What the Librarian Did Read Free Page A

away, her expression guilt-stricken. He suspected he knew what was worrying her. “Alcohol makes some people maudlin,” he offered. Particularly those who took themselves way too seriously. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “You don’t understand,” she murmured. “He proposed yesterday and I turned him down.”
    “That’s no surprise. There must be a fifteen-year age difference.”
    “Seven years. I’m thirty-four.” Devin’s age. She didn’t look it. The librarian shook her head. “Not that age matters. The important thing now is that—”
    “He’s acting like a wimp?”
    “No!” She took a protective step toward the drunk. Anyone could see she had a conscience. That must be painful for her. “Paul had every right to expect me to say yes. I meant to say yes, only…” Her voice trailed off.
    Paul sat up and grabbed the box. Rachel retreated and they both turned their backs, but couldn’t escape the awful retching sounds. “Only you realized you’d be making a terrible mistake,” Devin finished. Maybe the vintage clothes were an attempt to look older?
    “I drove him to this.” The librarian’s slender throat convulsed. “And he’s not the first man I’ve let down. I…I’m a heartbreaker.”
    As one who’d been given the description by the world’s press, as one who’d dated and even married the female heartbreaker equivalent, Devin was hard put not to laugh. Only the sincerity in her pale face stopped him from so much as a grin. She really believed it, which was kind of cute—if a little sad. And he thought he was self-delusional at times.
    Not that she wouldn’t be pretty with a hell of a lot more makeup and a hell of a lot less clothes. The fastidious restraint of all those satin-covered buttons and dainty pearl earrings made Devin itch to pull Rachel’s sleek dark hair out of its practical ponytail. Mess it up a little. Understated elegance was exceedingly bland to a man whose career had depended on showmanship.
    He’d deliberately dressed down to fit in today, and thoughthe’d done a pretty good job until the librarian’s gaze had fallen on his boots. No jewelry except one signet ring and one modest earring…hell, he was practically invisible.
    The sound of retching stopped and they turned around. The drunk—Paul—had pushed up to a sitting position and was wiping his mouth on some copier paper. White-faced and sweating, he glared at Devin. “Who do you think you are, manhandling me like that?”
    Devin shrugged. “Someone had to stop you making an ass of yourself.”
    But Paul had already turned on Rachel. “I hope you’re happy reducing me to this state.”
    “She didn’t force alcohol down your throat,” Devin said quietly.
    The librarian swallowed. “Paul, I’m sorry. I had no idea you cared about me this much.”
    “You think everyone’s as lukewarm as you are?” Paul balled the paper. “I did all the caring in that relationship. All the work in bed. You—”
    “Have really, really bad taste in men,” Devin said, because Rachel was hugging herself and obviously taking this Paul’s rant way too seriously.
    The librarian seemed to remember he was there. She straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, but I can handle it from here.”
    “You sure?” She was obviously out of her depth. “He’s likely to get more abusive. I can toss him in a cab for you.”
    “Thanks,” she said awkwardly, opening the door, “but I’ll be okay.” Devin got the impression she wasn’t used to accepting help. Any more than he was used to offering it. For a moment he had an odd sense of his world shifting. But it had shifted so often lately he ignored it.
    Something incongruous about her appearance had been bothering him, and as she bit her lip Devin finally figured out what it was. Her mouth—lush and full—was more suited to the L.A. strippers he’d shared stages with in the band’s early performing days than a prim librarian. He grinned just as Romeo grabbed the box