Catherine LaRoche

Sighing, she headed back to work. She braced herself to lift the heavy lid of yet another trunk. The sight inside curled a small smile onto her lips, as it had with every trunk she__ pried open this morning.Books. More beautiful, precious books.

He saw with pleasure he__ been wrong. The nervous tension and vulnerability she radiated were real, but so too was the core of strength to her. She was simply too smart and too determined to let him get to her, despite the cost evident in her stiff back and tense mouth.He was beginning to quite like his new librarian.

Why are you kissing me?_ she squeaked out breathlessly.__od, how can I not?_ He ran his hands up and down her arms. __ think you__e made for me to kiss. I need to kiss you. You need to be kissed,_ he said firmly, as if he__ reached some decision that brooked no debate. This did not sound like the smooth-talking and self-possessed charmer of his reputation.

The truth was, she found it hard to look at the man. It was like gazing at the sun.

...You bring out the truth in me, Callista, and make me whole. I need you to set me free and give me the courage to be as strong as you are. I love you...

To her core, she suddenly knew she was not prepared to die at the hands of this worm. She had a betrothal ball to attend, wedding vows to declare, and a good man to love.