N. Walters - By the Book

Amanda nodded. The motion sent a profusion of cinnamon-colored curls bobbing up and down. Her hair hung halfway down her back and was pulled back in a terrycloth wrap of some sort. What did his sister call it? Oh yeah, a scrunchie. Jonah wanted to strip the holder away and watch her curls bob around her face.

Swearing under his breath, he got a grip on himself. Concentrate. “What about the rest of them?”

Her moss-green eyes were cool as she turned back to him. “That remains to be seen.

In this box, most of the books are worth five or ten bucks apiece, but this one…” she picked up the book in question, “…this one is a gem.”

Amanda pushed to her feet. She was standing so close to him, he could smell her—a combination of lemon cleaner and dust from where she’d been working—but underlying it all was the alluring scent of woman and lavender soap.

The top of her head rose to just past his chin, putting her at about five-foot-six. She reached out and grabbed another box, the movement pulling her sweater tight against her and accentuating her curves. No doubt about it, Amanda had some sweet curves. Her breasts would be a handful, no more, no less, but they appeared to be firm and ripe.

His hands fisted at his sides as he wondered what color her nipples were. Pink or beige? Jonah took one look at her hair and grinned. He’d bet on pink, verging toward red.

“It will take me a few days to go through all the boxes and work up a list for you.”

Amanda was sitting on a box next to Elizabeth, a receipt book in her hand. “Do you know how many books you have?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I just packed them in the boxes.”

“That’s okay, we can count them and I’ll give you a receipt. In a few days, I’ll have a complete list of the books and what price I will be asking for them. As I said on the phone, I take a commission on every book I sell.”

“That’s fine. Whatever I can get for them.” Jonah wanted to shake his sister. She was asking to get taken advantage of.

“We’ll look at the list and review your commission before my sister agrees to anything.” He had to speak up before Elizabeth just gave Amanda the damn books.

Amanda’s back stiffened, but her expression remained friendly, if slightly aloof.

“That’s fine. I can also provide you with references from past customers if you’d like.”

“That would be—”

“Jonah.” His sister cut him off abruptly as she jumped to her feet. She turned to Amanda. “I’m terribly sorry about that. Jonah tends to be a bit overprotective. I trust you to be honest with the boxes I’ve brought. With just the first box you went through, I’ll get more than I even imagined I would for the lot of them.”

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth. I understand completely. You’ve been through a hard time and he is your brother.” Amanda turned away and quickly began opening boxes. In a swift, methodical fashion, she counted books, not seeming to pay any attention to their titles. When she was done, she wrote up the receipt. “You’ve got two-hundred-and-fifty-seven books.” Ripping the paper away from her receipt pad, she handed it to Elizabeth.

Going to one of her own boxes in the corner, Amanda yanked open the flaps and dug inside. She muttered to herself as she rummaged around. He sensed her triumph as she pulled out a small wooden box. Opening it, she took out a business card, flipped it over and wrote on the back. Her movements were stiff as she walked up to him and handed him the card.

The name of her business, By the Book, was embossed in gold on the front of the card. Below it her name and profession was listed, along with her Jamesville address as well as her website and email addresses. Jonah flipped it over. On the back were several names and numbers.

“Those are former clients,” she informed him before he could ask. “Feel free to call them.”

Turning her back on him, Amanda focused on Elizabeth. Jonah wanted to grab her by the shoulders, turn her around and pull her into his arms. Then he wanted to kiss her until she lost that uptight expression. He wanted to see her smile at him again or look at him with the slightly unfocused and dreamy gaze she’d greeted him with when she’d first opened the door of her home. Anything but the cold shoulder he was currently receiving.

It was definitely past time to go if he was starting to worry about what any woman thought of him, let alone one he’d just met. “Time to go, Elizabeth.”

His sister’s face paled and her shoulders slumped inward. “I’m sorry. I know this is taking up your time.”

Now he felt like a jerk. His sister had been through a rough time with her abusive, jerk of a husband. She needed support and time, not him growling at her. “I don’t mind the time.” He kept his voice gentle, his tone level. “I just think that Ms. Barrington has a lot of work to do and we’re keeping her from it.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Amanda glared at him and he wanted to rub his finger over the frown line that formed between her brows.

“I’ll contact you in a few days and maybe you’ll come and check out the store when I get it open.” The last was addressed to his sister, he noted, not to him.

“You’re planning on opening a store? I thought you did all your work online?” He could tell she wanted to ignore him, but good manners forced her to reply. Strangely enough, he was interested in her plans.

“Most of my work will continue to be through my online store, of course. My customer base is varied and spread across the country and around the world. This building is zoned for business as well as residential, so I thought I’d open the front room as a small shop for a few hours a week. Tuesday through Saturday in the afternoons to attract some local and tourist traffic for those books that aren’t worth the time or the effort to list on my website.” She picked up one of the books she’d unloaded from Elizabeth’s boxes. “Like this one. It’s worth about ten dollars resale, hardly worth putting online, but it should sell quickly locally.”

He found himself admiring her business sense in spite of his resolve to remain skeptical about her. She had a sharp tongue that he found strangely appealing, although he could think of much better uses for it than verbally challenging him. He could easily picture that tongue sliding over his dick just before her mouth opened around the tip and sucked him inside.

His jeans tightened and he shifted his stance. It didn’t help. His cock was more than willing to accommodate anything he had in mind for the pretty Ms. Amanda. Every cell in his body was on alert and the skin on the back of his neck tingled.

That was not a good sign. More than once over the years, that small sign had been enough of a warning to save him and his buddies from disaster. It usually occurred just before everything went to hell in a handbasket. All his years in the Special Forces had given him a respect and trust for that little neck tingle. And right now it was telling him that Amanda Barrington was trouble. What kind of trouble remained to be seen.

Whether he wanted to or not, he’d keep an eye on her until her business with Elizabeth was settled. Not that it would be any hardship, but it might get downright uncomfortable. His balls tightened in agreement.

“Are you ready, Elizabeth?” He inclined his head toward Amanda as he pocketed her business card. He’d definitely check into her past and her business.

“I’m ready.” Elizabeth turned to Amanda. “Thank you for doing this. I know you’re not quite ready for customers yet. But when Alicia mentioned you to me, it was too perfect an opportunity for me to pass up.”

He hadn’t known that Alicia Flint, Elizabeth’s divorce lawyer, had recommended Amanda. He’d have to ask his sister about that. Or maybe he’d talk to Alicia.

“It’s really no problem.” Amanda’s easy smile sent Jonah’s blood pressure skyrocketing. Objectively, she was cute, even a little average in looks. But his body didn’t seem to care. There was something about Amanda that called to him on the most basic of levels.

They all walked to the door and Amanda said goodbye to them. As Jonah pulled his truck away from the curb, he couldn’t resist glancing in his rearview mirror. Amanda was still standing in the doorway watching them leave.

Whoever had said that owning a home was easy had obviously never owned one. Not that she didn’t love her new house, because she did. Amanda loved the fact that it had stood for a hundred years. It had history. It was the same thing that she loved about the antiquarian book business—the sense of history, of connection with the past.

She loved the thick moldings in every room and the hand-carved newel post at the bottom of the stairs. She absolutely adored the scuffed hardwood floors and the large slab of oak that acted as a mantelpiece over the tiny stone fireplace in the living room.

Sure, it all needed work and a little tender loving care, but that was fine by her. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. Was looking forward to it. She’d even stopped by the hardware store and picked up some paint chips the day before. There were so many colors to choose from.

No, the fact that it needed some work wasn’t the problem. She loved her new home.

What she didn’t like was the finicky electrical system.

Amanda grabbed her flashlight and opened the door to the basement. Holding tight to the railing, she took a deep breath and started down the rickety steps. This was definitely something she’d have to have fixed. Eventually. Right now, she had bigger concerns. Namely that two of the electrical outlets in the front room didn’t work.

She was praying it was just a tripped breaker, but she was very much afraid it was something more.

“You checked on the plumbing before you bought the place because you wanted to make sure you had plenty of hot water, but you didn’t think to check on the electrical system,” she muttered as she shone the flashlight into the gloom.

She hated basements. They were dark and dingy and sometimes damp. They almost always had a musty, closed-up smell about them, and this one was no different.

If she remembered correctly, there was a light switch at the bottom of the stairs.

Something else she needed to add to her to-do list. She definitely needed a switch at the top of the stairs.

Flashing the light along the wall near the bottom, she gave a crow of triumph when she found what she was looking for. “Gotcha.” She flicked the switch and smiled when the bare bulb came to life. “Damn it,” she muttered when it flickered out two seconds later.

She almost retreated up the stairs, but held her ground. “You’re a homeowner now,”

she reminded herself. “You’ve got to learn how to deal with these things.”

Amanda swore she could practically hear Seymour telling her to buck up and get on with it. “Too bad you’re not here, you old goat. I’d make you do this.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them back. Seymour wouldn’t want her to cry. Even on his deathbed, he hadn’t wanted her tears. “I’ve lived a long and interesting life, girl. I’ve got no regrets. Now it’s time for you to live life to the fullest.”

When she’d protested, he’d scowled at her. “Don’t think I don’t know the only reason you’ve stuck around here all these years is because of me. You don’t need to have some old man taking up all your time. You’re young. You need to get out there in the world and live a little.”

Amanda rubbed her eyes as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Seymour had been family. The only one she’d every really had. After shuffling from foster home to foster home for most of her life, Amanda had been emancipated at the age of eighteen.

As a birthday gift, she’d been booted out of the home she’d been living in for the last six months, as the state would no longer pay for her upkeep.

Alone and desperate, Amanda had answered an ad in the local paper. It had simply said, “Assistant wanted.”

She’d been fascinated by Seymour Morton and his books from the moment she’d stepped into his jam-packed store on Mission Road. Books had always been Amanda’s escape from reality. The thought of being able to make a living and support herself while being around books was intriguing and very appealing.

Seymour had taken one look at Amanda and scowled at her. She’d scowled right back at him. Tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, he was an intimidating sight with his wild shock of white hair and his bushy white mustache. But she didn’t care. She’d been in the foster care system too long to show fear. To show fear was to give another person power over you, power they usually abused.