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Ugh! This is getting complicated.
Her gaze took in the full, thick beard. It covered a large portion of his face. Between the beard and his longer hair, his face was hidden from view, for the most part. Except for his eyes. Those dark mysterious eyes stared directly at her, but they didn’t give away a thing.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was deep and vibrated with agitation.
“I was looking for you.” She refused to let on that his presence unnerved her. She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. “I thought it was time we met.” She stepped forward and held out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Santoro.”
His eyebrows drew together and he frowned as he gazed at her hand, but he made no move to shake it. “I told you I don’t do face-to-face meetings. And you may call me Deacon.”
Gaby recalled what Mrs. Kupps had said about him preferring formality and was surprised he’d suggest she call him by his given name. Perhaps he wasn’t as stuck in his ways as she’d originally thought.
“And I don’t like to be kept isolated.” Ignoring the quiver of her stomach, Gaby withdrew her hand. “If I am going to work with a person, they need to have the decency to meet with me—to talk one-on-one with me.”
“You’ve seen me. Now go!”
She crossed her arms, refusing to budge. It was time someone called him out on his ridiculous behavior. “Does everyone jump when you growl?”
“I don’t growl.”
She arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
“I don’t.” He averted his gaze.
“You might want to be a little nicer to the people who work for you.” And then she decided that pushing him too far would not help her cause, and said, “I have a request that just came in today for you to make an appearance at the upcoming awards show to present an award—”
“No.”
“No? As in you don’t want to attend? Or no, as in you won’t be a presenter?”
“No, as in I’m not leaving this house. And no, I’m not presenting any awards. Have you looked at me? No one would want me in front of a camera.”
The fact that he’d
dismissed the idea so quickly surprised her. For some reason, she thought he would enjoy being in the spotlight. Isn’t that what all movie stars craved?
Deciding it might be best to change the subject, she said, “You have an amazing library.”
At first, he didn’t say a word. She could feel his gaze following her as she made her way around the room, impressed that the books were placed in the Library of Congress classification system. Was it possible Mr. Santoro...erm, Deacon loved books as much as her?
“I see you have your books cataloged.” She turned back to him. “Do you also have a digital catalog?”
He nodded. “The computer that houses the database is over there.”
She followed the line of his finger to a small wooden desk next to the door she’d entered. “This place is amazing. I’ve never known anyone with such an elaborate private library.”
His dark eyebrows rose behind his shaggy hair. “You like books?”
“I love them. I’m a librarian and...” Realizing that she was about to reveal that she was an aspiring journalist would only make him more wary of her.
“And what?”
“I was going to say that I read every chance I get.” She turned back to him. “I take it you read, too.”
He shrugged. “I used to. These days my reading is all work-related.”
“That’s a shame, because books are the key to the imagination. You can travel the world between the pages of a book. Or visit another time period. Anything is possible in a book.”
“What is your favorite genre?”
