The inside of the truck suddenly seemed twenty degrees hotter.
Finally, Jake let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. With his other hand he placed two fingers on her chin, then turned her head so that she would have to look at him. Her lips were close, so close. He wanted to kiss her, wanted it more than anything he’d wanted in a long, long time. So why didn’t he just do it?
Because his instincts told him he’d be making a big mistake if he did. The look in her eyes said she wanted it as much as he did, but he saw a wariness there too, and it warned him off.
His grandfather had always advised him to listen to the God-given instincts he’d been born with. So far, it had been good advice. If she needed time to accept what was happening between them, he would give it to her. But it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
Reluctantly, he sat back and released her, remembering that his grandfather had also advised him to learn some patience. More good advice, and he knew that if he’d listened to the old man on that account along time ago, he wouldn’t be having such a hard time right now.
“That door sticks sometimes,” he said when he finally spoke. “I’ll open it from the outside.”
He made himself get out of the truck, go around, and open the door. The simple activity gave him the time he needed to gain control of himself. It also gave him time to make a decision: He’d find a way to be patient for a little while—but he’d be damned if he’d wait two full weeks before seeing her again.
Three
“I could put the mysteries over here.” With the tip of her pencil Cori tapped the section next to the one slated for hardcover reference. “Do you think that will work?”
In response, her cat yawned. Sleeping in the sunshine had always been one of Max’s favorite activities, and today was catnap perfect. A mild Santa Ana weather condition had brought warm breezes to Southern California, and, with it, eighty-degree temperatures. Cori had moved her project outside to take advantage of the unexpected heat wave.
“No, not enough room there. Anyway, I need to find a way to put the mysteries over here with the other genre fiction.” For several minutes she studied the detailed sketch she’d made of the layout for her bookstore, then shook her head. “This would be a whole lot easier to figure out if you wouldn’t squatdown right in the middle of the floor plan.” Gently, she nudged the cat out of the way.
Evidently insulted by her remark, Max resettled his furry frame on the far corner of the picnic table until he faced the giant oak tree, his back turned to her and her drawing.
Cori managed to ignore the insult, though her usual patience was wearing thin. She’d been working on the floor plan revisions for an hour and still hadn’t come up with a solution to her problem, which was why she was so frustrated. The carpenters were slightly behind schedule—nothing to worry about, they assured her—and planned on taking several more days to finish constructing the bookcases. But by then she had to have the layout finalized so she could start stocking the shelves with the inventory she’d been storing in her one-car garage for several weeks now.
More determined than ever to finish her project, she rapped her pencil against the edge of the wooden table and considered the possibility of squeezing gift books and art history together on one gondola. That just might solve the problem created when she’d ended up with less floor space than she’d anticipated. Next, she tried to focus her attention on the center floor displays. Instead, her mind conjured up a pair of serious blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes. She tossed down her pencil.
“Damn.”
It had been over a week since she’d last seen Jake, but his image was crystal-clear in her mind, his ability to shatter her concentration as annoying asever. Frustration getting the best of her, she propped her