The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series) (10 page)

“Susan? Why on earth are you calling me at this hour of the night?”

“It’s the only way I c
an reach you without
he
r
listening in.”

“What’s the matter, Susan?”

“It’s regarding Library Board matters.”

She had emphasized Library Board, which indicated
a cult issue. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“It seems we have an issue of differing philosophies with an individual. This person is poised to undermine your authority and objectives for our next meeting.”

“Go on.”

“This person has already made it so inhospitable that I doubt
our new librarian will stay much longer
. W
e’ll
have to alter our plans f
rom
a welcome party to a farewell party
.”

“
I see.
Yes, there does seem to be a difference of opinion as to what we do to benefit the library. But as you know, I’m the president of the board. I make the final call on everything. I’ll take care of it. Thank you so much, Susan, for your loyalty to our library and always looking out for its best interests. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you,
Victor
. Sorry to bother you
, but I thought you should know
. Good night.”

He hung up the phone and got out of bed. There’d be no more sleeping for him tonight. Susan had indicated Nancy Westin as a traitor to the cult
and Satan
.
Tomorrow would be a busy day. He’d have to kill Nancy and kidnap Camille Dutton. Nancy would be easy.
A
breakfast meeting with her
should do the trick.
Camille posed a bit more of a challenge. But a plan
percolated
in his mind that had
strong possibilities.

He stalked over to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet which had a hidden compartment built in behind the shelving. It hid his poisons and other concoctions. “Hmm, which one
for Nancy
, which one? Fast but painful or slow and agonizing? Well, she likes her screwing long and slow, so I’ll just give her what she likes.”
Chuckling, he
took out the tiny bottle with the lethal liquid
and put it on the bathroom counter
.
Then he opened a drawer and pulled out a photograph. He caressed the face smiling back at him. “And as for you, my dear Marked One, you don’t have to worry about leaving the island ever again.”

***

Camille
didn’t expect
Derek to accept
her offer
.
She couldn’t believe she asked him in the first place.
It was quite impulsive on her part. A quality she usually never entertained.
But now she was stuck.
Well into the wee small hours of the morning, she first thought to say goodnight at the door after some luscious mouth munching
. B
ut with everything that occurred earlier
,
and what she learned about herself, reasoning
decided to take
a holiday and fear swooped in
fast
, giving her no choice but to
cave to her
inner
damsel in distress
and not want to enter an empty house alone
.

“
Of course I’d love to stay
.
”
He sounded so happy, so pleased to have been asked.
But stay? She didn’t ask him to stay. Why would he want to stay over with her?

“Really?”
The first and last time a guy stayed over, he promised her the world, and then took it back
in the morning
,
along with her virginity.
Refusing
to make the same mistake again, she clarified what “stay” meant to her.
“Just for a little bit
, then
.”

“
Oh, okay
.
No problem.
Camille, y
ou’re a living ice cube that’s about to shatter from all the trembling. Let’
s get you inside and warmed up.
”

“
You’re right. I am
.” She tried in vain to unlock her door and gave up, passing him the keys instead. “Would you please?”

“Sure.” He smiled
easily
and opened the door.

She scooted past him
, toss
ed
her backpack on the floor,
and turned on the foyer light. “It’s
mostly
your fault
that I’m a blithering mess
, you know
.”

He blanched and shut the door behind him. “
Yes,
I know. Does this make up for it?”

Stepping toward her with
apology and desire warring in his eyes,
he
slid his fingers from her jaw line around to the base of
her neck, tugg
ing her close for a soul
-searing k
iss.
Drawn
in
like a
dust bunny to a vacuum
, she fell into his embrace, and let him
soothe
away the
uncertainty
with his tender lips
.
A moan
rattled low in her throat
.
My God
, but he’s a great kisser!

“This is part of the reason
why
I’m a mess
,” she spoke
while
her lips
sought
the corners of his mouth
and back again
.
Her hands betrayed her mind and wound their way through his silky hair.
His rumpled look had been one of the reasons she’d taken a further glance at him at the library. That and his mesmerizing eyes. Her mind fought back against the growing heat emanating from the core of her
and pulled away, absently touching her fingers to her lips.
“
I think you should
go. It’s late.
I’ll be fine now.”
No
way could
she
take this any further.
Making out by the front door
spoke volumes to her growth in the romance department
.
But she feared if anything more were to
develop
she’d lose herself again
.
Walking over to the door, she thought of the very last time she’d been kissed so thoroughly.
Robert
, the virginity stealer
.
Damn him!

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve done
something
right. But it can
’t
go any further than this right now.
It’s been
quite
a tumultuous
day. Be safe driving home.” She smiled and gently prodded the perplexed schoolboy out the door. “
I’ll see you in a couple days
, I suppose. Thanks for the drive.”

She
smiled as she
calmly shut the door behind him
,
and
when it closed, she leaned against it
shaking
her head.
Boy, he could do some real damage to this heart if I’m not careful.
Moving boxes were arriving in a few hours. She needed to
go to bed
and not think about anything for a while.
Especially kisses that curled her toes and straightened her hair.

***

A low rumbling roused her from a restless sleep. Obnoxious raps on her door told her the movers were here with her belongings
. Yawning, she threw the covers back and raced downstairs, still in her clothes from yesterday. Too tired to care, she opened the door without even looking
first
in the foyer mirror.
A burley, sweaty man stood before her, dressed in jeans and a
Motorhead
t-shirt.
He tried hiding a grin, but failed miserably. Irritated, she ran her fingers through her hair and found much of it had been behaving badly.
No wonder the smile.

“You Ms. Dutton?”

“Yes, I am.
Did you know the first hair dryer was a vacuum cleaner?” The guy stood there with a “do you think I give a shit” look.
Damn these facts swirling in my head!
“Well then, y
ou must have my boxes.”

“
Yeah, f
ive
of
’
em
, right
?
”

“
That is correct,
sir.”

“Sign here
and here
, please
,
and we’ll start unloading.” He offered her his clipboard.

“Sure, you can put them all right in this room
.” Not keen on having him or any other strange man see her bedroom, she’d settle for bringing those boxes upstairs herself.

“Okay, give us five minutes and we’ll be out of your
way
.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and retreated to the kitchen to find a cup and pour
ed
herself some orange juice. By the time she downed her glass, they’d only one box left to bring in.
As she watched the truck disappear down the road, she wished it would turn around, pick up all her
boxes, put her in one, too, and take her back home. Her real home. Where she could feel the solid ground beneath her once again.

It seemed as though, from the start, transferring to Shelter Island had its share of problems. She had no idea that among the list of everyday acclimating endeavors, she’d be required to endure hazing, share space with ghosts, and become a party to a satanic cult investigation. Having the day off would give her a chance to reassess her position overall and strategize her next steps.

When she left this library, where did she go? She couldn’t go back to her
old job
. Or could she? They weren’t downsizing. She was lent to this library temporarily. But what if Nancy or Susan sent horrible
reports
back to her old boss about her?
She wouldn’t put it past them. She decided to call him after
getting ready for the day
and formulat
ed
key points for their conversation.

Just as she stepped out of her clothes and into the shower, the phone rang.
Damn it,
no
answering machine.
She hopped back out and
left a wet footprint trail as she
ran while wrapping a towel around herself.

Breathless and wet, she picked up her phone and answered, “Hello?”

“Ms. Dutton?” A rich baritone voice seemed to sing her name.

“This is she.”

“Hello, this is
Victor
Langdon, President of the Shelter Island Library Board.”

“Oh, hello sir.
You know,
I’m not supposed to be at the library today. I already cleared a day off to receive my belongings from moving.”

“I’m not calling to check up on you. I’m calling to ask you to come to a lunch meeting today. The board wants to extend a hearty welcome to you and thank you for filling in while we find a permanent solution to our staffing woes. I can’t begin to tell you how much we appreciate the machinations you’ve gone through just for us. Please join me at my home at one o’clock. There will be light cocktails served on the terrace overlooking the lake.”

“Wow, I mean thank you. That’s very generous of you and totally unnecessary, but I’ll be there. Just tell me your address please so I can arrange a taxi.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll send
my chauffeur
around for you. You may not be aware of who I am beyond
a
name
, Ms. Dutton,
but do a
simple
internet
search on
me
,
and
you will understand that this is
a mere trifling
in a day’s work. Enjoy the rest of your morning. I will see you shortly.”

She ran back to the shower and
shuffled
through the myriad of
facts stored in her brain from the countless hours of reading she’d accomplished during her tenure with the library system. As she shampooed her hair, she recalled an article in Forbes magazine about a business magnate with
the same
name who
’d
made a killing in the microchip industry.

He
was the Library Board President? Why would he
even
bother? Then again, Shelter Island was the convenient
second home
for many wealth
y
people.
You
had to have money to live here, or
work
for someone who owned property
. O
r like her,
you had to
provide a necessary service to the people living here
.
It reminded her of a symbiotic r
elationship where everyone needed
everyone else to survive.