Music, something classical, played softly from hidden speakers.
The place was huge, a split-level deal with more books upstairs and a bank of what looked like offices. He stood there in the middle of the floor and just looked around. That was until he was noticed by a perky blonde, who came rushing forward.
"Mr. Tyrell." She gushed, hands fluttering towards her generous chest. "Kincaid Tyrell. Welcome. How can I help you?"
Her eyes were sending out an obvious invitation that had him grimacing.
"I need to speak to Ms. Abigail Blake."
"Oh." The disappointment that she was not going to be escorting him around showed on her face. "She's in the story time. Why don't I show you..."
"Just point me to it and I'll find my way."
Her face fell. Shrugging, she gestured to the left, past shelves of toys of every child's imagination. "They should be about finished now. Well, if you need anything..."
"I'll find you." Without waiting for her response, he started winding his way through throngs of last-minute customers.
He had spent last night and early this morning thinking of a different approach. Obviously she had not taken too kindly to his attempt to apologize. He would approach it from a business end and go on from there. Ignoring the curious looks thrown his way, he continued until he came to a wide open space filled with children.
The woman he was seeking sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, surrounded by kids of varying ages and they were listening raptly as she read from a Jane Eyre book. She had a beautiful voice, he mused, one that was made to tell stories.
Leaning on the jamb, he shoved his hands into his pockets, prepared to be entertained. Her hair was caught in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. The coral pink sweater was stunning against her skin. Knee-high boots covered black slacks, and she looked as beautiful as he remembered.
He was not surprised to feel the heat rising inside him.
The story finished and questions were asked and answered. Children started filing out, some of them lingering to speak with her. He noticed how patient she was, tilting her head to listen to a child and responding with a smile. Her smile was lethal, he mused.
A child, one he judged to be about four or five, raced towards her, wild dark brown curls flying. Abigail wrapped her arms around her and kissed her forehead. A frown touched his brow when the child called her mama.
She had a daughter? He felt a funny twist inside his chest. Did that mean she was married? He hadn't seen a ring on her finger, but that meant nothing.
He was contemplating that particular hitch in his plans, when the child happened to turn her head. Shock slammed inside him and had him going still. The little girl was the most beautifulchild he had ever seen, but that was not what struck him and had his heart racing.
It was like looking in a bloody mirror. The nose, mouth, forehead and chin were his. No, he shook his head dazedly. No, it couldn't be. He was seeing things. Then she smiled and the uncertainty vanished.
Time seemed to slow as a thousand thoughts collided in his mind. He gripped the doorframe, trying to steady himself while reason warred with a surge of emotion he hadn't expected to feel. For a moment, the lively bustle of the bookstore faded, replaced by a buzzing in his ears and the unmistakable realization that his life had just shifted on its axis.
"Mama." Zoe tugged at her sweater to get her attention. "There's a man standing there."
"What..." She looked up, annoyance flickering over her face at first and then she saw the shock and accusation on his.
She went still, heart rapping against her ribs. It was bound to happen one day, but she had not expected it to be so soon. She barely noticed when her daughter left her lap and went over to him.
"Hi. My name is Zoe. Are you a friend of my mom's?"
He finally found his voice as he continued staring at her, noticing every little thing. She was smiling and had an identical dimple at the left side of her mouth. He had one there too. Hunkering down, he struggled to appear normal as he smiled at her.
"Yes. We know each other. My name is Kincaid Tyrell."
She tilted her head to stare at him. "That's a funny name."
"Is it? How old are you?"
"Four." She held up four fingers to demonstrate and had him smiling. "Mama and everyone says I'm smart for my age. I can read."
"I bet you can." He rose just as Abigail came over.
"Darling, why don't you go and find grandma?" She clamped a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You have dance class in a few minutes."
