Before Jamaica Lane (On Dublin Street, #3)(23)

Nate took this in and then straightened from his position against the footboard. ‘I’m working the next few days, but on Thursday night I’ll come back over and we’ll continue.’

I bobbed my head in agreement.

‘I hope you’re feeling more confident.’ He shot me another cocky smile.

Sighing, I looked back at the mirror. ‘It’s nice to know there are guys out there who might think how you think, Nate. But not all guys are like you. I’ve seen you.’ I smiled sadly back at him. ‘You find women, in general, attractive. It’s not a bad thing. It’s a great thing. I wish all men were as easy to please.’

Nate shook his head, looking a little impatient. ‘I’m not attracted to all women. Believe me.’ He took a step closer to me, so close I had to tilt my head back a little to meet his eyes, eyes that now smoldered in a way that caused the breath to hitch in my throat. ‘If you were just some woman in a bar, I’d pick you out from all the others, take you home, and f*ck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk straight in the morning.’

I gulped.

In fact, I think I might have had a little mini-orgasm.

‘Olivia?’

‘Got it.’ I managed a whisper. ‘You think I’m attractive.’

His lips twitched again, his dark eyes bright with amusement. ‘But do you?’

Eyes wide, I nodded rapidly. ‘Oh, I’m definitely getting there now.’

Breaking out into a huge grin, Nate smacked my ass playfully before heading for the door. ‘Good. See you Thursday, babe.’




7

Great hair, stunning eyes, gorgeous skin, f*cking knockout smile, great tits, nice arse, and long, sexy legs. Fuckable. Very, very f*ckable.

Nate’s voice kept ringing in my head during quiet moments. It had ever since Monday night. Every time I remembered his compliments I flushed with pleasure, smiling goofily, and then overanalyzed whether or not he meant it. Something I’m sure he’d be pissed off to learn. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like my confidence in my looks was suddenly going to grow overnight because the gorgeous Nate Sawyer said he found me attractive.

Okay, so I wasn’t lying when I told him it helped.

It definitely helped.

Or at least it put me in a good mood for the next few days.

‘Did you hear that Jude and Mari from Special Collections are getting married?’ Ronan, one of my colleagues, asked me as we sat eating lunch in the staff room together.

Thinking about that harridan Mari, I replied dryly, ‘How nice for them.’

‘Jesus, you can hold a grudge,’ he chuckled, munching his sandwich while he texted his wife. I knew he was texting his wife because the two of them were addicted to texting each other throughout the workday. They’d been married five years and still acted like newlyweds.

My mouth parted in indignation. ‘She was horrible to me.’

Special Collections was on the sixth floor of the library and could be accessed only by appointment. It was run by the rare-books staff – Jude, Mari, and a small group of colleagues who were trained in dealing with old and rare books. It was a pretty cool job, and by all accounts a pretty cool place. When I’d first started working at the library I’d asked Mari for a tour. I was promptly told that ordinary staff were not allowed in unless they had an appointment, and the appointment had to be for a legitimate reason.

‘This isn’t a small-town library, Miss Holloway,’ she’d sneered over her glasses at me. ‘And even if it was, what would a provincial like you find of merit in Special Collections?’

Ronan snorted as I reminded him what she’d said to me. ‘You’ve got to give her points for getting the word “provincial” into the sentence.’

‘Oh, you know she meant “American.” Elitist …’

‘Elitist what?’

‘Nothing,’ I mumbled, dipping my head to my e-reader again. ‘My mom always said if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.’

‘My mum always said if you can’t say something nice, say something memorable.’

I laughed. ‘I might steal that.’

The door to the staff room flew open and our colleague Wendy strolled in. She was grinning huge. ‘I just got asked out again by another student. This place is brilliant for my self-esteem. I can’t believe I didn’t think to come here sooner.’ She shrugged as she got a plastic cup of water from the water dispenser. ‘Of course, the fact that it’s the third time I’ve been hit on by a woman is a little puzzling.’

Sneaking a look at Ronan I saw him struggling not to laugh, which of course set me off. Once I lost control, he started laughing too. Wendy was a thirty-three-year-old wife and mother of two. She was attractive, friendly, funny, and just plain old nice. And apparently a hit with the ladies.

She watched us chuckle with a good-natured smile on her face. ‘What? Do you think I’m doing something to encourage it?’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. Just take it as the compliment it is.’

‘You should know.’ Ronan smirked at me. ‘You’re always getting hit on.’

My eyebrows puckered together. ‘By barely out-of-their-adolescence boys who will screw anything as long as it has boobs and a vagina attached to it.’