He was trying to make sure she was all right without really asking, wasn’t he? His concern filled her with lightness. “There’s only Mother. I was artificially conceived.” The unhappiness she’d felt as a child when realizing she’d never know her father had diminished to a mild ache.

She smiled slightly at Gabe’s startled expression. “She didn’t want to be bothered with a husband. Instead, she simply chose the smartest sperm donor in the manual or however it’s done.”

“I see. And does your mother know where you are?”

“No. We haven’t spoken in years, since I refused to follow in her footsteps and major in physics. She’s in Germany somewhere, I think.”

Gabe frowned. “I’m sorry, but she sounds like a robot. The idea of you being deprived of fiction, something so essential to humans, bothers me.”

“It wasn’t—”

Putting two fingers under her chin, he tilted her head up and kissed her. Sheer shock silenced her.

He made a low masculine sound and then pinned her against the shelving. He curved his big hand behind her head, threading his fingers in her hair, holding her for a long, devastating kiss.

Every bone in her body turned to jelly. His other arm went around her waist, holding her up against him.

Her arms stole around his neck, and as she wiggled closer, her breasts crushed against his muscular chest. He hardened.

The sound of footsteps made him step back, and the electrician walked past.

Gabe smiled down into her eyes as he used his thumb to wipe the moisture from her lower lip.

“Gabe,” she whispered. Longing rushed through her, a desire to break down and tell him everything. To destroy all the barriers between them. “I can’t.” Can’t share, can’t be with you.

“It’s all right, Goldilocks.” His midnight blue eyes conveyed infinite patience. He kissed her lightly again. “Don’t forget you have coffee on the counter.”

As he walked silently back toward the front, she leaned against the bookshelves.

Oh God, what was she going to do? The man had decided to hold off and wait for her to trust him.

And oh, she wanted to.

Chapter Eighteen

On Friday, a week and a half after Lillian’s dinner, the library opened its doors. Well, door. Upstairs in the municipal building.

Kneeling beside the shelves in the children’s section, Audrey sighed in pleasure. It didn’t matter if the library was merely a big room of book stacks and a tiny office behind the checkout desk.

The essentials were here.

The computer section—a table with three computers. The research section—a few tables with folding chairs. A children’s area holding tiny tables for children with bigger chairs for mothers. Armchairs near the periodical racks for quiet reading.

Speaking of which, she needed to get the periodical subscriptions restarted.

Yes, the library was small. But it was hers.