3. Bailey

While Katar strode around the attic, poking around the neatly stacked boxes and grunting, I stared in dismay at the papers and books lying on the floor near the right wall. Boxes had been stacked quite high there, and the contents had held a large collection. It was horrifying to see everything scattered about.

"How could someone do this?" I asked, my eyes stinging. It was silly, really, to cry about old things dumped on the floor without a care, but they belonged to the community. They were history and should be treated with respect.

Katar strode over to stand beside me, his hands on his narrow hips. When I sniffed, he awkwardly placed his arm around my shoulders and tugged me against his side.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Can you tell if anything's missing?"

"I'll have to do an inventory. I have a list on the computer in my office. Each box is carefully labeled with a number that corresponds with a document identifying its contents." I looked up at him. Gaped up at him, actually. "You're awfully big."

I felt comically small compared to him, like he could scoop me up and hold me in a way that would make feel protected. Cherished.

Sexy.

I'd given up on ever feeling sexy. If I was lucky, guys wanted a first kiss after a first date. Which wasn't a regular occurrence. My lips hadn't received any action in over a year. I guessed that proved how forgettable those first dates that didn't turn into second dates had been.

Oddly enough, I suspected I'd not only remember a first date with Katar, but also crave a second.

As for his kiss—

"As you pointed out, I'm an orc. We're all big." Wry humor came through in his voice, and when his darker green lips curled up around his tusks, I pretty much swooned.

"What's it like kissing with tusks?" The words came out before I could snatch them back, a strange occurrence for me. I was a sedate, consistent individual. I didn't take risks. I wasn't impulsive.

Yet I wanted to lean against him. Slide my fingertips across the back of his neck. Tug his head down close to mine and—

"I imagine it's the same as kissing without them." One corner of his full lips quirked even higher. "Want to give it a try and find out?"

Like I was gasoline-soaked tinder and him a lit match, I was set ablaze. "Oh, I . . . I . . ."

"Yes or no, sweetheart?"

His growly voice fanned the blaze.

"I . . ." Hold on for one second. How could I be thinking about how gorgeous he was and how much I wanted to kiss him when the library had been horribly violated? Helga Merryweather would never have found herself in a situation like this.

Helga Merryweather hadn't been matched with an orc who made her knees tremble either.

"I appreciate you being here with me," I said in a neutral voice.

"Does that mean no?"

I didn't want to say no. I wanted to say yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes. How did women let a guy know she was attracted to him?

"Raincheck?" I blurted out.

"Explain."

"It's a rather old term, originating in baseball in the 1800s. Spectators who attended games that were postponed or cancelled because of weather could receive a ticket to attend a future event. Thus, in this situation, it means perhaps not now but perhaps in the . . ."

Crap. Could I please stop talking?

As I spoke, his smile grew, and a devilish glint darkened his eyes. "Will I have to wait for it to rain to collect that kiss?"

"Perhaps just gusty weather."

Damn, I was flirting. Also something Helga Merryweather would never have done. For the first time, I realized my substitute mother had been a bit . . . stodgy. Reclusive.

As well as unkissed. She'd never married, and she told me once she was happy that she hadn't.

I'd mirrored my life after hers, but did I want to leave kissing this orc out of the equation?

I swallowed and tried to drag my mind back to the present. Kisses could wait for wind gusts. "I'd be terrified if I were facing this alone."

"As you said, you could call 9-1-1 once you'd plugged in your phone. The cops would come immediately."

"I should still call them. Notify them of this latest incident." I frowned. "Do you think they'll question me as extensively as they did after the theft of the orc manuscript? I was exhausted by the time they were finished."

"You told them the truth."

Why was he looking at me with vague suspicion?

"Of course I did. I held nothing back." I drew myself up stiffly and made myself back out from underneath his warm, muscular arm. "I didn't steal the book, and I didn't do this."

"Never said you did."

I deflated as quickly as I'd puffed up. "I'm sorry. I'm stressed. Overwhelmed by what happened six months ago, let alone now. Why would someone do something like this?"

"I assume they're connected."

"But how? We had one orc tome and nothing else of any value. Yes, we have first editions within the library, but they're not books someone couldn't pick up on eBay if they looked hard enough."

"That's what we're going to find out."

We? I liked that.

"Let's note the numbers on your boxes," he said. "And then we can go look at your inventory." He tipped his head toward the stairs. "Perhaps we can discover a clue when we know exactly what we're dealing with." He paused at the opening to the stairwell and took my hand again, his hooded gaze meeting mine. Flames swirled there.

Was he overheated?

"And after that . . ."

I held my breath.

He flashed me a tusky grin. "And then we can go outside and see if it"s gusty."