The Librarian Principle (3 page)

Ryder’s eyes went wide with mock horror. “How would I ever maintain order if the students found out I’d gone soft?”

“There would be absolute chaos,” she replied, expression somber. “Food fights in the cafeteria.”

“Overdue library books,” he whispered.

“Oh, the insanity!” Liese grinned, the tension dissipating.

“Come see me at the end of the day, and we can set up a first meeting.” Ryder moved past her, the back of his hand skimming her hip as he departed down the aisle.

Liese watched him leave, both elated and troubled. She’d gotten what she wanted; he’d agreed to be her advisor. But the feelings he evoked were still problematic. She’d be spending more time with him now, alone. If there hadn’t been reason to fret before, there certainly was now.

“I have a meeting with the principal tomorrow after work, so I’ll be late getting into the city,” Liese told Marissa, over the phone. The apology was implied.

It had been a few weeks since their last visit, and she was beginning to experience withdrawal. Leaving later wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though; she wouldn’t have to contend with the worst of rush-hour traffic in NYC.

Liese put Marissa on speakerphone as she rummaged in her underwear drawer. She picked up a lacy, white thong and debated the merits of wearing sexy lingerie under her clothes when Ryder would never see it. Something about wrapping her best assets in pretty things made her feel empowered. Confidence inspired by lace and satin, as it were.

“Didn’t you just have one last week?” Marissa asked. Liese could practically hear her wheels of perversion turning.

“We meet weekly.” She searched for the matching bra and held up the two pieces together. If her blouse weren’t white, she would have opted for her navy pinstriped set, or maybe something black. She could wear a sweater vest to hide them, but then she’d be too warm, as being in his presence gave her hot flashes.

“Is that normal?”

“Um, I guess? I’m not really sure because I’ve never had an advisor before, but I’ve been doing a lot of research. I want to get this literacy project up and running before second semester. Based on the research studies, it will improve test scores on the state exams in the spring. He’s completely supportive of the initiative, and he’s the one who arranges the meetings, so I assume it’s common practice. We’ll probably meet less often once the logistics are worked out.” Liese frowned at the thought. She rather enjoyed her frequent meetings with Ryder.

“Okay, whatever you say, most of that sounded like nerd gibberish to me. But I find it interesting that he plans these meetings for Friday afternoons.”

“He has a busy schedule; the end of the week works for him.” Liese moved to her closet and pulled out a navy skirt and freshly pressed blouse.

“Don’t you find it suspect that this hot, sexy man has nothing better to do with his time than meet his advisee afterhours on a Friday?” Marissa pressed.

“Don’t even start. He’s not interested in me like that. It’s strictly a professional relationship.” Liese twirled a lock of hair around her fingers as she surveyed her shoe selection. “Red heels or navy pumps?”

“Red heels, obviously. And I call bullshit on the professional relationship. No man gives up his Friday for the welfare of the education system, no matter how devoted he is to the cause. Besides, you’re so hot for this guy you’re on fire,
and
you’re asking me about footwear.”

“Navy pumps it is. It’s an hour of his Friday afternoon, not the evening. And it doesn’t matter if I find him attractive; nothing is going to happen.” The latter half of that statement had become her mantra. Liese rationalized that if she told herself often enough, eventually she would adopt it as truth.

“You keep saying that like you think I’m going to buy it, and don’t you dare wear pumps. Why do you even have pumps? Those shouldn’t be an option. Ever.” Liese prepared to defend her footwear, but Marissa cut her off. “Just send me a message when you’re done being bent over Ride-Me’s desk tomorrow—or whatever the hell it is you two do during these so-called meetings.”

“Marissa!” Liese didn’t know what was more undignified, Marissa’s new nickname for Ryder, or how much she personally appreciated the image of being bent over his desk.

“See you tomorrow!” A dial tone followed, leaving Liese shaking her head.

Since Ryder had agreed to be her advisor over a month ago, they’d been meeting regularly after school. It wasn’t unusual for staff to stay well past the end of the school day for a variety of extracurriculars, so Liese hadn’t thought much of it. Friday seemed like a logical option, as most school meetings took place between Monday and Thursday. Besides, as an administrator, Ryder often had late meetings beyond those, and Liese was only too willing to work with what his schedule demanded.

The problem was, what had started as a harmless attraction was turning into a full-on infatuation. After each meeting, Liese would psychoanalyze their conversation, dissecting every glance and scrutinizing every touch, looking for some verification that the connection she swore she felt was real. It was beginning to drive her batty. And Marissa wasn’t much help with her constant flow of photoshopped images.

The following morning, Liese spent an unconscionable amount of time primping before she left for work. Despite her preparations the day before, she changed her underwear three times; berating herself all the while because she continued to indulge in the ridiculous fantasy that Ryder might have romantic inclinations toward her. Still, she finally settled on the white satin and lace, complete with thigh-high stockings and garters. She was such a masochist. Even if Principal Whitehall felt something beyond collegial friendship, he was far too in control to ever act on the impulse.

By the end of the day, Liese’s state of being hovered somewhere between nauseated and anticipatory as the final bell rang and students vacated the building, chattering happily about their weekend plans. Her office line rang just as she was about to lock up the library, and she smiled when the principal’s extension came up. Her stomach twisted as she reached for the receiver, and she chastised herself for getting worked up. He was probably checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten their meeting. As if she could.

It turned out he wanted to relocate the meeting to her office, as his secretary was staying late, and he didn’t want any interruptions. That was fine with her; the more privacy the better.

She checked her appearance in the compact mirror she kept in her desk drawer and applied a fresh layer of lip gloss. Coincidentally, she’d started keeping makeup at work after Ryder had agreed to be her advisor. The concealer she put on helped hide her under-eye circles from lack of sleep—thanks to her edginess. Her excitement over the impending meeting was too pervasive to be healthy. She ran her fingers through her hair, embarrassed by the amount of time she’d spent on it this morning with a curling iron. Ryder had once commented that he liked it wavy. She felt pathetic about the way such offhand remarks stuck with her.

Liese was in the middle of adjusting her skirt when her phone chimed. She dug in her purse and found Marissa had sent her a message. Against her better judgment, she checked it. There was no text, only a photo, and it was too small in the message window to adequately discern the content. She clicked the image, and it expanded on the screen.

A noise that sounded vaguely like a cat dying escaped her. Marissa had done it again. Ryder’s head was superimposed onto the body of yet another well-hung porn star, and this time the image also included a woman—superimposed with Liese’s face—sprawled out over a desk, much like the one she stood in front of now.

“Hi there.”

Liese screamed, caught completely unaware. She turned to find Ryder standing in her office doorway, leaning against the jamb, his coat thrown over his arm, briefcase in hand. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, giving him a more relaxed look than usual. And sexier. If that was possible.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “You seemed rather invested in whatever you were reading just now.”

Liese hit the button on her phone, and the screen went blank. “It was my girlfriend,” she explained.

Ryder stared at her, unblinking.

At his lack of reaction, she elaborated. “My best friend—she’s expecting me later this evening. She was just checking in.”

“Oh.” He sounded relieved. “Am I keeping you? We can reschedule for next week if you need to go.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m happy to meet with you, unless you have another engagement.” Liese slid her phone back into her purse, turning off the volume as she did so.

“I have no prior engagements.”

Their eyes locked on each other for a few interminable seconds before Liese realized they were on her territory, and she should invite him in. “Would you like to work in my office or out there?” Liese gestured to the empty library beyond.

He glanced over his shoulder and then surveyed their current surroundings. “I think your office would be more private.”

“Sure. Right.” Liese nodded, clutching the back of her chair.

“Unless you’d be more comfortable working out there,” he supplied, watching her from his spot in the doorway.

“What? Oh, no. Not at all. I’m perfectly comfortable with you in me.”

His shock formed a counterpoint to her horror.

“In my office! I’m perfectly comfortable working with you
in my office
.” Heat crawled up her chest to find a home in her cheeks. “I need some water, can I get you anything?” she asked.

It was best to pretend she hadn’t made that comment. Though she could have sworn she heard him chuckle as he hung up his coat and dropped his briefcase beside her desk . . . She opened one of the overhead cupboards, filled mostly with school supplies, and retrieved two glasses. Her hands shook as she held each of them beneath the spout on the water cooler.

“Liese.” Ryder was right beside her, the smell of his cologne a heady intoxication as she inhaled deeply. She needed to get a handle on her emotions before she managed to embarrass herself further. Usually she could maintain better control of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He gently pried the glass from her hand and set it on the desk. “Don’t be. I’m not offended.”

“I didn’t mean to . . . I shouldn’t have . . . sometimes you make me nervous,” she blurted. “Damnit. Why can’t I just shut the hell up?”

Ryder burst out laughing.

“I’m so glad my humiliation amuses you,” Liese said.

Ryder reached around her for the half-filled glass, his arm sliding against her back, completely disarming her. The physical contact was accidental—of course it was—but it still had an impact. She should be used to the way his presence affected her by now. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself these were just meetings between professionals, her body and her mind seemed to exist on two separate planes, and neither conferred with the other. Hence she couldn’t speak without it coming out all wrong.

“I apologize. Shall we start again?” he asked, fighting a smile.

Liese gave him a baleful glare.

Ryder ignored it and topped off the glass, handing it to Liese. “How was your day, Ms. Harper?”

“Horrible,” she said into the cup.

“Oh? Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really. Thanks for asking.”

“I see.” He paused. When she said nothing, he nudged her with his elbow. “This would be a good time to ask me how my day was, since we’re being cordial with each other.”

“How was your day, Mr. Whitehall?”

“It’s Ryder.”

“You called me Ms. Harper,” Liese pointed out.

“My mistake, Annaliese.”

“Liese.”

“Liese.”

“Would you stop it!” Liese flicked the lapel of his suit jacket in exasperation, her embarrassment diffused. He was good at that: relieving the tension in an awkward moment. They’d certainly had enough of them during their meetings.

“That’s better. I’ll take you feisty over subdued any day. Shall we get down to business?” Ryder gestured to her desk, where she’d laid out her research prior to his arrival.

There was something in his comment . . . while not overt, Liese caught a subtle undertone of implication. Or maybe she was reading too much into things again.