Page 6 of Boss of Me

“Ah. Interesting.” I stare at her long dark hair and wonder what it would feel like trailing down my bare chest or spilling against my thighs. I imagine sliding my fingers through the luscious strands, cupping her face between my hands and staring into those beautiful hazel eyes while I fuck her against a wall.

As I reach for my glass, I spot my twin brother across the bar. We’re supposed to be meeting for drinks to unwind after a long week. The Jaded Zombie isn’t my usual scene, but it was Maverick’s turn to pick the spot and this is what he chose. Since I had an appointment nearby, I was able to arrive early and grab us a table in the back, where we’d be less likely to be recognized.

Maverick sees me and heads in my direction.

I jerk my headno.

He stops short and frowns, then cocks an eyebrow at my lovely companion.

“Are you okay?”

I meet Marlowe’s questioning gaze and flash a smile. “I’m fine.”

She glances over her shoulder just as my brother turns and makes his way to the bar to order a drink. Though we’re fraternal twins, we share enough of a resemblance to be easily identified as brothers.

Trying to distract Marlowe, I blurt out, “So where’d you go to college?”

She turns back to me, her hair sliding over her shoulder like silk. “I graduated from Pitt.”

“University of Pittsburgh,” I translate, nodding. “What was your major?”

“Music.” She sips her drink. “I start my master’s program in the fall.”

Beauty and brains?Be still my heart.“What’re you studying?”

“Information Studies, with a focus on academic librarianship.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You want to become a librarian?”

“A music librarian,” she specifies. “I’m interested in working for an academic library or an orchestral ensemble.”

I tilt my head to one side, smiling at her. “Music undergrad. Music librarian. I’m sensing a theme here.”

“That I love music?”

“That would be it.”

She laughs. “You got me. Idolove music.” Her expression softens. “My father was a band teacher and composer. He always had a melody in his head, a song at his fingertips. He taught me everything I know about music.”

The sadness in her eyes reaches deep inside me, touching a part of me I thought long dead and buried.

“He sounds like a very special man,” I say quietly.

“He was.” Her throat moves in a tight swallow. “He died when I was twelve.”

“I’m sorry.”

She nods, acknowledging my sympathy.

I take a sip of whiskey, watching her over the rim of my glass. “So what exactly does a music librarian do?”

“It would depend on where I worked,” she explains. “If I worked at a library, for example, I’d be responsible for cataloging music collections, answering reference questions,selecting materials for acquisition—that sort of thing. As an ensemble librarian, I could do cool stuff like maintaining orchestra scores for the musicians and marking individual parts to keep track of who plays which part for concerts.”

“Sounds cool,” I agree, loving the way her face lights up as she talks.

“I used to organize my dad’s massive record collection,” she says. “He appreciated my meticulous system, and I enjoyed making it easy for him to find artists he wanted to listen to.”

I smile softly. “Sounds like you were born to be a music librarian.”