“So, would you sleep with him?” Eliza said the next morning, as she and Cat settled into their regular booth. “I might, if I got the chance.”
“Shh!” Cat choked out, nearly tipping over her coffee mug. “Someone might be listening.” She peeked around the room. No one seemed to be paying any attention.
“Well, they wouldn’t have much to hear, would they, if neither one of us sleeps with him. I thought you said you wouldn’t mind a little action,” Eliza shot back. “It’s exciting to see you finally noticing men again. It’s been a long time.”
“What do you think I am, a Cat on the prowl?” She snickered at her own bad joke. “I know most people will sleep with whomever whenever these days, but I’m not like that.”
“Despite what you wrote in that Carreling story, huh?”
Cat gritted her teeth. “That was a story.”
“Ha, ha, I know. But, hey, Grayson is a grad student, right?What’s wrong with hoping a little fantasy can come to life?”
Cat tensed. She’d thought of the similarities between the grad student and her story, too. She couldn’t help it, not after her crazy thoughts about Derrick and that high school story. Of course, meeting a grad student didn’t mean she was destined to sleep with him. Grad students were a dime a dozen in Charlottesville. And her story had been about a guy named Nick. In the library. Not about a guy named Grayson in her bookstore.
She wanted to laugh at how presumptuous it sounded, to think a man like that might want to sleep with her. Her body flamed at the thought, imagining those lips trailing down over...
She shook her head. Stop it, Schreiber! That’s never going to happen!
Still, it was odd that she’d met a quarterback mechanic and a sexy doctoral student within days after reading stories—stories she’d written—about people who bore more than a passing resemblance to those main characters. Wasn’t it?
Eliza grimaced. “Well, I like the idea.”
Cat was grateful Eliza had misinterpreted her headshake—no need for her bestie to know she was drooling over a man. Any man. Or that she was having bizarre thoughts about those stupid stories.
“I want you to live a little,” Eliza said. “Let passion in your life again. Let love ... heck, let lust!” Her eyes bore into Cat’s. “Don’t let Ryan win. He didn’t deserve you then, and he certainly doesn’t deserve the power he still holds in your life now.”
“Power now? What are you talking about? I’ve moved on.” Cat set her coffee mug down defiantly. “He was a deceiving jerk, and I wouldn’t give him the time of day if he walked in here right now.”
“Maybe not,” Eliza conceded. “But you haven’t moved on. You’re treading water, just trying not to drown. And you’re convinced no one will help you, that you can’t trust anyone to throw you a line, because he hooked you so deep, reeled you in, and then left you gasping for air.”
“Oh my Lord, drama queen. No wonder you’re an English major. Enough with the swimming-fishing analogies. And enough about men. I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”
Cat took a bite of an enormous blueberry muffin. She usually didn’t indulge in sweets in the morning, but a downed computer system meant she didn’t give a fig for moderation. “Did you do anything on the downstairs computer last night?”
Eliza looked up from swirling her coffee. “Me? No. I was in bed by 9:30. Exciting life I lead, I know.”
“Ugh. Guess I’ll have to call Mike. I don’t want to shell out for computer repairs, but I think we’re going to have to. An order came in last night for that Winnie the Pooh book, but I can’t get the Internet working to see where to send it. That’s an $11,000 sale. Lord knows we need the money.”
She sighed as she took another bite of the muffin.
Eliza had suggested a couple of years ago that they branch out into the online market. Cat had resisted at first—wasn’t that everything her father had fought against?
“There’s nothing like a real book,” he’d stated. “You’ve got to touch it, to feel it, to be able to absorb its essence.”
How could one do that buying off a screen? But knowing such sales could save the store, they’d started offering rare and antique books on the Web—they couldn’t compete against Amazon with the popular stuff, anyway. Sales were infrequent, but did boost revenue. They certainly had enough inventory; Frank’s favorite pastime had been buying crates of old books from auctions and estate sales—his own form of treasure hunting, he’d joked.
“Did you call the cable company?” Eliza asked.
“Yeah, that’s the first thing I did, but they say everything’s fine on their end—that it must be something with our computers.” Cat nervously shredded her napkin.
“Excuse me. Did you say eleven grand for a book?” came a male voice at her right side, causing Cat to knock over her coffee.
“I’ll get some napkins,” Eliza exclaimed, leaping up and heading to the sidebar.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man leaned over the table and started sopping up the mess with his own napkin.
Cat turned toward the source of the voice. “Oh, it’s you. Hi, Ben,” she said, swiping at the coffee with her napkin, as well.
He was so close Cat caught the surprisingly delicious smell of his skin. She inhaled, trying to determine the scent. It was pleasant. Masculine. With undertones of something she couldn’t quite identify. She ducked her eyes when he looked at her questioningly.
“Someone will really pay that?” he continued. It was a relief he was asking about the book, seemingly unaware of her olfactory fantasies.
“It’s a 1926 American first edition, one of only two hundred copies, signed by both Milne and his illustrator,” she rattled off. “So, yeah, collectors will pay for something like that. But I can’t ship it if I can’t get on the site.”
“You can’t check the website somewhere else, like on your phone?”
Cat sat there, nonplussed. Eliza, who’d returned with a pile of new napkins, stared at her, wide-eyed.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” Eliza said. She grabbed her phone and pulled up the store’s email. “Here it is,” she yelled, hopping up and down.
“Thank God.” Cat sighed in relief. “That never occurred to me.”
“Yeah, because you don’t like technology,” Eliza interjected.
Cat bristled. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s that it doesn’t come naturally to me.” She picked at the edge of her muffin. “Your phone doesn’t solve the problem of our non-working Internet, though. How are we going to ring up customers today when the card processing software can’t connect?”
“I could come over and check it out if you’d like,” Ben offered. “I’m a professor, not a repair person, but I might be able to figure it out.”
Cat gaped at him. “You’re a professor? Here? At UVa?”
“What kind of professor?” Eliza demanded at the same time.
“Computer science,” he said to Eliza, and then looked back at Cat, his eyes twinkling. “I take it you don’t think I look like one?”
“Um, not really. You’re not wearing a sweater vest. Or glasses,” Eliza put in.
“And you’re actually cute,” Cat blurted out. Oh my God, I can’t believe I said that. She was sure her cheeks were going to fall off, they burned so badly.
Ben’s cheeks colored as well, but he gave her a warm grin. “Why, thank you.”
Cat stared at him. “I thought you were a grad student or something. You’re always wearing sweatshirts and jeans.”
“You’ve noticed what I wear?”
Cat briefly considered sliding under the table. “Uh ...” she hedged.
Thank goodness he didn’t notice how flustered she was—or at least he was gracious enough to ignore it. Her cheeks sizzled as he left to throw away the soggy napkins. Even her ears felt as if they were on fire.
Walking back to the table, he said, “In any case, shall I see if I can figure out the problem?”
“That would be great. I’d really appreciate it.”
“Do you need another coffee?” he asked as he picked up his bag. “Or you, Eliza?”
“No, no, I’m good. Thanks, Ben,” Eliza answered.
“Me, either. I can’t think of anything else but getting this all sorted out,” Cat said, pulling on her jacket.
Ben held the door for both Eliza and her as they all headed out. Suddenly, he sang out, “Here I come to save the day!”
“Mighty Mouse!” Cat answered, laughing as they crossed the street.
“You know Mighty Mouse?” His face lit up in surprise.
“Sure, my sister and I used to watch the old cartoons at my grandma’s house,” Cat said as they climbed the steps to the house together.
Eliza held the door while Ben walked through. As Cat followed him, Eliza gave her a knowing grin.
What? Cat mouthed.
Eliza snorted as she followed her friend through the door, but said nothing further.
“This place is beautiful,” Ben said, pausing as he surveyed the store. He strolled down an aisle, touching the shelves and perusing book titles. “I love the cherry bookcases. Real wood warms up any space, doesn’t it?”
“My dad always said the same thing, that there was nothing like true wood to show off books and bring coziness to a library,” Cat said, following him. “The only thing better, according to him, was a fireplace. A real wood-burning one—none of this modern artificial flame stuff from today.”
Ben looked around, and then walked over to the fireplace near the sofa, running his hand along the top of the mantel. Cat followed him. “Wow, is this original?” he asked.
“Yeah. From the 1880s, Dad said.”
Eliza called out from the back of the room. “It’s over here, Ben. The screen is on, but it’s not letting us get on the web.”
“OK,” he replied, heading back to the oak desk. He pointed at the computer monitor. “This icon shows there’s no Internet connectivity. Where’s your modem?”
“Uh, I think it’s under the desk with all the other cords,” Cat answered as she crossed to the desk. “I haven’t done anything with all that stuff since Mike from C’ville Computers set it up for us.”
Ben got down on his knees and crawled under the desk.
“Yup, here it is,” came his muffled voice.
Eliza cast an appreciative glance at his backside, then waggled her eyebrows at her friend. Stifling a giggle, Cat moved around to the back of the desk to stand next to her.
“Can you tell what the problem is?” she asked, trying hard not to ogle Ben’s nicely formed derriere herself. She always had liked a man in jeans.
She heard a bit of rustling, and then Ben called out, “Try it now.”
Leaning over, she clicked the icon on her screen for checking her email. “It’s working! What did you do?”
Ben backed out from the desk and stood up. “I plugged the cable back into the modem. It had been jiggled loose and almost fell out. And I think I know the jiggler.”
He held up a clump of fur, arching an eyebrow. “In my estimation, the culprit was someone of the feline variety,” he intoned, Sherlock Holmes-style.
Cat and Eliza both burst out laughing. “Elvis!” they exclaimed at the same time.
Ben’s eyebrow remained arched in an inquisitive fashion. “No, ladies, I’m pretty sure Elvis is dead. This was the workings of a cat.”
“Elvis is our cat.” Eliza giggled. “He likes to seek out warm places to hide, especially in this colder weather. I guess under the desk seemed like an ideal spot.”
“Thank you so much, Ben. I’m glad we didn’t have to pay someone to come out and discover a cable was loose,” Cat said. She reached out to dust fur off of his arm. “Obviously I need to sweep better under the desk.”
“Not a problem. Any time. Listen, I need to head over to my office for office hours, but I’ll stop back in again sometime.” He looked around the store once more. “Ever thought about serving coffee in here? It’s got a great atmosphere.”
Cat and Eliza looked at each other. “Not really,” they answered together.
“We always go across the street for that,” Cat added.
“I’d bet lots of people would hang out in here if they could get their caffeine fix as well as their literary one. Works for Barnes and Noble, and this place has more character than your run-of-the-mill chain bookstore. I’d far prefer to hang here.”
He cast a quick glance at Cat, and then looked back toward the front door, letting out a small sigh. “I have to go. My students will be crushed if I don’t show up, I’m sure.”
Cat walked with him to the door. “Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver!” she said as she flipped the sign from Closed to Open. Impulsively, she clasped him in a quick hug. When he didn’t return it, she stepped back, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Sorry. I’m just so grateful.” She opened the door for him.
He paused a moment before answering. “Not a problem.” His eyes twinkled. “Anything for a damsel in distress,” he added, raising a pretend sword as he walked out the door.
Cat could hear Eliza’s footsteps as her friend approached her.
“You know, coffee’s not a bad idea,” Eliza said. “It would at least save us the cost of our daily lattes.”
Cat’s eyes remained fixed on the retreating form of Ben Cooper. “True. But do we want people spilling coffee all over the books? And what if they hung out but didn’t buy anything?”
“Ever the pessimist, darling Cat,” Eliza chided. “Let’s think it over. Maybe we could lure our favorite barista away from across the street.”
“We can’t afford a barista. And I’m not a pessimist.” Cat crossed her arms. “I’m a realist.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “If you say so.” Strolling back toward the desk, she called over her shoulder, “So, what do you think about Ben?”
“Ben?”
“Yeah, Ben. You know, the guy that was just here? The one who saved the day? The one who I’m pretty sure has the hots for you?”
Cat snorted. “For me? I don’t think so. He was being helpful.” Images of Ben’s well-formed, jeans-clad rear popped into her head.
Eliza eyed her. “I’d take that kind of helpful any day.”
“He’s taken.”
“Really? I didn’t see a ring.”
“You were looking for one?” Cat laughed as Eliza’s cheeks flushed.
“A woman notices these things. What makes you think he’s taken?”
“Don’t you remember the woman he was with that day we first saw him in the coffee shop?” Recalling how Ben had looked at that woman brought an ache to her rib, a sharp stab of envy.
Eliza’s brow furrowed. “Vaguely. Do you know for sure she was a girlfriend? I mean, did they kiss?”
“Uh, not that I recall. Regardless, I’m not about to go near a taken man. Not that I would have cheated before, but knowing what it’s like being on the other side of that issue? Nu-huh, not gonna happen.”
“You could always ask him.”
“No way,” Cat choked out, her face burning once again.
“So you are interested...”
Cat wished she had something to chuck at her friend. “Give it a rest, Eliza. You’re making it sound like I’m desperate.”
“Ha, definitely not desperate. I can’t keep up with you these days, with all these men in your life.”
“All these men? I’ve gone out with one guy, and mildly flirted with another—meaning Grayson, not Ben. I hardly think that counts as a lot of men.”
“Let’s see. How many men have you paid attention to in the last six years? Zero. So I would say two in the space of a month is a two hundred percent increase. Plus, I still think Ben is a possibility. Your possibility.” Eliza gave her friend a wicked grin. “What’s your secret?”
“Secret?”
“Are your ears clogged? Yeah, secret. You go for years ignoring men and, without wanting to hurt your feelings, not having them pay any attention to you. That armor you’ve been wearing is pretty thick. So what’s changed?”
Cat walked over to the Nonfiction section and pretended to straighten books, her posture exuding a defensive tone. “Armor?” she scoffed. “I think you have me confused with a medieval knight.”
“No, I’m pretty sure your knight just walked out the door.”
“Stop it!” Cat protested, laughing. “Pretty soon you’re going to be trying to hook me up with whatever male passes the least bit near me.”
“Hardly, dear friend. I’ll only accept the best for you.”
Cat gave her a smile, surprised to feel tears well up in her eyes. “You are so good to me, Eliza. Thank you.”
Eliza waved her hand dismissively. “Back at ya, friend. But I’m waiting to hear the secret, because my last few dates have been busts, and I’m not getting any younger.”
Cat’s mind jumped immediately to the medieval book, the one she was hoping to pick up from Jill soon. She’d called her last night to ask about it, but Jill said it would be another day or two, that she had to scan it in between other official work projects.
Why did she keep thinking about the manuscript? Or those stupid stories she’d written? Because of the similarities to Derrick and Grayson? Alleged, superficial similarities, that was.
At least I never wrote one about a computer science professor for Eliza to rib me about. She snorted at the thought. Computer guys weren’t what leapt to mind when one thought of romantic heroes. Not that she was thinking about Ben in that way.
“If you’ll recall, my date with Derrick wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven. I’m betting Grayson Phillips flirts with every woman he sees. And Ben Cooper is not an option, whether or not I want him to be.” Which she didn’t. Did she?
Eliza was right. She could ask Ben outright if that woman was his girlfriend. Simple enough. But doing so would make him believe she was interested, wouldn’t it? And something about that made her very nervous, more nervous than she’d been around Derrick, or even Grayson. Why?
She left the bookshelf and strolled toward Eliza, determined to change the subject. “As for serving coffee, we can consider it. I could use another cup after this bizarre conversation. But for now, since it’s slow, let’s get everything prepped for Poetry Night. I found an old wooden podium under the stairs I thought people might like to use. It’s over near the storeroom.”
Eliza retrieved the oak podium and wheeled it in front of the sofa. Standing behind it, she said, “This is great. It makes me feel positively professorial.” Pulling her hair up into a severe bun, she pointed to an imaginary blackboard with a ruler she’d found on the podium’s ledge, calling out “For example!” in as pompous a voice as she could muster.
Cat cracked up, laughing so hard her sides hurt. Thank God for her best friend. Eliza said her mom had often called her ‘Spunky Sunshine,’ and Cat could see what she meant. It was nice to have someone temper Cat’s own often less-than-optimistic outlook.
She moved to the entrance and opened the door to usher in an elderly couple who had just made their way up the front stairs. Eliza was still pontificating behind the podium. Cat asked the wife if she could help them find anything, then offered a Poetry Night flyer.
“She’s warming up over there,” Cat commented, as the elderly man’s eyes fixed on Eliza.
“If she’s the main attraction, we’ll be sure to return,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Oh, Norm.” His wife rolled her eyes, an amused smile teasing at her lips. Clearly she was used to such comments.
“No one can hold a candle to you, m’dear.” He reached for her hand. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun for an old man to watch them try.”
Cat smiled at the obvious affection between the couple, even as a bolt of jealousy zapped her. She wanted someone to look at her like that when she was eighty. The face that flashed through her head, however, was not Derrick’s, nor Poetry Guy’s, but that of a man laughing as he waved his imaginary sword to defend her from dragons. Or cats.