ows, casting a warm glow over the wooden shelves stacked with stories waiting to be discovered. It was a quiet Saturday morning, the kind she usually che

is." She frowned. "I didn't build it. My mother did. I just-took over." "Still," he said, watching her carefully. "It suits you." Mia wasn't sure how to respond to that. Silence stretched between them before he finally broke it. "Let's talk." She swallowed. "About?" "Chicago," he said simply. Her heart lurched. Chloe cleared her throat loudly from behind the counter, and Mia nearly jumped. She had forgotten her best friend was still standing there, eyes darting between the two of them with open curiosity. Marco barely spared Chloe a glance before looking back at Mia. "Are you free?" She hesitated. "I have work." His gaze flicked to Chloe, then back to her. "Take a break." Chloe made a noise of approval. "I can handle things here," she offered, not even trying to hide her interest. Mia shot her a glare, but Chloe only grinned. With no other excuse, Mia exhaled and nodded. "Fine. We can talk in the back." She turned and led him through the store, past the shelves of neatly arranged books, until they reached the small storage room. The second Mia shut the door behind them, Marco moved. A breath. A step. And suddenly, he was there-closer than he had any right to be. Mia barely had time to react before her back met the solid wood, Marco's hands bracing on either side of her. He wasn't touching her, but his presence alone was suffocating. Overwhelming. The scent of expensive cologne and something purely him filled her senses, making her head spin. Her pulse pounded as she looked up, meeting his eyes-dark, unreadable, burning with something she couldn't name. "I went back," Marco said, his voice low, rough. "To the inn." Mia stilled. His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting. "But you were gone." Her fingers curled at her sides. "I-" "What was I supposed to think?" he demanded, his voice a quiet, dangerous rasp. "That you just vanished? That I imagined you?" She swallowed, forcing herself to steady her breath. "I live here. In New Orleans." A flicker of something crossed his face. "I was in Chicago for a conference," she continued, her voice softer now. "It wasn't permanent." Marco didn't respond right away. He just stared at her, dark eyes roaming her face, dropping to her lips, then lower-to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His gaze was slow, deliberate, like he was committing h