By the Book

Chapter Two

Whoever had said that owning a home was easy had obviously never owned one. Not that she didn’t love her new house, because she did. Amanda loved the fact that it had stood for a hundred years. It had history. It was the same thing that she loved about the antiquarian book business—the sense of history, of connection with the past.

She loved the thick moldings in every room and the hand-carved newel post at the bottom of the stairs. She absolutely adored the scuffed hardwood floors and the large slab of oak that acted as a mantelpiece over the tiny stone fireplace in the living room.

Sure, it all needed work and a little tender loving care, but that was fine by her. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. Was looking forward to it. She’d even stopped by the hardware store and picked up some paint chips the day before. There were so many colors to choose from.

No, the fact that it needed some work wasn’t the problem. She loved her new home.

What she didn’t like was the finicky electrical system.

Amanda grabbed her flashlight and opened the door to the basement. Holding tight to the railing, she took a deep breath and started down the rickety steps. This was definitely something she’d have to have fixed. Eventually. Right now, she had bigger concerns. Namely that two of the electrical outlets in the front room didn’t work.

She was praying it was just a tripped breaker, but she was very much afraid it was something more.

“You checked on the plumbing before you bought the place because you wanted to make sure you had plenty of hot water, but you didn’t think to check on the electrical system,” she muttered as she shone the flashlight into the gloom.

She hated basements. They were dark and dingy and sometimes damp. They almost always had a musty, closed-up smell about them, and this one was no different.

If she remembered correctly, there was a light switch at the bottom of the stairs.

Something else she needed to add to her to-do list. She definitely needed a switch at the top of the stairs.

Flashing the light along the wall near the bottom, she gave a crow of triumph when she found what she was looking for. “Gotcha.” She flicked the switch and smiled when the bare bulb came to life. “Damn it,” she muttered when it flickered out two seconds later.

She almost retreated up the stairs, but held her ground. “You’re a homeowner now,”

she reminded herself. “You’ve got to learn how to deal with these things.”

Amanda swore she could practically hear Seymour telling her to buck up and get on with it. “Too bad you’re not here, you old goat. I’d make you do this.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them back. Seymour wouldn’t want her to cry. Even on his deathbed, he hadn’t wanted her tears. “I’ve lived a long and interesting life, girl. I’ve got no regrets. Now it’s time for you to live life to the fullest.”

When she’d protested, he’d scowled at her. “Don’t think I don’t know the only reason you’ve stuck around here all these years is because of me. You don’t need to have some old man taking up all your time. You’re young. You need to get out there in the world and live a little.”

Amanda rubbed her eyes as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Seymour had been family. The only one she’d every really had. After shuffling from foster home to foster home for most of her life, Amanda had been emancipated at the age of eighteen.

As a birthday gift, she’d been booted out of the home she’d been living in for the last six months, as the state would no longer pay for her upkeep.

Alone and desperate, Amanda had answered an ad in the local paper. It had simply said, “Assistant wanted.”

She’d been fascinated by Seymour Morton and his books from the moment she’d stepped into his jam-packed store on Mission Road. Books had always been Amanda’s escape from reality. The thought of being able to make a living and support herself while being around books was intriguing and very appealing.

Seymour had taken one look at Amanda and scowled at her. She’d scowled right back at him. Tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, he was an intimidating sight with his wild shock of white hair and his bushy white mustache. But she didn’t care. She’d been in the foster care system too long to show fear. To show fear was to give another person power over you, power they usually abused.

The strangest thing had happened then. Rather than be angry with her for scowling at him, he’d smiled, flashing two gold teeth in the front. “You’ve got spunk. I like that.”

From that day forth, she’d worked beside him, soaking up all his knowledge, which he’d shared freely. He’d become her teacher, her friend and the family she’d never had.

Now he was gone and she was alone again.

“Buck up, Amanda.” She walked down the final step and moved into the basement, flashing the light along the wall. The electrical box was somewhere on her left. She remembered that much from when she’d toured the house before she bought it. “You’re having an adventure.”

Although, this was the kind of adventure she could have done without. She shivered as a cold draft skated over her face. No doubt about it, she didn’t want to be down here, especially with nothing more than a flashlight.

She quickened her pace. The faster she found out the problem, the faster she could get out of here. The electrical box was right where she remembered it. Holding the light steady, she opened it and peered inside. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss.

This was so not good. Why hadn’t she checked the electrical system before she bought the house? “Because you were so in love with the house you would have bought it no matter what,” she muttered.

Slamming the door to the panel shut, she whirled around and bolted for the stairs.

What she needed was an expert. The electrical system was nothing to fool around with.

She needed to make certain she wouldn’t fry her computer system. That definitely wouldn’t be good for business.

The light in the kitchen seemed unusually bright after the pitch darkness of the basement and Amanda blinked several times to accustom her eyes. The mug of coffee she’d poured before she’d gone downstairs still sat on the kitchen counter. She laid aside the flashlight and picked up her mug, taking a large swallow. She hoped it would chase away the cold shivers.

She’d unpacked the coffee pot, supplies and her large sunflower motif mug first thing this morning. Amanda couldn’t imagine starting her day without coffee. After Elizabeth and her sexy brother, Jonah, had left yesterday, Amanda had spent the remainder of the afternoon making notes and running to the local stores. She’d bought cleaning supplies and some basic groceries, most of which were still in bags.

Her plan this morning had been to start cleaning the kitchen before she unpacked enough pots and dishes to get by on. She wanted to paint before she settled in.

Yes, she still had to work, but a couple hours a day on her laptop would take care of everything that needed to be dealt with. She’d worked hard preparing for this move during the past few months since Seymour’s death, and she had scheduled several weeks off to allow for painting and minor repairs.

She guessed this qualified as a minor repair. At least she hoped it was minor. She had a sneaking suspicion it would be anything but.

The big question was, who did she call?

She laid down her mug and stared at the boxes and bags piled in the middle of the kitchen. “Where did I put that phone book?” A quick search turned up absolutely nothing.

Amanda was slightly disgusted with herself. She was usually much better organized, but she’d been a bit scattered lately.

Picking up her cell phone, she dialed the one number in town she knew by heart. At the last second, she checked her watch and swore under her breath. It was only quarter to eight in the morning.

“Stone Manor, how may I help you?” A deep voice reverberated through the phone line. At least Cyndi’s husband, Shamus, was up and around.

Cyndi O’Rourke was the reason that Amanda had moved to Jamesville. She’d met the woman almost a year ago when she’d handled the library of her late father’s estate.

They’d become immediate friends. Cyndi hadn’t been married to Shamus then, but Amanda had known it would happen. A blind man could see how much in love the two of them were.

Amanda smiled. “Morning, Shamus. How are you this morning?”

He laughed. “Morning, Amanda. I’m good. How are you doing? Settling into your new home?”

She wrapped one arm around her waist and looked around, still unable to believe that this was all hers. “I’m a little overwhelmed, but I’m loving it.” She paused and added truthfully, “Well, most of it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” She wrinkled her nose when she noticed a smudge of dirt on her hand. Great. She’d probably picked it up from the stair railing or the electrical box itself.

That probably meant she had dirt on her face too.

“Two of the outlets in the office don’t work. When I went to check out the problem, the bulb at the bottom of the stairs went out. That could just be a bulb, but I’m not counting on that. I need an electrician to come and check everything out. Can you give me the name of someone local to call?” As a contractor, Shamus knew everyone in the construction business. He’d know who was reliable and honest.

“I’m just on my way out the door, why don’t I swing by and take a look?”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

Shamus snorted. “No bother.” He paused and Amanda could hear a female voice in the background. “Oh, and Cyndi says she’s expecting you for supper tonight.”

A feeling of well-being enveloped her. It didn’t matter that Shamus and Cyndi had been her friends for almost a year now, she was still taken aback by their innate kindness.

It was something she’d never take for granted. Kindness had been in short supply for most of her life. “I’ll be there.”

“See you in a few.” Shamus hung up and Amanda closed her cell phone, shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans.

She’d had some doubts about this move. About packing up her apartment, the only place she’d lived since she was eighteen, but the time had been right for a move. Besides which, she hadn’t had a choice. Seymour had owned the building and his will had stipulated that all his property be sold. She’d had three months to get her affairs in order and move. Even in death, he was still trying to direct her life.

She could smile about it now, but at the time she’d been devastated. She felt as if she’d been kicked out of the only home she’d ever known, the only place that had truly been hers. Then, a month later, an official letter had arrived in the mail, informing her that Seymour had made her the beneficiary of his entire estate. All the money from the sale of his property, his investments and his life insurance policy were all hers. Even after taxes, she was left with a hefty amount of money.

He’d also left her his entire stock of books.

But it was the letter he’d left her that had meant the most to her. A gruff man, not given to displays of emotion, he’d told her she was like a granddaughter to him. He’d encouraged her to spread her wings and fly. So she had. All the way to Jamesville.

And she didn’t regret her decision. She’d been back several times since her original trip here. Once on business and twice for pleasure. It was on her last trip that Cyndi had encouraged her to move here. With Seymour gone, she didn’t have any ties to her home in Vermont any more. It had been surprisingly easy to make the decision.

With the stock from Seymour’s store, Amanda knew she could make a fresh start and buy a house of her own. If it hadn’t been for the financial stake he’d given her, she’d be fretting about the repairs. Not that she could afford to be loose with her money, but she could easily afford to do whatever renovations needed to be done.

A bell chimed, making her jump. She glanced at her watch. She’d been woolgathering for fifteen minutes. That was probably Shamus.

Hurrying out of the kitchen and down the short hallway, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, a smile on her face. But it wasn’t Shamus on the other side. Her smile slowly faded. “What are you doing here?”

Jonah couldn’t stop staring at Amanda. Her hair was once again caught at her nape in a ponytail. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and there was a smudge of dirt on her nose and another on her cheek. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched daintily on her nose, giving her a studious appearance. She hadn’t been wearing them the first time he’d met her so he assumed she must wear contact lenses at least part of the time. She looked good enough to eat and he hadn’t had any breakfast yet. He’d left home the second he’d gotten Shamus’s phone call.

“Can I come in?” His voice was rough with arousal, but he was hoping she wouldn’t notice. Thankfully, he’d left his shirt untucked and the tails covered most of the front of his jeans, hiding the hard ridge there. His fingers tightened around the handle of his toolbox.

She was wearing a pair of faded jeans that fit her like a glove. The material lovingly caressed her curvy thighs and waist. Her green V-neck T-shirt was modest enough, but it hinted at the firm, rounded breasts beneath it.

Amanda frowned at him and glanced back toward the road. Her eyes widened when she saw the truck he’d driven over here. “Sutter’s Electrical?”

“Family business.” He stepped forward and she fell back a pace. He kept going until he was firmly inside. “Shamus called me.” Jonah used his booted foot to shove the door closed.

“Oh.” He could sense she was still suspicious of him. “That was fast.”

He barely suppressed a smile. She had no idea just how fast he could be given the right motivation. He estimated it would take him about fifteen seconds, maybe less, to strip her clothing off her and burying his face between her curvy thighs. “I was just on my way out the door when he called.”

“Oh.”

“You already said that.”

She scowled at him and waved her hand toward the kitchen. “The electrical panel is downstairs. I have no idea what the problem is, but two of the outlets in the front room don’t work.”

When he didn’t move, she turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen. Jonah took the opportunity to admire her firm, tight ass. No doubt about it, he’d love to have her on her hands and knees in front of him as he fucked her from behind.

His cock jerked in agreement. Jonah reached down and adjusted himself, but it didn’t help. There was no relief to be found. He’d already done quite a bit of research on Ms.

Amanda Barrington and nothing in her past sent up a red flag. She seemed to be exactly what she presented herself as—a dealer of antiquarian and used books who’d moved to Jamesville for a fresh start.

Amanda had one hand on the handle of the basement door. It was more than obvious that she wasn’t comfortable with him. That had to change if he ever hoped to get her into bed with him. And he did.

“How about a cup of coffee?” He placed his toolbox on the floor.

She hesitated. “Okay. I guess that would be…okay.” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nibbled on it.

Jonah almost groaned. There was a natural sensuality about Amanda that he doubted she was even aware of. He glanced away from her and noted all the boxes. She hadn’t even begun to unpack yet.

“I think I can find another mug.” She opened a box and peered inside before she began to rummage.

Unable to resist, he moved up closer to her. As if she sensed him behind her, she jerked upright. “What are you doing?”

“This.” Reaching out, he stroked his thumb over her cheek, brushing at the dirt there.

“You have a smudge right here.”

“Oh.” A tinge of pink colored her face. He was fascinated by how easily she blushed.

Her pupils dilated as he ran his thumb over the bridge of her nose. “I must have gotten that when I was down in the basement earlier.”

“No problem.” Her skin was so soft beneath his calloused fingers. He wanted to run his hands over her entire body, learning her curves, searching out all her sensitive spots.

His gut clenched as he imagined how soft and inviting her pussy would be.

Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She licked her lips and swayed slightly toward him. Her eyelids drifted shut, fanning her thick lashes against her cheekbones. That was all the permission he needed.

Cupping the back of her head with his hand, he held her steady as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were as soft as the rest of her. Jonah ran his tongue over her bottom lip before moving on to the top. He caught the faintest taste of cherries and knew it had to be her lip balm.

Her hair was thick and he tangled his fingers in the mass, not wanting her to escape him. Not yet. He loved the color, with its tinges of cinnamon, red and mahogany. It was vital and alive, just like Amanda. He wanted to know if the hair between her thighs was the same color.

He urged her closer and she came. She made a small sound of pleasure as the soft mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest. One of her hands slid up his arm before stopping at his nape. Her touch made his skin tighten and his balls ache.

Deepening the kiss, he pressed his lips more firmly to hers and let his tongue slide over the seam. She parted for him and he slipped inside. Her mouth was warm and wet and oh-so-inviting. She tasted of coffee, of late nights and early mornings. She tasted like home. But he wasn’t a forever kind of guy.

Jolted, he pulled back. Yes, he wanted to bed her. And he would have her. But only as a temporary lover.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him with that innocent, green gaze. No woman could be this open and innocent. He dropped his hand and took a step back just as a knock came on the front door.

Grabbing the flashlight from the counter, he opened the basement door and plunged down into the darkness. He welcomed the chilly air against his skin. His cock throbbed, a potent reminder of just how fast Amanda aroused him. It was shocking really.

For a man who’d spent many years in situations where his life, and the lives of others, depended on discipline and willpower, it was more than a little disconcerting to have his self-control challenged like this.

“You better answer the door,” he called back over his shoulder. “That will be Shamus.”