”
“Did M'su Cocodrile go away after he lost the staring contest?”
“Non. Oh, he wasn't happy about bein' bested that way, he. So he up and slapped his tail onto the water so hard—wham!” —Jack slammed his palm onto the table and made Matt jump—“water went sprayin' so high in the air, the weather guy on KXKC over in New Iberia reported that it was rainin' crevi over three parishes. That's a little teeny crawfish,” he explained.
Clearly skeptical, Matt rubbed his nose. “Crawfish were coming down from the sky?”
“They sure were. Oh, it was somethin' to behold, let me tell you. But M'su Cocodrile, even as mad as he was to be bested by a man, still wasn't about to leave, because he liked our front yard so much. But we didn't have to worry any longer.”