First Night(9)

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, you are. Look, you have the same eyes, same mouth…even your jaws are the same. You’re like his younger twin.”

“He already has a twin.”

“Really? They must be close then. I’ve always heard that twins are inseparable.”

Gabriel opened his mouth and then closed it. A frown tugged at his lips before they lifted into his customary smirk. “Come on, Emma. I have something better to show you.” He tugged me down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

When we arrived at an enormous set of double doors, Gabriel moved me in front of him. “Now close your eyes, my dear.”

I laughed when his hands pressed over my eyes. “Don’t quite trust me, Gordon?”

“Adams, I trust you with everything I have. Indulge me, please?”

I couldn’t deny Gabriel anything especially when he whispered so sweetly in my ear like that. “Okay.”

“All right, Emma. Just a few steps and then…” I heard the door click open and then we shuffled forward. Gabriel removed his hands and said, “Open your eyes.”

I obeyed and then let out a gasp. “Oh my gosh! This is incredible.” I spun in a slow circle. It was a large room with ceilings that were at least twenty feet high and filled with bookshelves on all walls except one, which was completely made of stained glass. I imagined it to be a kaleidoscope of color during the day. “Is this yours?”

Gabriel leaned back against the closed doors. “No, I’m afraid not. But I do spend a lot of time here. It’s my mother’s. Her private library I mean.”

“Is there another?”

He shrugged. “There’s an official one, all leather books and club chairs. You know—the kind you show off to ‘esteemed’ guests.”

“Are you saying I’m not?” I teased with a mock-frown.

“Well, you’re here where they’re never allowed in this room.”

Pleasure danced through my veins. “In that case, thank you.” I gestured to the shelves. “May I?”

“Please.”

Turning away from my gracious host, I eagerly made my way to one shelf and then another and another still. Gabriel’s mother was a voracious reader and a democratic one at that. Non-fiction and fiction lined the shelves from history to romance. I lingered long over the rows of paperbacks, pulling a few out to look at the titles.

“My mother has a thing for romances. She loves a love story.”

I looked at him, my smile soft and a little shy. “You know, I always wanted to read them.”

“Why don’t you?”

Sighing, I shelved the book back in its spot. “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of free time and…”

“And?” he prodded, incredibly wise to the holes in my silence.

“And…I’m afraid I’ll get lectured if I buy them.”

“By who?” Gabriel sounded genuinely perplexed.

“By the sales clerk.” I didn’t tell him that actually had happened the first time I went to buy one. I was so embarrassed that I walked out of the bookstore and never went back again.

“Emma.”

“Gabriel.”

He smiled widely at my tiny attempt at banter. “If you want to read romances, do it. Don’t ever let someone else’s smaller mind stop you from doing what you want. You’re better than that.”

Gabriel’s fervent words made me feel equal parts happiness and discomfort. I wasn’t sure how well I liked him thinking so highly of me. “Yes, well…I’ll remember that the next time I want to read about Dukes or vampires.”

“Good.”

I cleared my throat. “So, huh, what kind of books do you like?”

“All kinds. Fairytales are my favorite.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected. “Seriously?”

Although the room was darkened, I could see the faint blush on his cheeks. It made me want to hug him. “My mother loved reading them to me when I was little. In fact, this was more my playroom than anything else for a long time. We were always together here.”

I tried to imagine the blond cherub he’d been playing on the rug while his beautiful mother curled up on a chair with a book. I remembered being in a local daycare run by a neighbor, one of many who wanted mommy but learned early on not to cry because mommy needed her to be strong.

I didn’t want to think about that or how I carried that into my life always.

Striding across the room, I barely noted Gabriel’s expression. I wanted to kiss him, to take something for myself because I wanted it and not think about the price I was going to pay for being impulsive.