“Uh hi,” I blurted, sounding as foolish as I felt. Nervous, I unconsciously rubbed the tapered end of the sleek award.
One of Jack’s brows lifted, and his gaze dropped pointedly to my hands. I glanced down at the trophy I’d been caressing—his trophy—then turned again and quickly set the award back in its place.
Spinning back to face Jack, I attempted to salvage the awkward caught-in-the-act moment by sticking my hand out.
And babbling.
“It's so nice to meet you. I’ve really been looking forward to this, and I hope you have, too, because I think this is really going to be great. Our readers will be really excited to hear what you have to say about the new book—I mean, no pressure to say anything in particular. I know how you feel about spoilers, and I’d never ask you to divulge any. Oh, I'm Bonnie Hamelin. But I guess you already know that.”
The good news was I’d managed actual speech this time. His arrival had been so sudden I hadn't had time to work upquiteas many nerves as the first time I’d seen him.
The bad news was his answering expression could have incinerated me on the spot.
He didn't take my offered hand but continued to scowl at me. “Yes, I know who you are, Ms. Hamelin,” he sneered. “You're the interviewer. Which I believe means your purpose here is to interview me, not to invade my home and...fondlemy private possessions.”
My nerves, combined with his use of the words “fondle” and “private” together made me giggle, which then made me blush in mortification.
Oh, good Lord.This wasn’t starting well. I was just grateful there was no chai latte nearby this time. The thought caused my gaze to drop involuntarily to the front of Jack’s pants.
Ididhope he’d fully recovered from the hot-tea incident. It would be such a shame if such an obviously virile man were permanently—
Jack cleared his throat loudly.
Yanking my gaze away from his crotch and withdrawing my hand, I twisted it with the fingers of my other hand and forced a smile I hoped was both apologetic and charming.
“I'm so sorry about that. I've just never seen one in person. Or one sobig.And you have so many. Awards. Not possessions. I mean, you do have some nice possessions. I was just talking about… the… award.”
Jack just kept staring, studying me as if I were a fascinating yet slightly repulsive bug. A dung beetle, perhaps.
Mrs. Potts, whose existence I’d completely forgotten in the last minute and a half, spoke up. “Jack?”
He shot her a heated side-glance then looked at me again. His scowl moderated into a more neutral expression. “Well?”
“Oh—it’s… very beautiful. And heavy.”
The scowl returned. “I wasn't fishing for compliments about my award. Are you by any chance ready to begin theinterview?”
“The interview. Yes. Absolutely. I'm ready. Let's do it.”
He shook his head as if giving up on something. “Fine. Let's get this over with.”
Jack turned and walked away. I glanced over at Mrs. Potts, confused. Did he want me to follow him? She gave me a smile and a nod indicating that I should.
“Have a lovely chat, you two,” she called after us.
Jack’s sneakers made no sound, emphasizing the rapid clicks of my high heels on the hard floor as I trotted to keep up with his long stride.
At the far end of the foyer, he stepped through a tall, wooden door. I stepped through after him but then stopped stock still and stared, fighting for breath.
We were standing in the most magnificent library I’d ever seen in my life. The shelves—all filled—stretched from the beautiful wooden floors to the ceiling. The very, very high ceiling.
A tall track-ladder of the variety I’d only ever seen in movies explained how someone would retrieve a book from the higher shelves. But how would one ever choose? There had to have been thousands of books lining the walls of this incredible room.
As a lifelong bookworm, I felt like I was standing in an amusement park created specifically for me.
“Wow,” I finally said in an awed whisper.
Jack turned around and faced me. He stood in the center of the room near a large antique desk, looking bored and impatient.
