The television in the living room blasted on at full volume to drown us out, I supposed.
On my way down the hallway toward the stairs, I peeked in at Sam, who sat on the couch staring at the screen, his whole face void of feeling.
I wished I could stay home with him instead.
* * *
LATER, RILEY AND Isat in a crowded restaurant at a corner table with a white linen tablecloth and a mini chandelier hanging over our heads. The cover of the menu called this place V, but the inside of the menu renamed it Overpriced. This wasn’t my first choice of restaurant, if I’d had a choice, but as I listened to Riley drone on about the alcohol selection, I realized tonight was more about him than me.
While I offered nods and meaningless words at the appropriate times, my thoughts strayed to Sam. No one had ever made me feel that way before, so...consumed with passion and wanted at the same time.
My body hummed at the craving in Sam’s lips, his fiery touch, and the way his body felt flush with mine. It pooled a delicious heat into my lower belly and scorched my body with a fevered need. I squirmed in my seat, trying to focus on what Riley was saying, but the throbbing between my thighs wouldn’t relent.
A model/waitress with perfect blonde hair bounced over to our table, a pen but no notepad in hand. “Sorry about the wait. Can I get you anything to drink?”
I scanned the menu again, but all the words blurred into an orgy of naughty food items like jerk chicken, beef tips, and banana nut pound cake. I swallowed on a frustrated laugh.
“Your house wine for me and...” Riley gestured at me.
“Uh...” What would have happened if Riley hadn’t walked in on us? The possibilities burned me up from the inside out.
“Are you okay, Paige?” Riley asked over the top of his menu. “You’re all flushed.”
“Fine. I’m fine.” I looked at the waitress. “Do you have any water?”
“We might,” the waitress said, and I had no idea if she was joking or not.
Granted, I’d asked a stupid question, so therefore it must deserve a stupid answer.
She clicked her pen a number of times, sending in our drink order by Morse code, I supposed, then sashayed to the next table.
A small smile played across Riley’s mouth as he turned his head, faking a casual glance around the restaurant, but really checking out our model waitress’s ass.
Classy.
“So, out with it,” Riley said, turning to me once again. “Tell me every detail about today. It must have been amazing to leave you so tongue-tied.”
At the mention of tongues, I dug my fingernails into my thighs so the pain would keep me focused. “It was amazing. The internship, I mean.”
Riley grinned. “I thought that was what we were talking about.”
“It is. We are,” I said, then took a long, steadying breath. “We took a tour of some of the areas not open to the public.”
“I’m envious.”
“You should be. And the United States government will be very unhappy if I tell you anything about those areas, so don’t even ask.”
“Fair enough,” Riley said, laughing.
The waitress came back with our drinks and took our food order. I ordered something that didn’t have too many zeroes behind it, though five seconds after she clicked her pen and glided away again, I couldn’t remember what I’d just read from the menu.
“I had French fries and a turkey sandwich at the library café.” See, I could remember that. “And I met some really good, interesting, bookish-type people that I may have to throw down the stairs to get a Library of Congress job.”
Riley choked on his sip of wine and sputtered into his napkin. “What?” he asked when he’d collected himself.
“That was the part I didn’t like.”
Oneof the parts I didn’t like. The memories Rick stirred up and his Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde act had diminished my excitement considerably. The whole thing made me feel sick to my stomach, but a small part of that uncomfortable conversation had awakened the information-finding beast lurking in all librarians.
