As his hand brushed hers, she pulled back, hoping that it didn't jerk as much as her mind exaggerated the movement, his skin soft as it caressed hers. "Well, I figure you'll always be older than I am, right? That should provide me a lifetime of witty jokes and amused comebacks." She reached out and trailed her fingers lightly along the spines of the books, loving the feel of worn leather under her fingertips. "I manage." In actuality she owned the store fully and her only bills were electricity and the like. "Besides I don't do it for money."
The conversation was straying to her so she smiled and changed the subject. "And so what business are you in? Nightclub, strip club, bar? Those certainly seem the most lucrative in this city anymore." Why was she striking up a conversation? Stay quiet and let him leave, let him forget all about the mousy girl in the book store. Was she really so lonely since her grandfather's death that she would banish common sense? Or was it simply because he bore a striking resemblance to the man who haunted her dreams?
The tinkling of the bells as the door opened stopped her before she could finish her train of thought and a perky blond waltzed inside, purpose in her step and her eyes locked on the gentleman in front of her. "Or perhaps a failed escort service," she said under her breath, trying not to laugh at the look of pure fury on the woman's face.