by Jane Cousins
Oh, she was in the children’s wing… on a camp bed. The soft pink light filtering through the high windows suggested that dawn had only just made its presence known. Oh thank heavens, she had plenty of time to clean up and get dressed for the day before any of the other library staff turned up for work.
Question, how had she ended up in here last night?
Absently she rubbed her eyes, pleased they didn’t feel gritty. In fact, other than her throbbing head she felt exceedingly good… rested even. She spied her glasses and hurriedly put them on, quickly taking another look around the immediate area. Something about the stage area caught her eye, the column of wood carved with cute whimsical creatures. Was that Dave or one of his son’s work? Wow, talk about talented… talented? No, that wasn’t the right word… handy… oh my God, Erik Valhalla!
Jumbled slivers of memory assaulted her but nothing that was making any sense. Merda, what had Erik Valhalla done to her that she’d ended up on his cot…? She glanced down to double check, fully dressed, not even a pearl button out of place. She should be relieved, incredibly relieved. So why instead was she overcome by an intense wave of disappointment?
Because she was mad that’s why, crazy - cracked in the head - insane. There was no other explanation for it.
Once upon a time she might have been a shy, quiet mouse of a librarian but over the past eighteen months, if nothing else, she’d proven to herself that she was smart, resourceful and independent. But her camouflage as a dowdy meek librarian was being seriously threatened here. Waking up on strange men’s cots? Modelling half nude? Going toe to toe with Erik Valhalla verbally? All of which could definitely be catalogued as being his fault, taunting her, tempting her, making her feel hot and shivery. Which was seriously not good for her chaos whammy delicate system.
Ignore him, that’s what she needed to start doing from this moment forward. And more importantly get as far away from the man as was possible. Well, once she found her shoes.
Typical her luck, think of the devil and who should appear.
The nearby heavy plastic drop sheet parted and Erik walked in, freshly showered from the looks of his still damp hair and the towel he had draped around his broad shoulders. He was dressed in khaki work pants and a blue long sleeved shirt that did amazing things for his eyes. Cara bit back a moan… so far her plan to ignore him was not off to a particularly successful start.
“Well, well, my little booze hound is finally up and around.” He strode over, handing her a tall glass of what looked like frothy milk. “Here, drink this.”
“What is it?” She wrinkled her nose.
“A protein shake. It’s good for you, now drink it all up.” Erik stared down at her, tapping his booted foot impatiently.
“Stop looming over me. Go stand over there.” Merda, his freshly showered scent had woken up the pulsing molten ball of lava that had settled between her legs. She was rested and Erik was all kinds of gorgeous, capable of hitting way too many of her buttons, especially the one that might send her powers nuclear. He needed to back up a hundred feet or so… just to be on the safe side.
“I’ll move if you drink your shake.” He’d barely finished his sentence before Cara was chugging down the liquid. Good, the woman needed some nutrients, there was colour back in her cheeks but she still looked too fragile to his carefully observant eyes. He backed up, draping his damp towel over a nearby chair.
The drink wasn’t half as bad as Cara had feared. Flavoured with chocolate the cool liquid helped her headache and filled the empty pit of her stomach. Putting down the empty glass she glanced Erik’s way, frowning. “What happened last night?”
“Happened?” His left eyebrow quirked up briefly as a wolfish grin settled on his face.
Cara sent him a glare before leaning over to snag her shoes and yank them on, immediately standing. “How did I end up here last night… with you… on your cot?” At least her dis-orientation was keeping her mind off the pulsing lava ball.
Erik’s grin widened further, cobalt eyes blazing with amusement.
“I mean, not with you on your cot… I mean, here, with you… and then me waking up on your cot… alone.”
“Disappointed?”
“Of course not.” She felt the colour rush to her cheeks, merda, she hoped Erik thought it anger and not the embarrassment she was feeling at how accurate his guess was.
Erik moved across the space to lean lazily back against the tarpaulin covered stack of equipment. “It’s a tale as old as time. A humble talented man is labouring away when a good time floozy strolls into his world, drinks all his wine, proceeds to hit on him, before passing out on the only flat surface available. Our hero gallantly watches over her, protecting her throughout the long night… well, that and the fact you snore means there was no way I was getting any sleep last night.”
“I… I…” Cara wasn’t sure what she should say to any of that malarkey. If she was taller, had bigger hands, then she’d seriously consider throttling the man. “I did not do any of those things.”
“So that throbbing headache of yours isn’t because you scarfed down all of my wine?”
Cara lifted her hand to rub her forehead. “Err…” Okay, she did have a vague recollection of drinking wine. More worrisome was how she felt watching one of his large hands move back and forth over the weirdly shaped tarpaulin covered equipment. It was almost like he was caressing it… weirder still was the corresponding feeling over her hip and back… as if his hand was actually caressing her. Merda, what was going on with her? Hold on to your anger Cara, do not let your guard down.
“A-hah. So you do remember.” Erik smiled broadly.
“I remember the wine…” Cara acknowledged. “But I did not hit on you.”
“Are you sure about that? You don’t remember giggling…?”
Oh God, had she been giggling? She never giggled? But… oh, damn, how embarrassing, she thought she might have been.
“And how could you forget rubbing my chest… kissing it.”
Cara’s eyes widened in horror, why did that all sound vaguely familiar, oh no, oh no. Had she really done all that? And the gall of the man to throw it back in her face. Her anger at Erik spiked. “You are a complete an utter jerk, you know that right?” She spun on her heels stalking across to the plastic that enclosed the pre-school area, sweeping it aside, exiting his proximity fast. Cara raised her voice just before she ducked under the plastic sheeting pinned up across the arched door leading to the central dome. “And I don’t snore!”
Erik’s delighted rumble of amused laughter followed on her heels.
Between her legs, the ball of lava clenched as if it was gathering strength to punch out meta-physically. Glaring down at her own body, Cara wagged a warning finger. “And you! Don’t even think about it.”
* * *
Cara checked her watch again, it was just after six. Hidden away from view in one of the reading nooks on the upper mezzanine walkway in the sparsely populated Scientific and Medical wing of the library, she scooted even lower in her large comfy reading chair. She just had to hide out for the next ninety minutes, the art class would be over by then and Erik Valhalla would be safely back behind plastic sheeting and she could go home. Yes, tonight she was going home.
Not because she was scared of spending another night under the same roof as Erik, no, absolutely not. The real reason was the wind… it was gone… instead there was driving rain that had been falling steadily for hours. It was a perfectly timed miracle. Maybe her luck was finally turning.
Now all she had to do was play it low key for another hour and half, and then she could sneak… walk, she could walk out, head held high, because nothing, absolutely nothing had happened between her and Erik last night.
Thankfully her hazy memories had cleared up as the day progressed and she now remembered everything that had happened the previous evening.
Which in turn had kind of raised a few more questions. Why had Erik been so nice to her last night?
Talking, laughing, like a normal person… Heavens, in what book could that man be considered normal? With those looks, that laugh, those hands… that chest? She clearly remembered rubbing it and seriously, those tight t-shirts he wore did not do it justice.
Feeling a wave of heat suffuse her body and the answering loud pulse of the hot molten lava ball she quickly turned her attention to the book on ancient death rituals she was reading. Do not think about Erik, head down remember, playing it cool on all fronts.
“There you are.”
Cara looked up immediately. Marta stood there, pulling on her coat, wrapping a scarf around her neck. Neither of which was a good sign since Marta was supposed to be covering Cara’s shift this evening so she didn’t have to deal with… the person who she refusing to think about it.
In her sixties somewhere, greying blonde hair and always smiling, Marta was good people in Cara’s opinion.
“What’s up?”
“Kelsey just rang. The river behind our place looks like it might burst its banks. I need to get home.”
Cara quickly struggled out of the large comfy chair. “That’s not good. Go, go, I’ve got you covered.”
Cara had met Marta’s husband, Kelsey, a number of times over the past three weeks. Kelsey, an engineer, who worked from home, occasionally bought Marta lunch of a workday. The twosome often disappearing into the library vault, for what Cara could only surmise was a nooner.
At their age! It was heartening and a little depressing, when she contemplated her own future, the lonely road she had to travel thanks to her curse, powers, whatever name you wanted to label her disaster whammy. They often said it was lonely at the top and she had already surmised that being the current Queen of Chaos was going to prove that adage right.
Cara watched Marta leave, damn, so much for hiding and her grand - carefully thought out - plan. Heaving a sigh, she gathered all her books and headed down the nearest spiral staircase. So what, all she had to do was poke her head into the dome room, check everything was okay and then fade into the background for ninety minutes. She wouldn’t even have to strictly interact with Erik, plus there would no doubt be a roomful of beautiful eager - mother approved - candidates present vying for his attention.
Hmmm, the hot chaotic ball started to pulse, stupid - know nothing - uncontrollable power, she wasn’t angry or jealous at that thought... she wasn’t. She wished every single one of those women all the luck in world… grrr. A shelf in a nearby bookshelf collapsed, sending a row of scientific volumes thudding to the floor.
That was not her fault. Must be weakened wood.
Cara kept walking. What had she been thinking about? Oh, yes, the women fawning over Erik at the workshop… she was so not jealous. Another shelf collapsed as she went past. This wing must have wood worm or something, it was a very old library.
Ignoring the scattered books littering the carpet behind her she stormed towards the domed room. Luck… huh, if one of those artsy big-breasted women laid one grubby possessive finger on Erik she’d show them just how quickly their luck could turn on them. She came to a breathless halt next to a stone column, clutching her books to her chest. Staring wide eyed around the room at the art class students, who in turn were all looking back at her.
Yes, they were all women, and yes, up until five seconds ago before she’d disrupted the class they’d all been focused upon Erik with expressions of adoration and affection on their faces as he explained the various charcoal drawing techniques. Somehow though, Cara didn’t think any of these women were on the approved list drawn up by Erik’s mother. For one thing, not a lady present was under fifty, if she were a day.
“Cara? You okay?” Erik asked, worried by the haste with which she had appeared. Knowing her she probably had a pack of blood thirsty books chasing after her.
“Oh… yes… yes, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt the class. Marta had to leave, an emergency at home and I just wanted to check that you… that everyone, has everything they need.”
“Well, speaking for the class.” An attractive, vaguely familiar, older lady with swept back grey hair wearing an outfit of all white spoke up. Cara was pretty sure she was one of the ladies who’d accosted her in the street her first day in Haven Bay looking for fresh gossip. In fact, a lot of the ladies looked kind of familiar. “We really need someone to pour the wine.”
There was a deafening chorus of agreement. Cara looked around, noticing a table set up on the far right, laden with glasses and bottles.
“Sure, I can do that.” Cara circled the room, hurriedly putting her books down to pick up a glass, grateful to have anything to do that would keep her hands busy and her mind off how good Erik looked this evening in his worn jeans and black shirt, his hair clubbed back.
“You should have a glass yourself Sweetie.” A lady with dramatic red hair wearing swathes of jewel coloured layers told her.
“No way Aunt Daphne, Cara’s a lightweight when it comes to wine.” Erik shook his head.
“And how would you know that, you naughty boy?” Daphne enquired, smiling his way. “And call your mother, she’s still upset with you but beginning to get worried.”
“Will do Aunt Daphne. And everyone knows librarians can’t hold their liquor, it’s a law or something.” Erik minutely adjusted the bowl of fruit he’d positioned in the centre of the circle before stepping out between two of his relatives. “Time to get to work, ladies.”
“Seriously Erik.” A sturdy but not overweight dark haired lady wearing a navy dress spoke up as she picked up a piece of charcoal. “Call your mother.”
Cara, handing over another glass of wine to an elegant petite woman, with stylish short flipped up at the ends grey hair wearing a black wrap dress looked around at Erik. “You still haven’t told me what you did to upset your mother.” Damn, was the man actually blushing? Hmmm, and why did that only make the pulse between her legs expand slightly and beat more rapidly?
“Poor Lucy, embarrassed and now she’s being stalked. Your father is not particularly happy with you right at this moment young man.”
Erik couldn’t help but wince, he was a grown man, but still the thought of his father’s anger directed at him instinctively made him want to find a bolt hole to hide in and wait for the whole mess to blow over. Wait… wasn’t that what he was already doing? “What do you mean stalked?” Great-Aunt Alma’s words finally sunk in.
“That woman… that highly unsuitable floozy.” Alma visibly sniffed in faint disgust. “Has been calling Lucy night and day begging for another opportunity to meet you.”
Cara stood there confused, just what had Erik done? She thought he’d said his mother was upset but if one of the potential baby-mamas wanted a second chance… then what the hell had happened?
Erik pushed back a lock of hair from his eyes. “I spat out the woman’s food, why would she want to see me again?”
Alma’s brown eyes twinkled. “It may have had something to do with you dropping trou in front of the young lady in question Erik. I think she was mightily taken with your…” Alma’s eyes dropped down Erik’s frame as she chuffed a laugh. “… charms.”
Cara wasn’t sure whether to join in the laughter or go with the green tide of jealousy that threatened to swamp her at the thought that some strange artsy floozy had seen Erik in the altogether, some people really did have all the luck.
Erik shook his head. “There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for what happened. I’d been working in my studio for almost twenty-four hours straight, hadn’t slept for two days, in my rather sad mental state I just figured that I shouldn’t track marble dust through my house. In my defence…” The corners of his lips twisted upwards in a wicked smile. “… I did only moon them rather than give them a visual of the whole stars and planet… if you know what I mean.”
Cara found herself joining in as the ladies roared with laughter.
“Honestly, you boys.” Alma shook her head as she sipped her wine and brushed her piece of charcoal over the ca
nvas in front of her. “Hopeless… utterly hopeless sometimes.”
“Does that mean I’m unmatchable, Alma? Will you tell my mother that and get her off my back?”
Cara’s ears pricked up and she and the entire room fell silent so they could eavesdrop.
“Not unmatchable darling boy… just challenging.” Alma glanced up at Erik smiling, strange little gold lights flickering in the brown depths of her eyes. “And you know how much I love a challenge.”
Erik felt the blood draining from his head. Goddess, was he already in Great-Aunt Alma’s match-making cross hairs? Had he just poked the bear? Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? His mother’s sad little attempts he could fend off easily, but Great-Aunt ‘Sherman Tank’ Alma’s magical match-making skills would be a different story altogether.
Paranoia swept through him, just how involved had Alma been in allowing Cara to take up residence here? Sure the High Council vetted every new resident… he felt himself relax, no way though could Alma sway Aunt Patricia, and she’d been the one to offer Cara a job. No, he was imagining things, it was all just pure chance him meeting up with Cara and being… slightly attracted to her, still… he clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Less talking ladies, that bowl of fruit isn’t going to draw itself.”
Cara found herself hanging out with the art group for the rest of their session, chatting with them, re-filling empty glasses; she hoped they’d arranged rides home, not a one of them should be driving. It ended up being a fun evening for her, relaxed, listening to Erik’s relatives spill increasingly embarrassing tales of his childhood adventures.
With only twenty minutes left of the session though, something strange occurred. Several forked lightning bolts streaked across the sky, illuminating the rain splattered windows that circled the lower part of the dome. Cara didn’t think anything of it, but everyone in the room froze, staring upwards. Immediately several of the ladies hurriedly started to collect their things. Cara looked around for an explanation, noting Erik’s complexion had gone paper white as he stared up at the windows.