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The competent businesswoman persona she'd adopted made it easier for Everett to maintain professional boundaries than when interacting with the playful sprite who teased and smiled and admired his ability to sell paintings in an obscure gallery in Houston.

Thankfully, once they dove into the actual designs, his artistic nature exerted itself, allowing him to get lost in the minutiae of hand tooling and gold embossing.

It took most of the morning to finalize his design.

Miss Rosenfeld proved exceedingly adept at predicting what would please him once she grasped his preference for blending clean layouts with subtle flourishes.

She even sketched a few possibilities for him, demonstrating above-average skill with a pencil.

He'd taken the tablet and added his own vision to the drawing, trimming back the leafy border she'd drawn for the cover and adding stark rectangular lines that overlapped in the corners.

She fine-tuned the look by inverting the corners to create a more geometrically interesting pattern and crafted a miniature version of the motif that could be utilized on the spine.

They continued to fiddle, discarding and incorporating ideas until they had every detail just right.

At last, Miss Rosenfeld set aside her pencil and held up the sketch for them both to examine. "This is a beautiful design, Mr. Griffin. One that is sure to stand the test of time."

The way she drew her thumb over the edge of the sketch gave the impression she wasn't just feeding the customer what he wanted to hear.

She truly admired the styling. A fact he found oddly satisfying, though why he should care about her opinion when he was the one who would be looking at the books for the rest of his days was beyond him.

Perhaps it was simply that she was an expert in her field, and her approval validated his choices.

Yet that explanation didn't ring completely true.

She laid the sketch pad upon the worktable and turned her attention to him.

"Did you wish to use the dark green leather for all the new bindings, or would you prefer a variety of colors?

" She pulled samples from the chest beneath the table and fanned out squares of reds, browns, and one of a deep blue. The blue called to him. Loudly.

Everett tugged the blue from the pile and laid it atop the others. "This one."

She smiled. "One of my favorites. It's more expensive, I'm afraid, but I brought enough that we could cover a small selection of books.

" She turned to study his shelves. "Since we are rebinding your fiction section, perhaps we could use the blue for the poetry and plays.

That would leave the green for the novels, which make up the bulk of the collection.

" She turned back to him. "What do you think? "

He thought he would remember her in her blue dress every time he reached for Keats or Shakespeare.

"I think it's an excellent plan." He also thought he needed to get out of this library before thoughts of dresses and summer skies took his mind hostage again. To that end, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

She rose as well.

"How long do you estimate this project will take?"

Miss Rosenfeld looked to the shelves that held his novels. "With the large number of books we are recovering, I would guess at least a month. Though, I could finish sooner if I worked evenings as well. I know my presence here inconveniences you."

"I'll be more inconvenienced if you wear yourself out by trying to do too much," he groused. "There'll be no working in the evenings. Sundays either. You are to take the full day off. I expect to receive your best work, and I know from experience that one cannot rush art."

Why the idea of her lengthening her visit filled him with anticipation instead of annoyance was a question he chose not to examine.

"Thank you, sir. I promise to give each book the care and time it deserves."

"Good. And since this library will be your home away from home for a while, consider it yours. You may read anything that catches your fancy during your off time." He couldn't resist adding, "Even the Bible commentaries on the top shelf."

She grinned. "I'll be sure to check the room for hidden men before I attempt the ladder again.

" The teasing twinkle faded from her eyes as her gaze filled with gratitude.

"It's very kind of you to grant me access.

" Her gaze left him to scan his shelves with a longing that resonated with the book lover in him.

"Choosing which to read will be a challenge.

You have so many wonderful books just waiting to share their knowledge and stories. "

"Yes . . . well . . . help yourself to whichever you like. Make use of the grounds as well. If this is to be your home for the next four to six weeks, you might as well be comfortable. I don't want your father to think I held you captive like some kind of prisoner."

"Oh, speaking of my father . . . might I have some paper to write to him? I'd like him to know that I arrived safely."

Everett waved toward the desk near the window. "There are writing supplies in the roll top. Help yourself to whatever you need. Lightfoot will post any letters you wish to send."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, thank Lightfoot."

And quit calling me sir . Made him feel like an old man. What he wanted her to call him was Everett, and that realization scared him enough to prompt his escape.

"If you have all you need from me," he said as he backed toward the door, "I'll leave you to your work."

He pivoted and made a dash for the exit without waiting for a reply.