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I sat at Specialty Books’ counter, drumming my fingers compulsively against the glass. Mr. Wainwright was puttering in the back, tossing his way through the reference section I’d just spent the better part of two days cataloguing. Knowing that my nephew Andrew had a birthday coming up, he insisted that a tome entitled A Pop-Up Dictionary of Demons would be a perfect gift. I was inclined to agree with him, because it might make Jenny swallow her tongue.
In a rare show of discretion, I didn’t mention my discovery to Mr. Wainwright. I wanted to surprise him somehow, and I didn’t think blurting it out as soon as I opened the door would fit the occasion.
The front doorbell tinkled, and I turned to find Mr. Wainwright’s long-lost great-granddaddy standing at the counter with a scowl on his face.
“Well, Jane, you crook your little finger, and I come running,” Dick said, clearly in a very grumpy mood. “Seems I’m always running after women who aren’t interested.”
“Andrea turned you down again, huh?”
He made a sour face. The more I stared at him, the more I saw a resemblance to Albert—and, for that matter, to Mr. Wainwright. My employer had a smaller build and more delicate features but the same tilting smile, the same green, twinkling eyes. I was a little ashamed that I had missed it.>“I acquiesce to your demands,” he said solemnly. He nodded at my bovine sleepwear. “Now, I think you should take this off.”
I snorted. “Not going to happen, my friend.”
And it didn’t. Instead of hot Valentine’s Day sex, I made Gabriel paint my toes lavender (he has incredibly steady hands) while we watched the most dreaded of all chick flicks, Sleepless in Seattle. I would say he learned his lesson, but I caught him wiping at his eyes toward the end.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“No!” he exclaimed. I snickered and patted his shoulder. “It’s just, it was so unlikely, the two of them showing up at the Empire State Building at the same time after missing each other so often. And—”
“Do you want to sleep over?” I asked suddenly.
“Will I have to sleep on the couch?”
“No, you can sleep in the guest room,” I said sweetly as I secured the blackout curtains.
“I’d rather make a run for my house,” he muttered.
I pulled back the comforter for him. “Fine.”
He grinned and stripped down to his slacks. As a habit, Gabriel didn’t wear underwear. I guess he wasn’t feeling secure enough in my good humor to sleep in the nude. He fluffed the pillows on both sides of the bed and flopped down in giddy anticipation.
“What’s with you?”
“I’m just excited,” he said, grinning.
I rolled my eyes as I reached for the bedside lamp. “Just for the record, this is my first coed sleepover since Zeb and I were in fifth grade. And even then, Mama made Zeb sleep on a different floor of the house. I am the spoonee, by the way. You are the spooner.”
“I don’t spoon,” Gabriel said.
“Well, you do now,” I told him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You don’t snore, do you?”
“I don’t breathe.”
“Good point.”
It was nice to know that our bodies still fit together perfectly outside the sexual arena. Gabriel rested his head on my shoulder, drawing my back against his chest and his knees under my knees. We lay in silence, and I burst out laughing.
“What?” Gabriel asked. “Am I not doing the spooning right?”
“No, it’s great.” I giggled. “But sunrise is not for another four hours. We’re basically going to bed at the equivalent of two P.M. We’ve officially become the least interesting people we know. And considering that we drink blood and burst into flame when we tan, that’s sort of sad.”
“You’re saying the magic’s gone,” Gabriel said.
“Yep.”
“Well, it was nice while it lasted.” Gabriel released me and started climbing out of bed. “I’ll be going now.”
“OK, well, keep in touch.” I clasped his hand. “It was nice knowing you.”
