She pulled into her parking space, waved at Di Giorgio as she got out of the car, and almost laughed out loud at the surprised look on his face. She vowed then and there to be nicer to him in the future.

She nodded at the other workers as she moved through the library. They were a nice bunch of ladies. Most of them were in their forties or fifties and they all mothered her. A couple of them flirted with Frank. They grilled her about his private life and asked her to give Frank their phone numbers. Cara found it amusing. Secretly, she wished that Frank would call Mary Garfield, but Frank didn’t seem interested in Mary or any of the other women.

Cara spent the better part of the afternoon returning books to the proper shelves. As the day wore on, she caught herself constantly looking at the clock.

“You must have a big date tonight,” Sarah Beth Coleman remarked with a smile. Sarah Beth was Cara’s best friend. She was married to a police officer and pregnant with their first child.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve never known you to be a clock-watcher before. Have you met someone new?”

The ladies in the library were always asking her that, hoping she would find a “nice young man” and settle down.

“I have,” Cara said, unable to keep from smiling at the mere thought of him.

Sarah Beth took her by the hand and drew her deeper into the stacks. “What’s his name? What’s he like? When do I get to meet him?

Cara laughed. “I really don’t know anything about him. I just met him last night, but he seems wonderful. He’s so nice, and so handsome…”

“Sounds like love at first sight to me,” Sarah Beth said with a teasing grin.

“Was that how it was with you and Dean?”

Sarah Beth nodded. “Yes. I took one look at him and I knew he was the one.”

“I’m meeting Vince tonight after work. I can hardly wait.”

Sarah Beth gave her a quick hug. “I’ll expect a full report tomorrow.”

Around eight-thirty, things slowed down. Cara sat at her desk, idly drawing hearts and writing her name and Vince’s inside. It was such a high-school kind of thing to do, but she couldn’t seem to stop, couldn’t help noticing how well their names looked together. She drew a new heart and wrote Mr. and Mrs. Cordova inside.

Vince. She didn’t know anything about him except how he made her feel.

At five minutes to nine, she cleared her desk and grabbed her coat, told the ladies good night, and practically bolted out the door. Frank Di Giorgio wasn’t far behind.

It was nine-thirteen when she pulled up in front of The Nocturne. No doubt she would get a serious lecture from Di Giorgio about the dangers of speeding sometime in the near future, but she’d worry about that later.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she applied fresh lipstick, ran a brush through her hair, took a deep breath, and then got out of the car.

Di Giorgio followed her as she walked under the black canopy and down the stairs. The man in the hooded black cloak looked her over carefully, then murmured, “Welcome back, mistress.”

Cara smiled faintly, thinking his raspy voice sounded like it belonged to someone who had been dead for a hundred years.

She stopped inside the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light, then walked around the edge of the dance floor to the bar. There was a vacant stool at the end and she sat down, her gaze moving around the room.

What if he didn’t show up?

“Hey, it’s about time you got here.”

Startled, she almost fell off the bar stool. “Vince! Where did you come from?”

“My mama?”

“Very funny. How did you sneak up on me like that?”

“Dunno. Just quiet on my feet, I guess.” He smiled a roguish smile. “You’re early.”

“So are you.”

“I know. I couldn’t wait.” His gaze moved over her from head to foot. She looked good enough to eat, he thought. Literally. She smelled good, too, like a fragrant breeze on a warm summer day.

“Me, either.”

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Not very productive. I kept returning books to the wrong shelf.”

“Why is that?”

Her gaze slid away from his. “I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was meeting you.”

“Ah, Cara.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Damn, he wanted to take her home and make love to her all night long, and that was just wrong, because she wasn’t the kind of girl to settle for a one-night stand and he couldn’t offer her any more than that.

Damn! What was he doing here? There was no way they could have any kind of relationship. She was everything that was good and pure and he…he should be staked for what he was thinking!

“Vince, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Did I say something to make you mad?”

“No, darlin’.”

Darlin’. The word wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold night. No one had ever called her darlin’ before.

Vince muttered an oath. He had to end this now, before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life—and that could be a hell of a long time. “I’ve got to go.”

“Go?” She looked up at him. “But I thought…”

The disappointment in her eyes was like a dagger piercing his soul. “I’m sorry, Cara. I…” Dammit, what could he say to wipe that little girl lost look from her eyes?

“It’s all right,” she said quickly, and he could almost see her defensive walls springing into place.

“Cara, listen…”

“Hey, Cara, I was hoping you’d be here.”

Turning her back on Vince, she pasted a smile of welcome on her face. “Hello, Anton. It’s so good to see you,” she said with feigned enthusiasm.

Vince ground his back teeth together. Damn the man. The jerk’s timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Cara…” Vince laid his hand on her arm.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Oh, are you still here? I thought you were leaving.”

Vince nodded. Maybe it was better this way. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the club.

Cara stared after him a moment, the ache she felt inside almost too much to bear. She had spent the whole day looking forward to being with Vince. She had hoped…what had she hoped? That he would be her knight in shining armor? That he would fall head-over-heels in love with her and carry her off to his castle? What a fool she had been. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.




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