Chapter Two
Nick pressed his back against the red door and blew out a long, shaky breath. He’d heard about Book Nirvana for years, but nothing prepared him for what he found inside. The shop was aptly named, that was for damned sure.
From the first jingle of the brass bell over the doorway, he knew this place was something special. The sweet, almost edible scent of books, both new and used, wafted out to greet him. The early-summer sunlight bathed the shop in a welcoming glow and highlighted the colorful posters on the walls—Peter Max’s psychedelic sunset pointing toward the art books, the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine above the music section, and a lush still life of fruit, bread, and wine for the cooking section. Further down the long, narrow space, comic superheroes, a futuristic spacescape, an armored knight charging into battle, and, above a lacquered red door at the rear, Ingres’s La Grande Odalisque threw a languid glance over her bare shoulder—at once an invitation and a dare.
But the jewel of the collection was Clara herself. His friend at the University of Oregon told him about the pretty shop owner, but “pretty” hardly did her justice. Her unruly dark hair glimmered with just a hint of red fire. Those eyes—dark, like the Pacific on a stormy day, somewhere between green and gray—eyes a man could get lost in. Something about this woman set his pulse to revving like a race car at the starting line. Caught off guard by her startling beauty, he’d behaved like a horny teenager, ogling as her delicate fingers fiddled with the locket between her breasts. She noticed, too. Damn.
At least she allowed him to enter her erotica collection. His professor friend Leo warned he’d have to pass Clara’s inspection before unlocking the red door. And what waited on the other side was breathtaking. This richly-decorated little room was the perfect metaphor for his book project, inviting the reader to discover the sensuous secrets within. A worn Persian carpet in warm red tones covered the floor. On three sides, the bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, and an antique wooden stepstool stood in the corner. In the center, a plush conversation settee with an S-curved back allowed two people to sit side by side facing opposite directions. He ran his hand over the scarlet velvet, worn bald in places. What kinds of conversations had occurred on this odd little sofa?
He pictured himself seated there, opposite Clara, a large illustrated book balanced between them. Maybe a Japanese pillow book? Ancient Indian temple carvings? Baroque prints of bewigged lovers cavorting in manicured gardens? Clara’s pretty mouth would fall into an O of surprise, her hand grasping his as an erotic image made her breath catch and then quicken…
He shook his head. No point in letting his imagination distract him from the work at hand. Besides, carrying a torch for a woman who lived so far away was not in his best interest. There were lots of quirky bookshops in Berkeley, and lots of charming women. He fired up his tablet and set to work.
Two hours later, his rumbling stomach reminded him how much time had passed since lunch. He stood and stretched, his shoulders stiff from hunching over books. Exploring this treasure trove in just one session was impossible. Just two more weeks in Eugene before he had to return to California for his summer graduate seminar. Hopefully, the lovely Clara wouldn’t mind his presence in her secret chamber. Perhaps he’d better ask her out for a coffee. Strictly a professional courtesy.
Right. Would I ask her out if she weren’t so stunning?
Of course. We share a common interest. And it’s just coffee, right?
His conscience harrumphed. “Hands off,” he said aloud. “Don’t mess up a valuable professional connection.” He’d learned that painful lesson: mixing business and pleasure could be disastrous.
He smoothed his shirt, squared his shoulders, picked up the book he’d chosen, and opened the red door.
“Be right with you,” a female voice called. While he waited at the counter, a sleek orange tabby cat trotted over, sniffed his pant leg, and meowed. He crouched to stroke its silky fur, and the cat answered with a loud rumbling purr, twining round and round his ankles in a figure eight.
“Wow, she really likes you.” Clara’s spiky-haired young assistant rounded the corner pushing a wheeled cart. “Lulu, don’t trip the customers.”
Clara stepped out from behind a carved wooden screen. Just for a split second, her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Then the moment passed, and her face relaxed into a cool smile. It happened so fast he nearly doubted his perception. But that spark was real. It echoed behind his sternum, a powerful magnetic tug.
She smoothed her face into a calm half-smile. “Did you find something interesting?”
He held out the key. It swayed on its velvet cord and slipped from her grasp. He took her hand in his and placed the key in her palm. That simple touch sent a thrill of warmth up his arm. “Interesting is not a strong enough word for what I found here.”
From behind the cookbooks, the young assistant tittered like a demented sparrow.
He cleared his throat and tapped the book. “I’ve never seen a finer volume of Japanese Shunga. I’ll take this one today, please.”
“Would you like me to wrap it for you?”
“In plain brown paper, you mean?” He suppressed a teasing grin, noting the pretty way she blushed. “Actually, no. I’ll want to read it right away. I’ll be back for more volumes soon.” He held up his phone. “I hope you don’t mind, I took some photos to present to my department chair. I’m hoping to get a grant to enlarge our collection.”
“Oh. Er, yes. Of course.” Clara rang up his purchase.
He glanced over his shoulder at the assistant, who made a show of arranging comic books, and then leaned on the counter, lowered his voice. Clara’s rose perfume wafted between them, rich, simple, ripe.
He cleared his throat. “I noticed the little coffee shop next door. Can you spare me a few minutes to discuss your collection?”
Clara glanced from Nick’s face to the front door and back. Then she straightened her shoulders. “Margot, I’ll be next door for a few minutes. Can I bring you anything?”
The girl grinned. “Oh no, I’m fine. You go ahead, Boss Lady. Get off your feet.”
As Clara stepped around the corner, Margot shot him a merry wink.
He ducked his head to hide his grin. Well then, looks like I have an ally. Hope her boss likes me as much.