Alison's Wonderland. Alison Tyler

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СКАЧАТЬ swagger in her walk than she felt. They clomped behind her. Oafish and messy. Oh, she could just picture the debris sifting from their boots and that horrible paint-splattered ladder leaving gouges in her impeccable walls. It did not occur to her until halfway up the staircase that three pairs of male eyes were now pinned to her swaying bottom. The thought almost felled her, nearly brought her down like a dry tree in a February ice storm. She stilled and someone chuckled, a small knowing laugh. Had she been a betting woman, Philomena would have laid easy money on the big Billy. She closed her eyes, wrangled a deep breath and forced her sensible square-toed work heels to continue.

      At the second floor, she surveyed the water damage. The rugs had already been torn up by maintenance. A pipe had ruptured in the ceiling, the water raining down from overhead, not from the sprinklers, but from the water pipes that ran under the third floor. She tried to remind herself (yet again) that the situation could have been worse. There could have been damage to the third floor—the archival floor. She blew out a sigh and indicated the mess. “Here we are, gentlemen.”

      “The man who hired us,” said the middle one, “where’s he?”

      “Harry is off today. He’ll be here tomorrow. As, I trust, will you.” Philomena had nightmares about contractors who showed once and then never came back. She’d heard horror stories.

      “Bummer. He’s a nice one.” The small one was a bit shifty. He had a nervous thing he did with his chin. Thrusting it forward like he was chewing cud. She found the tic mesmerizing in a completely inappropriate way.

      “Now,” she hurried on, trying to focus, “as you can see, there’s some damage to the wall over here. And down at the checkout counter where you came in.” She walked to the far wall. The floor above the checkout was metal gridwork. Wrought iron and fancy. Meant to let the patron look down to the level below. If she put her head back, she could see the domed ceiling above in the archives.

      She turned, and the biggest man was right on her heels. Those gorgeous green eyes took a lazy tour of her chocolate-brown wrap dress and her sensible heels. Damn it all if she didn’t start blushing all over again. He leaned in and then past her, but she felt the soft dark brush of his warm breath across her bare neck. “So the water just ran right over the edge and down the wall. And this all happened after closing time?” He turned his head but kept his body angled, his generous mouth a bare two inches from hers.

      In her mind’s eye, Philomena could see those big dusty hands with the ragged nails settle on her hips. She could see the busted knuckles flex as big bad Billy’s powerful palms hauled her in and pulled her flush to his hard angles. She imagined with bizarre clarity what those full pink lips would feel like crushing down on hers and how hot his tongue would be working past her own swollen lips. The raspy sound his calluses would make as he pushed her dress up, dragging his work-abused hands up her stockings until—

      “Right?”

      “Calluses,” she blurted, and then bit her tongue so hard her eyes blurred. How asinine. “I meant ‘correct.’ That is correct. The mess sat all night long. And it was during a heat wave. The water shorted the air-conditioning unit, creating mold and mess and more water.” Her tongue tripped over the words as if it had never formed such things before.

      The towering Billy touched her forearm and the sensation of his skin on hers made her shiver like she was cold. “You okay?”

      “I am fine, Mr.…um, Billy…”

      “Benjamin.”

      “I thought you said your names were all Billy,” Philomena squeaked.

      “Billy Benjamin. The little one is Billy Samuels and then there’s Billy Midlin.”

      “Ah. Thank you for the introductions. Now, about the floor.”

      His breath stroked her skin again as he leaned in to hear. Philomena felt her mouth sag open just a little, her heart did a little flip-flop in her chest and she felt intense moisture between her legs. This was the point where men started doing math in their heads, she thought. What did women do?

      “What about it? This seems to be the only part of the floor up here unharmed.”

      “What I am trying to say is, during operating hours, people will be passing through on the first floor. Please refrain from walking over this section during work hours. There might be…” She pointed to his shoes.

      Billy Benjamin laughed and clomped his chunky boot on the floor until a small chunk of mud flaked off. Why? She wanted to grab him and shake him and demand to know why! But then her gaze returned to his mouth and her mind turned from mud to mush. And her insides turned molten hot and her pussy followed suit. Work. She was at work.

      “You have a thing about dirt, don’t you?”

      Philomena could only nod. The other two men were placing drop cloths and making a horrible racket. Big Billy—Billy Benjamin—had eyes only for her. He moved in farther and Philomena took a staggering step back as her heel went to war with the wrought iron gridwork. It gave him an excuse. He reached out, his hands latching on to her forearms. No. Swallowing her forearms right up.

      “I do.” Her voice was strangled and not at all as authoritative as she wanted. Even though her mind went down a verdant dirty path the moment he touched her, she tried to hold on to her head librarian persona. “I also have a thing about being manhandled. Please let me go and keep yourself and your men from walking over this section during patron hours. Thank you.”

      He leaned in, his mouth so close. He smelled of cinnamon and mint and coffee. A very yummy, very warm smell. “No problem, boss lady Troll.”

      “Yes. Right.” From below came the ding, ding, ding of someone pressing the red button for assistance. Saved by the bell. Literally. “I’d better go answer that.”

      “Hurry, scary boss lady. Get back down below.” He winked when he said it and the wink sent a fireball of attraction rushing from the deepest pit of her stomach to the warmest recesses of her body. She straightened her spine so hard her whole body clenched. Bad move. The clenching made the desire run amok and she nearly, nearly, mind you, leaned in and kissed him before her brain could even think it over. Thank goodness, she managed not to do that.

      Thank goodness. Right?

      “I would suggest you get to work now, Big Billy.”

      Time stood still then. Everything froze, including her unstably beating heart. Had she just called this colossal, handsome, green-eyed man…Big Billy? To his face?

      He barked laughter, green eyes dancing, narrowing and darkening a bit with predatory glee. He looked her over and the gaze itself was like strong fingers sliding over her skin.

      “Big Billy?”

      Yes. Yes, she had said it out loud.

      “Sorry. My apologies,” she choked out, and ran on her unsteady heels from the scene of the crime. On the first floor, safe behind her library counter, Philomena prayed for death. It did not come.

      Right after lunch as she was checking out a gentleman with a substantial stack of books on the practice of Wicca, the first dirt shower came. A small clod rested on The Layman’s Grimoire, then a faint sifting decorated Everyone Witchcraft. Philomena steeled herself, looked up and got a nice piece of silt in her eye for her efforts. “Please, Billy! Please, I asked you three СКАЧАТЬ