John pulled himself from the floor, dusted off his khakis, and walked towards her work station. Victoria’s space held a pristine collection of books, perfectly stacked and arranged in straight rows. She was rather proud of the work she was doing. Once her boxes were emptied, she had planned to put the books in alphabetical order on a nearby cart. She was really looking forward to that part. That’s why it made her nervous when John approached her work station. His makeshift corner of the basement looked hazardous. His piles of books were balanced in precarious positions, small to large, threatening to topple over. “Oh nothing,” he said, running his large hands over her work. “I thought we would talk about tonight.”

“I’d like that very much.” Victoria watched as he moved one book out of place, before moving to the next stack. He picked up a picture book, looked it over, and placed it in the wrong pile. “Ooh, you know what? I’ll handle this bit and you can handle your situation.” She straightened her stack and moved one of the books just a smidge, putting it right back in its place.

His deep Viking laughter grew louder. “Dr. Reese, you’re being nitpicky.”

“No, I’m just—please don’t touch that,” Victoria said, shielding the books with her body. “Mr. Donovan, you’re messing things up.”

Having placed herself between him and her work, Victoria found herself much closer to him. She bumped into the solid wall of his muscular chest as she straightened up what he had moved. “No one in the history of library work has enjoyed this task as much as you do. That disturbs me.” He lifted the thick curtain of her box braids away from her shoulder to expose her worried face.

“Whatever the job is,” she said, turning to face him, “I like to do it right.”

“Right? Or Perfectly?” he countered. He stood over her, one hand on his hip and the other on her stack of Eloise in Moscow. It was difficult to argue with a man whose expression was a mixture of mirth and lust. John’s pine-green eyes twinkled as he stared down at her. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or if he wanted to kiss her. Victoria found herself okay with both. Perhaps she was being a little too protective of her collection of children’s literature.

“You got me,” she sighed. “I like perfection if it’s possible.”

“As do I,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m looking at her right now.”