Why did the man have to own the most gorgeous library ever built? It was more than gorgeous and exactly what she would have designed, if she dared to dream of such a thing. The room was long and wide, with shelves of ornate polished walnut floors covered in warm, patterned rugs, dotted by strategically grouped plush chairs. It wasbright, despite its lack of windows. In short, it was the most inviting place she’d ever seen.
But what was truly magical was the sheer number of volumes it contained. Every inch of wall held a book. She leaned back to view the ceiling and nearly swooned. The room was not merely on one level, but extended upward, higher than the Liras’ ballroom even. And it was all covered in books.
“It’s more impressive in full light,” Berab said, his expression and voice smug as he leaned against a ladder while she gaped.
“How high does it go?” she asked, noting the spiral staircases on either side.
“You’re on the first floor of three,” he told her.
“Magnificent,” she admitted, unable to stop staring. She moved toward a shelf, reaching out to touch the volumes.
“I like to think so.” He pushed off the wall and strolled to her side. “I designed it. Birthday gift to myself.”
“That’s quite the gift,” she told him.
“It was quite the birthday. It’s not every day when one turns thirty.” His handsome lips tipped into a grin, making her traitorous body thrum, which was the last thing she needed. What was wrong with her?
Neither had use for the other.
At least not appropriate uses, and those were the uses that counted.
She reached for a copy of Fortin’sAtlas Céleste de Flamstéed. “I accomplished that feat last June.”
“When?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to view her selection. “I mean what day?”
“The twenty-third,” she said, opening the volume and staring at the pages.
“Truly?” he asked, surprise in his voice.
“Yes, I know the date of my own birth,” she said, rather bemused. “Why?”
“It’s not merely the anniversary of your birth,” he said, emphasizing the “your.”
Lifting her chin, she blinked at him. “Truly?”
“Yes.” His smile widened. “It appears that we two were born on the same day.”
Naturally. Because why wouldn’t she now be forced to think of the man on that day every year going forward?
“Six years apart,” she couldn’t help reminding him, shutting the book and sliding it back on the shelf, continuing her perusal.
“Yes,” he said from behind her, making her swallow from his nearness. “I’ve been properly aged like a…”
“Moldy loaf of bread,” she suggested, raising her brows a little.
“Something like that,” he said with a bemused wink.
“Do you prefer some sort of cheese?” she asked, making the mistake of turning around. Oy, he was close. She backed herself against the shelf, the wood digging into her spine.
He paused, as if he was considering the same. “There are worse comparisons,” he said. “People do like cheese.”
“Some varieties,” she admitted.
“I’d been thinking of wine. We’re both quite full bodied after all,” he whispered so close to her ear that if she leaned backward she’d knock into that rather full body.
And, naturally, as she’d clearly lost her mind, her own body tightened at the mere concept. Oy. She gritted her teeth, as she searched for a decent quip to push them into more comfortable territory, as one of them needed to behave properly.
“You’re definitely full of…” She leaned over and squinted at another title, then slid the book out, turning it over in her hand. “This is…”
