“Very funny. That’s why you’re here.”
“Yes, well, I’d still rather see you.” He seemed reluctant to let me go and I was perfectly happy to stay right where I was. After another minute or so, he said, “No matter what happens, I’m taking you out tonight.”
“Are you?”
“I am.” He leaned his head back and frowned at me. “You’re not otherwise engaged, are you?”
“Do you care?” I asked.
His mouth twisted into a sexy grin. “Of course I care.”
I patted the lapel of his bazillion-dollar Savile Row suit. “Then I’m available.”
“I’m glad.”
We continued to smile at each other and I tried to put a name to the emotion running through me. I felt . . . happy. No, more than happy. Blissful. Complete.
There was that sappiness again. Really, I didn’t need anyone to complete me, for God’s sake. I was complete all on my own.
And how complete could someone else make me feel when I’d never even been on a date with him? Crime scenes, yes. But unless crime scenes counted as dates, I barely knew him.
And just how happy and blissful would I be when he left? Did I really want to open myself to the pain I would suffer then? Because he would leave. His home was six thousand miles away. He’d only been to San Francisco a few times on business.
But none of that mattered to my heart right now. Or any other parts of me, either. I didn’t know what was going on between Derek and me, didn’t know where we would end up, but I was tired of fighting against the tide. I just wanted to be with him.
I rested my head on his custom-suited shoulder.
“Don’t ever play poker,” he said, brushing back my hair to nuzzle my neck.
“Why not?”
“Your face is an open book.”
I lifted my head and studied his face for a moment, then frowned. “I can’t read one word on yours.”
“That’s because I’m a highly trained operative,” he said, bending his head to graze his lips along my jaw.
I laughed. “Oh, Commander, does that line really work?”
“I believe it’s working right now,” he murmured, and kissed my neck.
After that exhilarating dinner break, I found myself racing through the second half of the class. There was more laughter and lots of questions. I tried to slow down, tried to be attentive to everyone’s needs, but I just wanted to get out of there.
I’d already given myself the lecture about appearing too eager, but let’s face it, that ship had sailed. Apparently, my heart was on my sleeve. Go ahead and call me an idiot. It couldn’t be worse than the names I’d already called myself, including fifty-seven kinds of stupid.
Somehow I managed to get through the class. I made sure everyone had someone to accompany them to their cars. For once, Mitchell wasn’t paying attention as he strolled off with the other two librarians, deep in conversation.
I straightened the room and walked out to the gallery. Derek wasn’t in the immediate vicinity so I checked the alcoves and the hallways, then wandered into Gunther’s classroom. It was empty. I could see lights on in the office wing so I ambled down the hall, thinking Derek might’ve struck up a conversation with one of the managers.
Naomi was the only one still around. She sat at her desk, pounding on a calculator and writing numbers on a sheet of paper. A single lamp illuminated the desk surface, leaving her face in shadow.
“Hi, Naomi,” I said.
Her hand jerked and the pencil slid across the page, leaving a dark mark. “Damn it.”
“Sorry to startle you,” I said.
She exhaled and I could see a frown appear on her face. “It’s okay. I thought everyone had left. Look, about the book,” she said, erasing the pencil smudge.
“Oh, we can talk about that later,” I said, glancing down the hall. I had bigger things on my mind than the Oliver Twist. “I’m looking for Derek Stone. I was supposed to meet him after my class.”
“Really?” Her eyes gleamed with intent. “He left awhile ago.”
I frowned. Maybe she misunderstood. “Derek Stone? The British guy? He left?”
“I know who he is.” Thump-thump-thump went the eraser. “He left with the police.”
I froze, unsure if I’d heard her right. Her thumping eraser was getting on my nerves. “The police were here?”
“Yeah. Oh, you must’ve been in class.”
“Right. So he left at the same time the police did?”
She chuckled scornfully. “Not exactly.”
I had to hold myself back from strangling her as my voice rose. “Then what, exactly?”
She stared up at me and I could see how much she loathed me at that moment. I guess maybe I’d laid it on a little heavy earlier, when I accused her dearly departed aunt of lying.
“The police took him in for questioning,” she said.
In shock, I had to force the word out. “Why?”
She made an exasperated sound and waved the pencil around. “Oh, come on, Brooklyn. You know, about his thing with Layla.”