by Olivia Dade
She held out her hand to him, and he shook it absently. He was still staring at his mother, who squirmed under his suspicious scrutiny.
Brenda broke. “I might have . . . possibly . . . signed both of us up for the event tonight.”
“What?”
“And we were so grateful,” Angie rushed to say. “I told your mom that we had too many women and not enough men. And she said you wouldn’t mind helping out.”
“Did she?” He narrowed his eyes at Brenda.
His mom drew him aside, whispering into his ear. “I knew you’d be lonely while Casey was at her mother’s house. And I was nervous, honey. I thought I’d feel better if you were here with me. Safer.”
She didn’t look nervous. He’d seen her anxiety before, and it usually didn’t manifest itself in bright eyes and an overly innocent smile.
He turned to Angie. “I’m sorry,” he lied. “I’m only here to drive Mom to and from this event.”
The librarian’s face fell. “But we specifically set up the evening for an equal number of men and women. If you cancel, there will be a woman left alone the entire night. By herself. On New Year’s Eve. Watching everyone else have fun. Thinking no one wants her.”
Each phrase fell like a blow to his conscience. Fuck.
Brenda tugged on his arm, giving him a pleading look. “Please, Jack,” she said. “Do it for me. And for the poor, lonely woman who won’t have anyone to talk to if you cancel.”
He looked around the library, considering his options. God, he wanted to get back in his car and drive home. But if he stayed, he could keep a close eye on his mother. She was already edging toward the white-haired man, fluffing her hair with a few flicks of her wrist. And what were the chances that anyone would recognize him? Slim, really.
“All right,” he told the two women. “I’m in.”
Angie grinned at him. Brenda acknowledged his words with a wave of her hand, but said nothing. She was halfway across the library, making a beeline for the older man.
“What do you know about him?” he quietly asked the librarian.
“Carl? He’s a widower. Smart. Very polite. He comes in with his children and grandchildren sometimes.” Angie looked thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, he and your mother would make a great couple.”
Jack nodded his thanks, heading toward an armchair with a good view of the whole library. It appeared he had—he checked his watch—half an hour before the festivities began. In the meantime, he planned to keep a close eye on Brenda, while keeping himself inconspicuous.
Shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, it was an event at the library. How wild could it get?
2
“Holy shit,” Penny whispered in the workroom, surveying Angie’s plans for the event. “How did you get the Board to approve these games?”
She’d arrived moments before through the employee entrance that led to the workroom. Stomping the snow from her flats—she’d refused to wear heels, no matter how much Angie wanted her to dress up—and removing her parka, she’d mentally prepared herself for the upcoming evening. It’s a library event, she’d told herself. How wild can it get?
Apparently, when Angie was involved, pretty fucking wild.
“The Board may not have known every detail,” Angie admitted. “But everyone is over twenty-one, and they all signed waivers acknowledging that this was an adult-themed event.”
Penny looked at the first game. “They’re reading love scenes from different books? How did you choose the passages?”
“When I talked to each person signing up, I had them pick a favorite page or two. Most of them are pretty innocent.”
Penny looked at a book in the middle of the pile. “Like An Erotic Treasury 2: Tales of Submission? Is that one of the innocent books you’re referring to?”
“Actually, that’s mine.” Angie grabbed the book. “Reading material for the hospital.”
“I don’t know whether I feel relieved or even more horrified.”
“Feel turned on,” her friend said. “I know I will.”
“Okay, so reading love scenes comes first. Then speed dating.”
“Yeah. I printed out a list of questions for them to ask each other in the four minutes they have together. About their favorite books, where they like to read, and so on. Mostly library-related stuff.”
Penny glanced at the questions. “How is asking about the most unusual place they’ve ever made love library-related?” She wrinkled her nose. “Wait. If their answers are library-related, I really don’t want to know. I’m still scarred by that couple I saw on top of the stuffed giraffe in the kids’ section.”
“We should have burned that damn giraffe.”
“Agreed. And then we’re matching book covers to their titles?” Penny looked at another stack of books, this one with the titles covered by strategically cut pieces of paper. “Most of these books are from the erotica display you took down.”
“Not all.” Angie paused. “But most of them, yes.”
Penny read further down the event itinerary. “A scavenger hunt . . . posing together like book covers . . . champagne toast . . .” She sighed. “This sounds like it’s going to be a long evening. But at least the other activities don’t sound too objectionable.”
“Ummm . . . no. Not objectionable at all.” Angie grabbed her coat and headed for the door to the employee parking lot. “Everything is set up for each activity, and the itinerary should be pretty clear. Everyone who didn’t cancel has arrived, except for one woman. By the way, you might want to pay special attention to Brenda’s son. He seems . . .” She hesitated in the entrance. “. . . like he might need you.”
“Huh?” Penny asked, confused. “What does that mean?”
Her friend opened the door, calling over her shoulder, “You’ll see. And you might have to fill in for the missing woman. Bye!”
“What the—” Penny began, but the door slammed behind Angie.
She ran to the door and opened it. “What do you mean, I might have to fill in for the missing woman?” she yelled.
Angie had already started her engine, and merely gave her a jaunty wave before driving off through the snow.
Taking the itinerary in hand, Penny trudged out to the public section of the library. The “CLOSED” sign hung on the library door, and the lights were turned low. She had to admit, the building looked good with the flowers, the intimately arranged seats, and the trays of elegant snacks. Romantic. More alluring than she’d ever imagined the library could be.
About twenty people wandered through the main room, obviously waiting for the event to begin. Some were already chatting, like Brenda and Carl. Others sat nervously perched on chairs or lurked near the stacks, sneaking glances at the other participants. They all looked immaculately turned out, making Penny grateful for Angie’s directive to dress nicely. Her green sheath dress and sparkly earrings wouldn’t look out of place here.
Actually, that was a lie. Not everyone was immaculately dressed. There was one man sitting in a chair off by himself in the far corner of the room, half-hidden in shadows. From what she could see, he’d chosen to wear jeans and boots, as well as some kind of dark sweater. She searched her memory. Had she ever seen him before in the library? Squinting, she tried to take in more details, see his face more clearly.
Short, dark hair. Strong features. Stubble on his firm jaw. Medium height, although it was hard to tell for sure while he was seated. Athletic-looking. Strong but not bulky. He appeared to be about her age, in his mid-thirties.
Even from a distance, the man radiated a sort of quiet power. He sat perfectly still, every muscle under control. The foot he’d propped over his other knee didn’t wiggle. The long fingers resting on the arms of the chair didn’t tap. His eyes stayed glued to Brenda. Was he her son?
Penny knew one thing for sure. If he was Brenda’s son, he didn’t need Penny for anything, despite what Angie had said. Not a single thing. This man could take care of himself—and if he couldn�
��t, more than a few ladies would be delighted to do it for him. Even as she watched, several women approached his chair. He gave them each a polite nod and a word or two, but nothing more. Eventually, they drifted away in disappointment.
Honestly, he didn’t seem the sort to come to a singles’ event at the library. He was too . . . aloof. Too self-contained.
As if sensing her scrutiny, the man looked her way. Their eyes met, and she felt an odd shiver chase down her spine. He didn’t nod. Didn’t acknowledge her in any way. He simply looked for a long moment, his face like stone.
She couldn’t move. His features . . . they looked familiar. Almost as if she knew him. But surely she’d have remembered meeting a man like him at the library. Anywhere, actually.
A tap on her arm made her jump.
“Excuse me?” asked a middle-aged man wearing a tie with little party hats printed on it. “When does the event start?”
She tore her gaze away from the man in the shadows, turning to face the partygoer beside her. Immediately, a tidal wave of cologne assaulted her nose, and she stifled a sneeze.
“Soon,” she said, and sneezed again.
He looked mortified. Edging closer, he whispered, “Is it my cologne? I haven’t worn any in years, not since before I got married.” Seeing her confused glance down at his ring finger, he sighed. “We got divorced early this year. I’m trying to get back out there.”
“I’m sorry . . . to hear that,” she choked out between sneezes. “Maybe you used . . . a bit . . . too much . . . cologne.”
He handed her a tissue and headed for the men’s room.
Wiping her streaming eyes—so much for her eye makeup—she turned to face the crowd. “Welcome to the Battlefield Library, a branch of the Nice County Public Library,” she called out. “This is our first annual New Year’s Eve singles event, and we’re so excited you chose to attend.”
Everyone began to gather in a loose circle around her. Everyone except the man in the chair, who continued to watch her silently. It made her nervous. In fact, everything about this whole night made her nervous.
She decided to read directly from Angie’s notes on the itinerary. “My name is An—I mean, Penelope Callahan. I’ll be hosting tonight’s activities. In about five minutes, we’ll be starting our first game. We have events planned throughout the evening. The early ones will introduce you to each other and give you a sense of what everyone is looking for in a date or partner. The activities later in the evening will allow for more one-on-one time with anyone you find interesting. At midnight, we’ll have a champagne toast to celebrate the New Year.”
The crowd looked nervous but excited. “Just relax,” Penny told them, exactly as Angie had directed in her notes. “You’re among friends. You’re all here because you love books and would like to meet other people. I hope you find true love tonight.” She forced a smile. “But even if you don’t, I hope you find a friend. Throughout the evening, if there’s anything you need, let me know.”
Did I manage to fake it convincingly enough? she wondered. Because no way in hell is anyone leaving here tonight with true love. Maybe a true lay, but that’s about it. And for most of these people, not even that. Just some awkward conversation and a lonely bed waiting at home.
Stifling a sigh, she turned to the itinerary. Randomly assigned couples were supposed to read love scenes to each other. Angie had already placed all the names in two hats, one for men and one for women. She glanced at the sign-up list, checking the numbers. There was one extra woman, which confused her. If that was the case, why had Angie said she might need to participate? They needed another guy, not another woman.
A tap on her arm. “Better?” the man with the cologne issues asked. She cautiously sniffed, and then took a deep, relieved breath.
“Much better,” she told him.
“Good. Where do you want me?”
She pointed him toward the circle of chairs Angie had set up earlier in the day. Following his lead, the other singles also settled into the seats.
“Excuse me?” she heard. She turned to see a tall brunette in a short skirt. “I’m Yolanda. I don’t know if Angie told you, but my name doesn’t go in the hat. I’m gay. Angie said she’d invited someone with me in mind.”
“Angie didn’t—” Penny began.
“That would be me,” another woman said, her curls surrounding her head in a dark halo. “I’m Tasha.” Yolanda smiled at her, and the couple walked off together to find adjacent chairs.
Penny looked back at the sign-up list, making a notation beside the two women’s names. She counted. She recounted. Shit. Angie had been right. To make the numbers even, she’d have to participate, at least in this activity.
The silence suddenly caught her attention. All of the attendees had seated themselves in the chairs, including the man in the shadows. He sat next to Brenda, his eyes once again on the older woman and her conversation with Carl. From close range, she could now see that she hadn’t been mistaken. He didn’t belong here. If the sheer amount of testosterone he exuded hadn’t told her, the resigned look on his face would have. Unless she missed her guess, Brenda had forced him to come. As Penny watched, she saw the older woman give him a consoling pat on his knee.
All right. Enough gawking at the man. Time to get this party started. God help us all.
“As you know, the weather tonight did not cooperate with our plans.” Penny tilted her head toward the library windows, indicating the snow still heavily falling. “Quite a few people canceled, and we’re one woman short.”
“But there’s an extra woman,” protested a young man with a red tie.
“Lesbians,” Yolanda and Tasha announced in unison.
“Oh.” Red Tie subsided back into his chair.
“So . . .” Penny closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering strength. “It seems I’ll be participating in at least this first game.”
Cologne Guy visibly perked up at that news, and she suppressed a wince.
“All of your names, except for theirs”—she nodded toward the happy female twosome, who had already moved so close that their shoulders were touching—“are in a male or female hat. I’ll draw names to assign you randomly into pairs for this game. Each of you picked a favorite love scene, and you’re going to read them together in your pairs after introducing yourselves.”
Red Tie’s mouth opened.
“You won’t need to stay in these pairs for the other games, unless you want to,” she added, knowing what was coming.
His mouth closed again.
She glanced down at Angie’s notes. Read this next sentence exactly as written, her friend had ordered, underlining the demand twice. “You should listen closely to the scene each person has chosen, because it will illustrate something about what he or she is looking for in love and . . . lust.” I am going to fucking kill Angie, good friend or not.
At that, the crowd sat a little straighter, a certain gleam appearing in the eyes of many. The mysterious man—she squinted at his name tag—Jack was not one of them. Instead, he was now glaring at Penny. But it wasn’t my idea, she wanted to protest. I don’t even want to be here!
He ignored her telepathic message, turning away with a look of disgust.
“And now,” she said, pulling her first name out of the men’s hat. “Let’s begin.”
3
The librarian—Penelope, if he remembered correctly—stared at the tall, skinny man to Jack’s right. The man had almost finished reading his love scene with his partner, whose eyes had grown almost as wide as Penelope’s over the past few minutes. Not quite, though. He hadn’t seen such a big pair of brown eyes since . . . ever, actually. And certainly never ones filled with such consternation.
“—beneath him, her legs limp with ecstasy. The dread pirate Rafael took Chastity’s chin firmly in his hand, asking, ‘Do you now admit that you are completely mine, forever?’ ” The man next to Jack read with commendable, if misguided, enthusiasm.
His partner in
the game, a middle-aged woman dressed in a conservative black dress, appeared to take a moment to gather herself before reading her part. “ ‘Yes, my virile pirate master,’ she replied, her voice hushed and filled with awe at his prowess. She could smell his enticing scent: sandalwood, musk, and man. It was a scent she couldn’t resist. A scent that made her loins throb even now, after having been satisfied so thoroughly. So powerfully. ‘I will belong to you forever, body and soul. Let us make beautiful pirate babies.’ ” By the end of her section, the poor woman could barely speak. She trailed into silence, her shoulders hunched.
“That’s the end of the scene,” the skinny man announced. A look of profound relief crossed his partner’s face, and she slumped in her chair.
“So, Clarence,” Penelope ventured, “why . . . why did you pick this scene?” It was the same question she’d asked after each team finished. This time, though, it seemed to stick in her throat, reluctant to emerge.
“Well, I may not have a peg leg, but I own a pirate costume, including an eye patch.” Clarence waggled his brows. “And when I have a woman over, I like to put it on and shiver her timb—”
“Okay, I think we’ve got it,” the librarian interrupted.
“Have her walk my wooden plank, if you know what—”
“Thank you, Clarence,” she said firmly. “Now we need to move on to the next pair.”
Jack braced himself. Only he and the guy across the circle with the red tie hadn’t yet been matched with a partner, along with the librarian and a scantily clad woman in her early twenties. If Casey ever tries to dress like that for a date, I’m not letting her leave the house, he thought. Thank God she’s only four. I still have years to find a nunnery with a decent pre-med program.
Red Tie had been eyeing Skintight Dress for the past forty-five minutes. Jack sincerely hoped the two would be matched. Then he and the librarian could each bow out, since neither one of them had planned on participating in this insane exercise. Jack could swear that she too found the game horrifying, despite the poker face she was trying to maintain. But how could that be? Hadn’t she planned the whole goddamn evening?