In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

Before I can decide which one of those two things would be worse, my feet are automatically moving me around the counter and in his direction. I try to silently scream at them to stop and turn back around, but they won’t listen. It’s like he has some sort of magnetic pull on me.

“I didn’t know you could read.”

I want to smack my hand over my mouth the minute I make it to his table and the words leave my mouth.

He slowly brings his head up, and instead of pressing my hand against my mouth, I press it against my stomach when his eyes meet mine.

Damn those eyes and the way they study me!

“I’m sorry. That was rude. Of course you can read. I mean, you probably had to read to get your driver’s license. And to fill out a job application at Charming’s,” I blurt like an idiot, wringing my hands together nervously. “Did you know approximately thirty-two million adults in America are considered to be illiterate and about fourteen percent of the entire adult population can’t read? On a global scale, illiteracy affects seven hundred and seventy-four million adults aged fifteen or older. Among developed nations, the U.S. ranks sixteenth for adult reading skills.”

For the love of God, Belle, stop talking!

“Beast can read. Beast like books,” he replies in a clipped voice, with a straight face.

It takes me a few seconds to realize he just made a joke, and I can’t help but smile sheepishly.

“I can read. I like books too,” I reply lamely.

He continues staring at me, and I can’t stand the silence, so I open my mouth again because his stupid eyes are making me do stupid things.

“I read everything, but I really love romances. Do you like romances? They’re so beautiful and hopeful and sweet.”

“Romance isn’t really my thing,” he finally says, his eyes still glued to mine.

“Well, what is your thing?”

“Peace and quiet,” he mutters.

So much for what Mrs. Potter said about him coming in here to see me. Clearly the man just wanted a quiet place to read a book. A few months ago, that thought would have probably discouraged me and made me feel silly, but now it just irritates me. Who does he think he is, being all rude like that when I’m just trying to make conversation?

“Well, too bad, buddy. You’re in my place of business,” I inform him, looking down at the watch on my wrist. “And we are now officially closed. The door’s that way.”

I point towards the door before turning on my heels and marching back to the reference desk.

A few seconds later, the scrape of Beast’s chair sliding against the hardwood floor as he pushes away from the table echoes around the room. He doesn’t look in my direction as he gets up and slides his book back on the shelf where he got it instead of just leaving it on the table for me to put away, making me realize maybe he isn’t such an animal, even if his conversation skills are lacking.

My heart stops beating a mile a minute when he finally walks out the door. I really, really have to get the experience I need, and fast. Not only to save this library, but to save me from making a fool of myself again in front of one of the hottest and most annoying men I’ve ever met.

Chapter 3: Match Made in Heaven

“OH, MY GOD, BELLE! WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”

I jerk upright in my chair when a voice screams in my ear, my fuzzy, sleep-addled brain causing me to frantically pat my hands down the front of my body. I let out a thankful breath when I realize I am in fact, still fully clothed, and glare at Ariel.

“Christ, you’re so gullible,” she laughs.

Rolling my eyes, I glance across Cindy’s kitchen table and give her a sheepish smile.

“I fell asleep again, didn’t I?”

Cindy reaches over and pats the top of my hand.

“It’s okay, we weren’t doing anything important.”

“The hell we weren’t,” Ariel interjects, grabbing the laptop from in front of Cindy and sliding it over to our side of the table so I can see the screen. “Do you see all these bookings we’ve gotten over the last few weeks? And do you see that our dear friend Cindy looks like absolute shit from doing them all on her own?”

“Hey!” Cindy interrupts. “I do NOT look like shit. And it’s fine. PJ draws me a bubble bath and gives me a massage on the nights I have more than one party, so I’m actually benefiting in more ways than one from the extra work.”

She gives me a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to make me feel better. She might not look like shit, with her beautiful, long blonde hair that’s been stylishly curled into soft waves and a light dusting of makeup that highlights her gorgeous blue eyes and perfect features, but she definitely looks tired.