by Cathie Linz
The grin he shot her way made her pause, which in turn gave him time to catch up with her. After that, she focused on the job at hand. They passed the time exchanging quips as David’s boom box played a shuffle of hits from the eighties, running the gamut from Kenny Loggins to David Bowie to Cyndi Lauper.
Anastasia had finished her designated wall and was using a brush to do the edges while bopping to “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” when she inadvertently splattered her brush during one particularly enthusiastic dance step. Unfortunately she splattered it in David’s direction, scoring a direct hit on the right shoulder of his white T-shirt.
Putting her hand to her mouth, she said, “Oops.”
“Oops doesn’t cut it,” he growled with pretend menace. “This was the last clean T-shirt I had left since I started this project. I’ll show you oops.” He advanced toward her like a man bent on revenge.
She hastily retreated like a woman bent on not getting caught. “Okay, now,” she said in a placating voice, “let’s think about this before you do something you might regret.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have any regrets. You might, though.”
“It was an accident, I swear.” She held her free hand to her chest as she made the vow. Then she added, “If I’d really been trying to hit you, I would have done a better job of it.”
“Like this, you mean?” He zapped her, splattering blue paint in the middle of the orange cropped top she wore beneath her overalls.
“Hey, two can play at that game, buddy!” This time she was the one who advanced, while he retreated.
“I think we should be adults and call it even now.”
“Easy for you to say.” Using her brush the way a fencer would use a rapier, she put her left hand in the air à la Errol Flynn. “En garde!”
He was so busy laughing that she easily got in a swipe on his bare arm.
That caught his attention. “Now you’ve done it.”
The next thing she knew, he’d grabbed her in his arms. Her laughter ceased when, in her teasing struggle to get free, her lips came within millimeters of his.
Lowering his head, he covered her mouth with his own. There was none of the tentativeness that normally went with a first kiss. Instead there was a sultry rightness about it all—from the taste of him to the erotic way he teasingly caught her bottom lip between his teeth.
The kiss was long and lingering. Anastasia was stunned by the passion he evoked within her. Did he know that? Could he feel it, too?
Her hands rested on his chest, put there originally to prevent him from splattering paint on her, but now…now she clenched her fingers into the softness of his white T-shirt with catlike pleasure. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm.
So she wasn’t the only one affected. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun. She wondered why David had pushed her away, before realizing they weren’t alone any longer. The heating contractor and his assistant had returned from their lunch break and were tromping through on their way to the basement.
Trying to keep her equilibrium despite the fact that she was shaken, Anastasia shot David a brilliant smile as she said, “Nice try at distracting me, but I’m still a better painter than you are.”
“You’re not a bad kisser, either.”
“Thanks.” Her voice shook. The kiss made her look at him in a new way, a way that made her feel less in control of the situation. And that was something she couldn’t cope with at the moment, so she picked up her paintbrush and got back to work, adding a flippant, “But flattery will get you nowhere.”
David kissing her until her kneecaps melted, however, could get her in big trouble. And she knew it. She was afraid that now he knew it, too.
DAVID WASN’T SURE what prompted him to drop by the library where Anastasia was employed. But then he hadn’t been himself all day. That kiss they’d shared yesterday had thrown him for a loop. Who could have known that she could kiss like that? Was it her way of distracting him from his mission of discovering what she was really up to?
What if she wasn’t up to anything? That thought had started to cross his mind a time or two lately.
Maybe she was just naive, enthusiastic and impractical? Maybe she wasn’t conning his grandmother. But that didn’t mean that she was the woman for him. He stopped himself. Where had that thought come from? He and Anastasia were much too different Maybe seeing her in her own environment would give him some perspective. The particular branch of the Chicago Public Library where she worked was located in what looked more like a storefront than a library. He had no trouble finding the children’s section, he just followed the reading-rainbow mural on the wall until he reached the Munchkin-size table and chairs.
He had no trouble spotting Anastasia. She was in the middle of a crowd of twenty-five preschoolers. Today her long brown hair was in a single braid down her back. She was wearing a denim jumper over a red T-shirt and she was reading the kids a funny book about a frog who, when kissed by a prince, turned into a beautiful librarian.
Of course that got him thinking about the incredible kiss he’d shared with Anastasia, and a good five minutes went by before he came back to earth. By then, Anastasia had gone on to another story. In her hands were a series of large laminated drawings as she spun the tale of a trio of fairy godmothers who wished they had bigger wings.
“Henrietta, Betina and Maria love to laugh. Can you laugh?” Anastasia asked the kids.
They did, with varying enthusiasm.
“They also love ice cream. Do you love ice cream?”
Most shouted their enthusiasm, but one little girl disdainfully said, “It’s fattening.”
“Not to fairy godmothers, Mitsy,” Anastasia replied, not missing a beat. “But today our godmothers have a job to do. They need to help Princess Sarah find her lost kitten. Can you find the kitten in this picture?”
Several kids came forward to point to the corner of the illustration.
“Kittens scratch people and couches.” This from Mitsy.
“Since fairy godmothers can fly,” Anastasia continued, “they checked the treetops first. Maybe the kitten had climbed a tree. Can you point to the tree in this picture?”
“Trees have bugs.” Mitsy shuddered.
Anastasia didn’t miss a beat. “They saw lots of birds, but no kitten. So they asked Robbie the Robin if he had seen the kitten.”
“Birds poop on cars,” Mitsy said.
David was tempted to tell the kid to lighten up, but Anastasia appeared to be used to the child’s gloomy comments.
“The fairy godmothers were getting worried. How do you look when you’re worried?” The group made faces, wrinkling their noses and foreheads. The little complainer didn’t have to do anything, her perpetual expression was already pretty close to a frown.
When Anastasia smiled encouragingly at one of the kids, David was momentarily distracted by the curve of Anastasia’s mouth and the memory of their kiss. Where had she learned to kiss like that? Not from any book, that’s for sure. Which meant what? That she had a lot of experience? Or she just had great natural talent?
Frowning, he tried to focus on her words instead of her luscious mouth.
“Then they used their magic wands to part the leaves from the trees,” she was saying. “They made the wind blow.”
“Leaves are messy,” Mitsy said with a sniff.
“And on the tallest tree, hiding beneath the leaves, was the little kitten Smitten. Now Smitten was afraid to come down from that tree. So do you know what the fairy godmothers did?”
“Shoot her?” suggested one redheaded boy with bloodthirsty glee.
“No, of course not!” Anastasia gave him a reprimanding look. “That would hurt the kitten and you don’t ever want to hurt a kitten or shoot at anything.”
“They used magic,” a little boy said around the thumb stuck halfway in his mouth.
“That’s right, Bobby! They used their magic wands to bring the kitten down from the tree and back to
Princess Sarah. The fairy godmothers who thought they were so strange because they had little wings were now heroes. The princess was so happy to have her kitten back that do you know what she gave the fairy godmothers?”
“Lotsa money?” the bloodthirsty little redheaded kid suggested.
“She gave them a day off,” David offered.
Anastasia looked surprised to see him as he stepped out from behind the reading tree that had partially hidden him from view. But she continued with her story. “She gave them the gift of laughter and confidence.”
“If she laughs like you, it’s not a bad gift,” he said huskily.
“Oh, yuck, they’re gonna get mushy and kissyfaced,” the redhead terror exclaimed.
“No, we’re not,” Anastasia said in what David assumed was her librarian’s voice. “I’ll be with you in a minute, David.” First she completed the rest of her story routine with a hand puppet named Miss Mouse, and only when the preschoolers were returned to their parents did she return her attention to David. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d drop by and see what you do for a living. Singing and telling stories. Not a bad gig.”
“It is a good gig, but I do a lot more than sing and read stories. I also work at the reference desk, answering kids’ questions, like what animals live in South America, for example, and I recommend books for them to read for fun. I also make administrative decisions, come up with new programs and projects. You have to really like kids for this job,” she said ruefully, “it’s not something you can learn.”
The thought of her and kids made him wonder what kind of mom she’d be. Don’t think about that, his bachelor inner voice warned him. Dangerous territory.
“So what animals live in South America?” he inquired.
“Capuchin, howler, and woolly monkeys, also vicuna, the anaconda snake. I only know that because I got seven questions in a row on this topic yesterday. I also had a fourth-grader who wanted a photograph of a dinosaur and was most upset when I couldn’t produce one.”
“Have him contact Steven Spielberg.”
“Right.” She straightened her stack of poster board-size illustrations.
“What book are these from?”
“They’re not from a book. I drew them myself.”
“They’re not bad,” he noted in surprise. “Not that I’m any expert on this stuff or anything.”
“Thanks.” A moment later, Anastasia had to excuse herself to help a mother looking for a book for her son to read. As Anastasia went to her desk to type something on the computer keyboard, David was struck by how…professional she seemed. He used computers at times, but he never felt comfortable doing it. She looked perfectly at ease.
Here at the library she didn’t seem ditzy or crazy or intent on driving him nuts with her sexy smile and teasing laughter. Here she seemed like a brainy woman, the type he’d avoided in the past.
He was willing to admit he may have been off base about her trying to con his grandmother. But that didn’t change the fact that she was a classy librarian while he was a burnt-out arson investigator going through an identity crisis.
When she returned to his side, he said, “Have you noticed that we don’t have a lot in common?”
“Where did that come from?” she said, sounding surprised.
He shrugged. “You’re a classy librarian who likes symphonies and ballet. I’m a regular working stiff who likes baseball and the Three Stooges.”
“Do you prefer Shemp or Curly?” she stunned him by asking.
“Curly.”
“Soitenly,” she said, mimicking the comics’ routine. “And how many comics were actually part of the Three Stooges?”
“Six. What’s Larry’s surname?” he shot back.
“Fine. Larry Fine.”
“Right” His look reflected how impressed he was. “You’re good.”
“So I’ve been trying to tell you,” she retorted with a saucy grin.
Shaking his head, he admitted, “I’ve never met a woman who liked the Three Stooges.”
“Ah, but then you’ve never met a woman like me.”
“I’m starting to think you may be right about that,” he murmured.
“I’m always right,” she noted with an irreverent grin.
“I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND that I’ve invited David to come with us to the flea market today,” Claire said to Anastasia the following afternoon.
“No, I don’t mind.” It was the first Saturday in September and they were driving out to the Kane Country Flea Market in St. Charles, about ninety minutes southwest of Chicago, to look for more fixtures for the ice-cream parlor.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. I’m also glad to see that you were as good as your word and you managed to turn David around and teach him how to have fun. Have you noticed how much more relaxed he seems?”
Anastasia nodded. She’d noticed plenty about David. She’d seen how good he was with his grandmother. She’d been wrong about that. She’d seen how he had a solid core of responsibility. When he said he’d do something, he did it.
The guys she’d been dating were fun-loving but irresponsible. She was starting to think there might be something to be said for a guy who actually did what he said he would, a guy who kissed like there was no tomorrow, a guy with incredible blue eyes and a golden-gruff voice.
“You two ready to go?”
His voice startled her. The jeans and sunshine-yellow Indian cotton shirt she was wearing had seemed fine when it was just her and Claire, but now she worried about how she looked in David’s eyes. Not a good sign, she warned herself. You don’t want some guy telling you how to dress.
As David drove his Blazer south on Interstate 294 to Interstate 88, Anastasia kept the conversation casual and breezy. Claire had insisted on sitting in the back seat. If Anastasia hadn’t known her better, she would have suspected that Claire was trying to matchmake. Surely not. Claire knew how much Anastasia valued her independence.
Anastasia decided the day was too beautiful to worry about anything. The farther west they went, the farther away from the city and its pollutants, the more intense the blue sky became.
The flea market took place on the Kane County Fairgrounds. Outside the entrance gates, farmers from Michigan and Wisconsin were selling bags of freshpicked apples and apple cider. Inside the fairgrounds, row upon row of vendors were selling everything from factory-direct down comforters to stained-glass windows.
The indoor vendors were located in tin-roofed buildings with signs labeling them as Sheep 1965 or Pigs 1960. The animal stalls had been turned into individual booths, one displaying chinaware, the next containing bolts of material, the next selling shelves of Christmas crafts. Other vendors displayed cases of old jewelry and a large assortment of furniture, both handmade and restored.
Anastasia was the designated navigator. “I heard there’s a dealer out here who might have a mirrored back bar,” she said. “Something like that would look beautiful on the wall behind the marble counter.”
They made a few stops along the way. Anastasia couldn’t resist buying a fennel cake hot off the griddle. David looked as if he couldn’t resist the dusting of powdered sugar that clung to her lips, but the only thing he indulged in buying was a Three Stooges poster.
Once he had his find safely in hand, David told her, “Most women don’t get the Three Stooges’ humor.”
Anastasia socked his arm. “That’s a sexist thing to say. My brother Ryan introduced me to the Three Stooges when we were kids, but my brother Jason didn’t get it. He still doesn’t.”
“Is he older than you are?”
“Only by a few minutes, not that you’d ever know that by the way he tried to boss Ryan and I around when we were kids. We were actually all born the same year and day.”
“And you managed that by…?”
“Being triplets.”
Her reply stopped him in his tracks. “Triplets?”
“That’s right. My parents had be
en trying to have kids for a while with no luck. Then they went to a fertility specialist and, as my dad puts it, it worked. The only tough part was growing up with one bathroom and two brothers who hogged it.”
In his investigation of her background, he’d noticed that she had two brothers, but hadn’t paid attention to their ages or birth dates. He had noted that one worked for the U.S. Attorney’s office in Chicago and the other was a deputy U.S. marshal, so apparently larceny hadn’t run in the family. He no longer really believed it ran in Anastasia, either. She was too blunt to con anyone. That didn’t mean that he thought she was a good influence on his grandmother, though.
She might not be a swindler, but she was a dreamer and David knew firsthand how harmful that could be. He wasn’t ready to give his stamp of approval to Anastasia or this project. True his grandmother seemed to have done her financial homework, but the icecream parlor was still an economic risk. And he had no idea what wild idea Anastasia might come up with next.
When they found the booth they’d been looking for, David observed that Anastasia let his grandmother make up her own mind about buying the mirrored-bar thingamajig. He could tell that Claire wanted it. The thing really was huge. He doubted it would even fit in his Blazer, but the dealer said he delivered.
As David took a closer look at the Victorian piece, he figured that it would indeed fill that back wall in the storefront nicely. And the workmanship was good. They didn’t make things like this anymore. He then proceeded to bargain with the dealer for a good price, including free delivery.
As the dealer wrote up the order, David finally registered Anastasia and Claire’s surprised looks, and said, “What? If you’re going to be in business, you might as well get the best price. It’s not like money grows on trees, you know.”