difficult time turning away from a bookstore.”
“We’re happy to have you.” She motioned toward the bookshelves. “We have a large selection of books, new and used. Many are in English. There are rooms toward the back with older books. We also have an assortment of the more standard souvenirs, including some pottery my sister makes.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at her and headed for the books. I ran my hands over the spines. She had a lot of the most recent best sellers. I stopped on a copy that had a Signed sticker and pulled it off the shelf. It was the UK version of Fall Guy by Liz Reinhardt. I tucked it under my arm and kept looking. Jess would love this one. We’d read the American version months ago. I browsed the shelves a little more and found an interesting book titled Inhale, Exhale by Sarah Ross. I grabbed that one for myself. It was set in the States and looked like it would be pretty steamy.
I left that room and wandered down the little hall and peeked into some of the doorways. A room with old, leather-bound books drew me in like a moth to flame. I took a deep breath, enjoying the musty smell of the old pages. Alex followed me into the room and drifted down one of the aisles to the side. I stopped to stare at some of the names on the spines. I didn’t recognize all the authors, but I hesitated when I hit the A section. I scanned the books carefully, looking for one name in particular.
When my eyes landed on Austen I gulped and carefully pulled the volume off the shelf. Gently I opened the book and checked the publication date. Eighteen thirty-three. It wasn’t a first edition, but that was okay. There wasn’t a price tag, which was intimidating, but I couldn’t walk away from the book.
“What is it?” Alex looked over my shoulder.
“Pride and Prejudice.”
“What year?” He looked over my shoulder at the title page. “First edition?”
“No.” I closed the cover carefully. “But my mother always wanted an old copy of Pride and Prejudice. It was her favorite book.”
“We could keep looking. Maybe the owner has one, or knows of someone that does.”
“I need to ask how much this is—there isn’t a price tag.” I turned the book over and then checked over the binding. “I only checked out of habit. I’ve never seen one this old. Mom would have gone gaga.”
“Then get it.” Alex moved so he was leaning against the bookshelf.
“It’s probably very expensive.” I bit my lip.
“Get it anyway.” Alex shook his head. “You should do something nice for yourself.”
“Buying an ice cream cone or new shoes would be doing something nice for myself. This book probably costs more than some people spend on groceries for a year.”
“If you don’t buy that book, I will.” He stood up straight and held out his hand.
“What? I don’t need you to buy it for me.” I pulled the book against my chest.
“Who said I was going to give it to you?” He smiled and took a step toward me. “Maybe I have secret love for Fitzwilliam Darcy. We do share a name. I also need to get a gift for someone who would love it.”
“If I can’t have it, no one can.” I narrowed my eyes in mock threat.
“Is that so?”
“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.” I backed into the bookshelf behind me.
“Maybe I just need to distract you long enough to steal it.” He put a hand on the shelf by my head.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” I licked my lips.
“I have a few ideas.” He moved his other hand, caging me in, and leaned down.
I clutched the books to my chest and my heart beat against them like a drum. Alex brought his mouth close to mine but stopped a centimeter away. I inhaled his scent and fought my urge to close the distance. Slowly he moved his mouth to my cheek, close enough that I could feel his breath wash across my skin. His journey continued down my jaw and to my neck. My head tilted of its own accord, letting him have better access. One of his hands moved from near my head to just beside my waist, the sleeve of his jacket brushing against my arm.
As he moved from my right side to the left, I tilted my head again, my body alive with anticipation. I