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A Time to Heal

By Erin Stevenson

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CHAPTER 1

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Rand lowered his head and Amy lifted her lips to meet his. He had kissed her a hundred times during the filming of their four-movie series. On-screen kisses dripped with romance, but in reality, they were staged, mechanical, mostly passionless, the two parties surrounded by people with cameras often inches from their faces. Rand and Amy had always handled them with strict professionalism and detachment.
Until earlier in the week. They’d had a moment. And they had yet to talk about it.
She pressed into him, and her fingers tunneled into his hair. Rand squelched the urge to squirm away.
“Music will cue now,” the director’s voice came over the PA. “Keep the kiss going, drone shots will pull back. Bubbles, now! Crowd, applaud!”
Rand could see it in his mind. They were on the outdoor deck of the Sydney Opera House, and this was the closing shot to the movie entirely shot in Australia. The bubbles, produced by a machine, would catch the light, creating tiny, sparkling rainbows. The production crew had tested it at all times of the day and night and decided sunset was the perfect moment. They had rehearsed it dozens of times with the drone. The closing shot would pull back until a helicopter took over.
The crowd of wedding guests—extras—clapped, hooted, and hollered. “Keep going, keep going,” the director’s voice rang out. Jai Patel, the best director in Hollywood.
And Amy’s husband.
Suddenly, Rand couldn’t take anymore. He pulled his mouth from Amy’s, lifted her, and spun her around and around, staring at her with what he hoped was a look of joy. Her vivid blue eyes sparkled back at him, and her gossamer veil floated out behind her.
“What the--?” Irritation laced Jai’s voice. “Keep going, eyes in the sky.” After about fifteen seconds, he yelled, “and, cut!”
Jai tore off his headphones and made straight for Rand and Amy. “What was that? You were supposed to hold the kiss.”
Rand set his co-star down and stepped back. “I--I don’t know, Jai. I just saw it in my mind, and it felt like the natural thing to do.”
“We can’t reshoot now. The light’s gone.” Jai raked a hand through is black, wavy hair. “Let me check it.” He stomped away.
Rand felt Amy’s eyes boring into him. He slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped back. The assistant director’s voice floated over the crowd. “It’s really good, boss.”
“I’ll look at it later,” Jai muttered. He spoke through the bullhorn. “All right. That’s it, people. Get your assignments for tomorrow from the AD.”
Rand tore off his bow tie and unhooked the top button of his tux shirt. Finally, he could breathe.
Amy unhooked the veil and handed it to one of the wardrobe assistants. “Rand, we need to talk.”
He closed his eyes. “No, Amy, I don’t think we do.”
“You know we do,” she hissed.
“Not here.”
“Let’s go to your trailer.”
Rand thought that was a bad idea but nodded. When they got there, he allowed her to precede him. She carefully held the skirt of the magnificent bridal gown, handmade by one of the world’s top designers.
When she stepped into the trailer, she turned right. Rand turned left. He crossed his arms over his chest. “All right, talk. You’re only staying a few minutes.”
“Rand, we’ve been friends for years--”
“Yes, you, me, and Jai--your husband.”
She pulled on one of her long, golden red curls. “You and I have always had amazing chemistry.”
He nodded. “On-screen, yes. That’s why Jai handpicked us for these roles.”
She tilted her head and impaled him with her beautiful eyes. “But--it felt different the other day. You felt it too. I know you did.”
Rand shook his head. “It’s a line I won’t cross, Amy. Period. You should go now.”
She stepped toward him and held out a long, elegant arm. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Rand, please. I need to talk with someone. Things between Jai and me, they’re not good.”
He put up his hands. “Well, I’m not the one you should talk with. I mean it, Amy.”
The tears bubbled out of her eyes. She could cry on demand better than most anyone Rand had ever worked with, and he wasn’t going to be manipulated. Thankfully, his phone chirped with an incoming call. He reached for it on the table between them.
He looked at the screen, and his heart fell. No, not yet.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey, it’s me.” His sister Vanessa’s voice was high and thin, laced with tears. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time. “No, we just wrapped up shooting for today. How is she?”
There was a long pause. “It’s time for you to come.”
“I’ll be in the air tonight.”
A sob echoed in his ear, and Rand swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ll see you soon, Nessie.”
“Bye, Rando.”
Rand disconnected the call.
“Is it your mom?” Amy’s face showed sincere concern.
He nodded.
“Oh, Rand, I’m sorry.”
“I’m leaving for Montana. I need to pack and then find Jai.”
She just stood there. “Rand, I just wish--”
He brushed past her, opened the door and descended the steps. “Let me help you down.” She held his proffered hand and lifted her skirt with the other.
“Take care, Rand.”
“Thanks.” He went back into the trailer, locked the door and leaned against it, then closed his eyes and lifted a prayer to Heaven. God, I need your help like never before.

~ * ~

The flight was long but comfortable, mainly because Rand traveled in his own plane. There was even a room in the back with a queen-sized bed, and a bathroom with a shower. They’d stopped in Honolulu and San Francisco to refuel and switch out flight crews. Rand spent the time trying to sleep, doing crossword puzzles—his go-to in times of stress—and just thinking.
After they reached cruising altitude after leaving San Fran, he dozed in one of the comfortable leather recliners, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The conversation with Jai hadn’t been unexpected; Rand had let him know two weeks ago that his mother wasn’t doing well, and when he got the word from his sister, he was leaving to go home. Jai served both as executive producer and director of the film and rearranged the shooting schedule to get Rand’s scenes out of the way. It was serendipitous that they’d just wrapped up the wedding scene. The only ones left were some of the action scenes that could be shot with his body double.
“Look, man, I’m sorry about changing up the end of the scene,” Rand had said, sincerely contrite. “I could see it in my mind.”
“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” Jai said. “You know I don’t like surprises. But it ended up being a better ending than the one in the script.” He studied his long-time friend. “You’ve got good instincts, Rand. You ever think about going on the other side of the camera?”
Rand shrugged and murmured something non-committal. But the fact was, he had been thinking about it. He’d undergone a lot of changes over the past year and was seriously considering doing something else, even to the point of leaving the business.
He and God had a lot of decisions to make.
Rand watched part of an episode of a police drama but lost interest, then rose and walked to the front. The steward was reading a magazine and stood when Rand approached.
“Something I can get for you, sir?”
“No, I just wondered how long until we land.”
The man looked at his watch. “We’ll start our initial descent in about an hour.”
“Good. I’ve got plenty of time for a shower. Thanks.”
Rand decided not to shave. When he’d tried that once and the plane hit some turbulence, the result wasn’t pleasant. He was buckled into his seat by the time they made their approach into the airport in Kalispell.
As the plane broke through the cloud cover, Rand gazed on the northwestern Montana landscape, and an ache spread through his chest. He’d carried a piece of this beautiful country in his heart from the day he’d left almost twenty years ago. It was almost sunset, but the sky was cold and gray. That was typical for early fall in Montana. It wasn’t unusual to see snow in September.
He’d only been back once, and that trip was cut short due to circumstances out of Rand’s control. What would it be like this time? Mom was living out her last days with hospice care at home. Would his father even allow him on Kingston land? Rand was determined to see her, to put his arms around her one more time and tell her he loved her. His heart sagged with regret for the lost years.
As soon as they landed and taxied to the terminal, a black SUV met them on the tarmac. By the time Rand thanked the pilots, got off the plane and walked to the vehicle, his staff had retrieved his luggage and stowed it in the back.
“Evening, Rand,” a voice drawled.
“Is it evening? I don’t even know what day it is,” Rand muttered. He smiled. “Good to see you, Marco.” He exchanged a handshake and back-slap with his longtime right-hand man. Marco Bruce was a year younger than Rand, African American, former military, an inch taller, but built like a tank. Every detail of Rand’s life rested entirely in Marco’s capable hands, and his bulk and brawn had come in handy on more than one occasion.
Rand climbed into the back of the SUV with Marco and greeted the two security agents in front. As the vehicle pulled away, Marco opened his ever-present binder--the one they both referred to as his Bible--and took out a pen. “We’re at a hotel in town, just like you asked. I reserved a suite with a full kitchen for a week.”
“I don’t know how long we’ll be here,” Rand murmured.
They turned onto Highway 2 and headed north, the opposite direction from Kingston Valley, where his family’s ranch lay. Were they all there? All of his brothers lived with their families and worked on the ranch. His sister, Vanessa, and her family lived outside of town about twenty minutes away.
He hadn’t seen them in years, and had sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews he’d never met. Rand had been back just once since he left home, for Vanessa’s high school graduation a decade ago. He’d gone directly to the football field to surprise his family, filled with high hopes of being reunited with them.
But Rand had underestimated what the arrival of someone of his celebrity status would mean to a small-town family event, and before he could even get to them, things had gone south, and he’d had no choice but to leave.
Rand pushed the ugly memory out of his mind and stared out the window as they traveled down Canadian Meadows’ main street. His hometown had changed, yet stayed the same. The town square had a new, updated gazebo covered with twinkling lights, and the storefronts around it were all in a western theme, very quaint and inviting. Fall flowers hung from baskets and overflowed from window boxes.
Soon, they turned onto Idaho Street, and Rand’s breath hitched in his chest. The town’s library was just up the road.
In his extensive travels, Rand had visited some of the world’s oldest, largest, and most opulent libraries. But this one, the place that had planted and nurtured the seed of his love of reading from early childhood, still held a cherished place in his heart.
Given his celebrity status, it was much easier for him to shop for books online. But sometimes on his travels, he’d poke into a dusty old bookstore and unearth a jewel. He had an impressive home library at his cabin in the hills above Santa Barbara in California, rows of custom bookcases he’d built with his own hands. But everywhere he traveled, he tried to make time to visit the local library, even though he couldn’t check out any books. The pull was just too strong.
It was his first night home, and the one place he wanted to go.
When they approached, he leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “Hey, can we pull in here?”
Marco frowned. “What’s this?”
“The town library. See the sign?”
“Hmm. Doesn’t look like a library.”
“Well, it is.” Rand’s heart lifted as he looked up at the building. The magnificent Queen Anne mansion was originally owned by a family who built a shipping and freight empire in northwestern Montana in the late 1800s, and had been the largest home in Canadian Meadows for many years. Their descendants gifted the house to the city in the 1970s when they were no longer able to maintain it.
Marco smirked. “A library. I should have known.”
“I’m all out of reading material.” Rand glanced at the dashboard clock. “Perfect. They’re still open.” When the car stopped, he opened his door. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
“No way,” Marco’s voice was sharp. “Guys, go with him. I’ll stay here.”
Warm golden light spilled from the windows, drawing Rand in. He pushed through the front doors, took the short flight of stairs two at a time, stopped, and raised his head.
And felt his lips turn up in a half-smile.
The front area had been remodeled and updated, but thankfully everything that gave the building its unique charm had been kept intact.
The plaster walls were now a soft cream, the perfect complement to all the dark wood, which thankfully hadn’t been touched. Rand’s gaze quickly roamed over the front-lobby area directly in front of him with groupings of chairs and small couches in earth tones, past the main check-in desk straight ahead, and up. Straight up to the building’s crowning glory, the staircases and balconies.
Two curved staircases were anchored in the far corners of the main floor that rose gracefully and emptied out onto a balcony that ran the entire width of the building overlooking the lobby area. The railings were the perfect backdrop for holiday décor and colorful banners advertising everything from summer reading programs to book club events. Beyond there, reaching back into the bowels of the building, were the main stacks—as well as on the first floor below behind the main desk.
And right in the center of the second-floor balcony was a beguiling spiral staircase leading to the lesser-used third floor with its own balconies on either side. The place where special collections were housed and where Rand spent countless hours of his youth losing himself in books. Meeting lifelong friends like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, escaping to magical places in the pages of Chronicles of Narnia, Robinson Crusoe, The Swiss Family Robinson, and Gulliver’s Travels. Dreaming of cities and deserts and forests and oceans a Montana boy would never see. Now, because of his unlikely career, he’d visited all of them.
Rand’s eyes drifted shut and he took a deep breath. Relief washed over him as familiarity filled his senses. It still smelled the same.
He glanced at the large, round clock above the main desk. It was almost eight-thirty, and the library closed at nine. He’d noticed when they pulled in that there were very few cars in the parking lot on this drizzly Thursday night.
He turned and nodded to the two men behind him. “I’ve got this, guys. I just want to look around for a few minutes. You can wait in the lobby if you want.”
They didn’t stand out like Secret Service agents, but they were clearly bodyguards. Tall, muscular, former military, in chinos and navy polos with the RSK logo. High-and-tight haircuts that did nothing to hide their earpieces.
And if none of that gave them away, the holsters resting on their hips certainly did.
One of the men tipped his chin. “Call us if you need us, boss.”
Rand started to correct him, then decided against it. This one was relatively new to his team, and he’d asked him to call him Rand. He didn’t want to be thought of as anyone’s boss. He’d get it eventually.
Rand nodded. One touch to a button on his Smartwatch would alert them to his location and bring them running. But he highly doubted he’d need them.
He headed for the staircase on the right and was on the balcony in no time. He walked about a third of the way toward the center and paused to take in the view below, resting his hands on the cool, smooth wood railing.
Whoever had designed the lobby area had done a spectacular job. Rand was sensitive to this, having been on so many meticulously constructed movie sets. There was a perfect balance in everything ranging from the number of places to sit and how they were arranged, the various sorts of tables, the colors and textures of fabrics, even down to the carefully selected accoutrements and wall hangings. And all of it looked and felt like Montana.
He looked around with a satisfied smile and then moved to the spiral staircase. The third floor beckoned him. Rand smiled at the sign housed on a stand. Children under six must be accompanied by an adult. He had raced alone up and down that staircase hundreds of times before he reached that age.
Rand rested his hand on the railing, placed his foot on the first step, and stared straight up. The swirling metal structure drew him heavenward. Because of his height, he had to duck when he reached the top.
He rested his hands on his hips and looked around, and his heart plummeted. Big change was coming to the third floor. There were comfortable chairs sprinkled around, and a few tables. But behind them, the open area was gone, replaced by a solid glass wall running the entire span of the building. A set of double wooden doors with mullioned windows stood sentinel, and there was nothing but darkness beyond.
Rand couldn’t wait to see what was beyond those doors. He quickly crossed and laid his hand on the curved brass handle, pleased when it moved. He slipped through the door and ran his hand along the wall next to the door frame until he felt the switch.
One click, and the room was bathed in soft light. Rand looked around and let out a low whistle. It appeared that this was being turned into a genuine reading room but was clearly still under construction. It resembled some of the best private libraries he’d seen in stately manors throughout Europe.
He lifted his gaze to the soaring ceiling where three chandeliers were suspended, and he flipped another switch on the wall. Nothing. They must not be connected yet.
A beautiful hardwood floor was in place—pecan by the looks of it—but a light coat of sawdust and footprint-laden, chalky construction dust rested on top. He could see in his mind what it would look like when buffed to a high sheen. Rand noticed two large rolled-up carpets against one wall and in one corner were a dozen or so shrouded items of furniture and some boxes that he assumed held tables and perhaps lamps.
But the ultimate feature of the room was undoubtedly the stunning floor-to-ceiling cherry bookcases that lined the walls at each end plus the main wall in front of him, with rolling ladders already in place. A magnificent stone fireplace soared to the high ceiling.
Now this was a reading room. Rand realized that his jaw had dropped and closed it. He let out a satisfied sigh and hoped with all his heart that this was because of his last anonymous donation to the library. He also wondered whose work this was. Certainly not Betsey Tindall, the longtime head librarian and fixture of his childhood. As much as Rand loved Miss Betsey, she could never have come up with this.
He crossed to the corner and lifted up the various drop cloths, making delightful discoveries of soft, butter-leather couches and comfortable chairs, all in rich, earthy jewel tones. The paper covering the carpet rolls was secured with masking tape, but easily removed. Rand ran his hand over one of them. These were beautiful, high-quality Turkish carpets. He shook his head in wonder. His mind filled with a vision of the room filled with all these elegant things, the shelves laden with books, crackling flames dancing in the fireplace, the majestic mountain scenes visible through the high palladium window at the south end of the room. He envisioned the unmatched beauty showcasing every season. Rand could imagine spending many, many hours in this enchanting space.
Suddenly, a voice startled him out of his reverie. “Excuse me, what are you doing in here? This room isn’t open to the public. You need to leave.”
It was a female voice that brooked no argument. Rand turned to find a woman silhouetted in the doorway. Surely when she realized who he was, she would change her tune.
She frowned. “Did you hear me? You need to go. Now.”
Wow. Rand wasn’t used to this. He walked toward her, pulling out his million-watt smile. “Oh—I’m sorry. I just—this is beautiful.”
“Thank you, but it’s not open to the public.” She stepped out of the open doorway and held out her arm in a clear gesture to sweep him from the room.
As Rand neared, he was taken in by her shoulder-length auburn hair, peach-toned skin, and golden-brown eyes, not to mention the curves encased in jeans and a forest-green angora sweater. She belonged in this room. Was she the one responsible for it?
Rand preceded her out the door and watched as she pulled it closed and locked it, double-checking to be sure it was secure. “I’m sorry,” he said in his most repentant voice. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Well, it’s still under construction and we don’t want anyone to get injured.”
Rand started to open his mouth with an engaging comeback—or maybe even an invitation for coffee—but she cut him off.
“The library will be closing in twenty-five minutes.” Then she spun on her heel, marched to the west end of the hallway, and disappeared through an unmarked door. Rand knew it led to a back workroom with access to the lower floors. He kept his eye on her curvaceous, swinging hips.
Despite her demeanor, she was cute. Really cute. And Rand loved a challenge of the female variety. She might be a nice diversion during his stay.
Stop it. You’re not that guy anymore.
He closed his eyes and hung his head. You’re right, Lord. I’m sorry.
Old habits die hard, but with God’s help, he would become a new man. A better man.

~ * ~

Julie Collins closed the door to the workroom, leaned against it, and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep, ragged breath and pressed a hand to her chest.
She’d just been alone in a room with King.
Not “the King,” à la Elvis, just King. Like Prince, but so much more. Larger than life. So much larger. Well over six feet, he possessed an athletic, cat-like grace. Muscular legs outlined by form-fitting jeans, a trim torso rising from slim hips to broad shoulders. A head full of thick, light-brown hair sprinkled with tawny flecks under the overhead lights. Mesmerizing aqua-blue eyes that came to life when he smiled.
Oh, that smile. When it reached out and wrapped itself around her, Julie could almost hear his thoughts: You want me, you know you do. And I’m available.
And his voice! The few words he’d spoken were deep but resonated with a musical lilt that captivated her.
Of course, Julie knew who he was, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing. She had an uncommon bond with his sister, Vanessa, but had never seen Rand Kingston on the big screen, just online when she’d looked him up. Once she’d spent over two hours combing through photos and watching trailers of his movies.
But nothing she saw on the screen prepared her for the real, live man. He was beyond gorgeous. Raw masculinity oozed out of every pore. He’d been labeled for years—the shirtless wonder, America’s dreamboat, sexiest man alive, most perfect face, on and on. But the voice, the eyes, the smile, the look—all of it was a veneer, a Hollywood concoction.
Julie ran a hand down her stomach. She never should have stuffed herself into these jeans today, but she didn’t want to have to go to the next size up in her closet. She felt and looked terrible. Her weight struggle was a constant battle. Rand Kingston probably thought she was a fat, middle-aged slob.
Julie shook herself. What was she doing, wasting time thinking about him, and why should she care what he thought? Her stomach growled in protest of having skipped dinner. She was bumping up against a deadline and had gotten so busy with a big book order that she’d forgotten all about the salad she’d brought from home. Now, a headache pulsed at her temples. That was one reason she was so annoyed to find someone in the reading room.
Julie glanced at her watch and headed for the back stairs down to her office. Betsey had already left, and Julie and one of their staff, Lili, were going to close.
Julie stopped at her desk, quickly powered down her computer and walked to the circulation desk. Lili was there checking in books. When she saw Julie, she flapped her hands and gestured to two men standing at one end of the lobby.
“Julie! Did you hear? Rand Kingston is here! King is here! Those are his bodyguards,” the college-age student bubbled. “I haven’t seen him yet.” Her eyes were wide, her skin flushed with excitement. “Oh my gosh, Julie! What if he comes to check out a book?”
Julie rolled her eyes. “Lili, he’s not going to check out a book. He doesn’t live here and doesn’t have a library card.” Did Mr. Hollywood even know how to read? She took Lili gently by the arm and propelled her to the end of the desk. “Go do the final checks upstairs and I’ll close down the desk.” That was their usual routine.
Lili nodded vigorously, her strawberry curls bobbing. “I will. Oh, maybe I’ll see him! I’ll just die!” She giggled and hurried off.
Julie shook her head to herself. Why did people—women in particular—go all silly at the sight of a famous person? Julie didn’t get it. Of course, she had never met a famous person, until tonight.
She glanced around as she finished checking in the rest of the books. Other than King’s two goons, the library seemed deserted. It was almost 8:51. A flash of annoyance slammed through her. If Rand Kingston thought they were going to keep the library open late for him, he was in for a surprise. In exactly seven minutes, Julie would find him and let him know in no uncertain terms that—
A shadow materialized at the desk directly in front of her, blocking the overhead light, and she startled. She hadn’t even heard anyone approach.
“Hi.” How could one word sound so yummy? That deep voice, that devastating smile and those twinkling eyes again. Her heart leapt into overdrive, and she sucked in her stomach.
And wanted to kick herself.
She tried to sound unaffected. “Oh—hello.” She felt her head tipping back. Goodness, but he was tall.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she was prime rib, and he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Did you need something?” she asked with all the crispness she could insert into her voice.
“Well, I—I wanted to check these out.” He held up two books that, to Julie’s surprise, didn’t look like picture books from the children’s section.
“You don’t have a library card, and you’re not a resident.” Well, shoot, that gave it away.
“Actually, I do have a card, but I guess I misplaced it. I’m sorry.” The words rolled off his tongue in a lazy way. A look of remorse stole over his handsome features. She was certain he’d rehearsed it to perfection, but to her it looked as phony as a three-dollar bill.
Julie was incensed. Why did people never take libraries seriously? They thought they could just waltz in and leave with tens or hundreds of dollars’ worth of books. Just last week a scruffy-looking millennial had tried to sign up for a card using a coupon flyer addressed to “Loyal Pizza Barn Customer” as proof of his residency.
What in the world could Rand Kingston be interested in reading, anyway? Probably a book about the advancement of women’s lingerie through the years. With lots of photos.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Julie locked her eyes with his and spit out one word. “Name?”
He smiled again. Didn’t he ever get tired of smiling? “Ronald McDonald.”
Now he was making fun of her, and Julie was not in the mood. She was hungry and tired. “Look, Mr.—”
His eyes crinkled and a completely engaging laugh spilled out of his gorgeous, sculpted lips. “I promise—it’s for real. I can’t—you know, someone would love to know what sorts of things I was reading. It would be fodder for the tabloids.” One eyebrow quirked up.
So, he knew she knew who he was.
His eyes danced. “It was all Miss Betsey’s idea. Look it up. Ronald McDonald, PO Box 198.”
Julie clicked some keys, and there it was, just as he said. And darn it, the card was valid for another year.
She cleared her throat. “All right, Mr. McDonald.” She held her hand out for the books and he passed them over. A current raced up Julie’s arm when his fingers brushed hers.
She couldn’t believe it. A Churchill biography and a book on English Tudor architecture?
“What? You expected The Art of Seduction?” he murmured. That eyebrow quirked up again, sexy as all get-out, and Julie’s heart skipped a beat. Several, in fact.
She was never any good at hiding her reactions. Julie’s face flamed. She thrust the books under the bar code reader, scanned them and slammed them shut. The machine spit out his receipt and she slapped it on top of the books, shoving them to his side of the counter. No way was she touching his hand again.
“Due back in three weeks.” He’d probably be long gone, and they’d never see those books again. The Churchill one would be a big loss.
“Rand? Is that you?” Betsey’s squeal floated over Julie’s shoulder, startling her. What was she doing back?
The little woman set her purse down and scurried around the desk. “I forgot my umbrella, and something told me to come back!” Julie watched, amazed when Rand bent down and lavished a gentle hug on Betsey. She drew back and looked at him tenderly, sadness in her eyes. “You’re here to see your mama.”
Rand swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I am. It’s time.”
Tears filled the sweet lady’s eyes. “Marcella has been so, so brave. It will mean the world to her that you’ve come.” She cleared her throat, reached up and cupped his jaw. “And you’re more handsome every time I see you,” she said with a flutter of eyelashes.
Rand laughed, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “And you, Betsey, darlin’, are as lovely as the day I met you!” It should have sounded cheesy, but the words and his expression rang with sincere affection.
Betsey roared with laughter and looked at Julie. “He was a babe in his mother’s arms the day he met me.” She looked up at Rand. “You’ve met Julie?”
His beautiful eyes softened just a bit. “Yes, Julie.” The way he said her name felt like a caress. “She—showed me your new reading room. It’s magnificent.” His gaze bore into hers, daring her to contradict him.
Betsey clapped her small hands together. “Isn’t it, though? It was all Julie’s creation, every bit of it.” She swung her arms around in a wide arc. “As is the new lobby. Do you like it?”
Rand rained down a look of approval on Julie. “I do. I think it’s beautiful.” She felt herself blush under his praise and wished she could vanish.
“Well, I’ve finally decided to retire, so Julie will be taking over. She’s getting her master’s in Library Science. Did she tell you? I’ll stay here for the summer and live in Arizona with my sister and brother the rest of the year.” She shivered. “I’m ready to leave the cold and snow behind.”
Rand squeezed Betsey’s shoulder again and planted a soft kiss on her white coiffed hair. “Well, you deserve all the happiness you can get,” he said. Then he fixed his gaze on Julie. “And I can tell you’re leaving this wonderful place in the best of hands.”
Julie heard a noise behind her. “Everything’s closed up for the night.” Lili’s voice was an octave higher than normal, and she had a wild-eyed, flushed look.
“Thank you, Lili,” Julie said. She looked back at Rand. “This is one of our staff, Lili.”
“Hi,” Lili breathed. Julie moved a little closer to her, just in case the young woman fainted.
“Hello, Lili, nice to meet you,” Rand said politely. He glanced up at the clock and reached for his books. “We’ll get out of here now so you can close on time.”
“Are those young men yours?” Betsey asked.
“Yes, they are.” Rand shrugged. “I really can’t go out much on my own anymore.”
Betsey patted his arm. “That’s too bad. Come by the house sometime for a long talk.” She looked at Rand’s bodyguards again. “Give them an afternoon off.”
“Count on it,” Rand said with a smile. He pinned Julie with a stare. “Thanks for checking me out.”
He crossed the lobby with long, confident strides and disappeared down the stairs, the bodyguards closing in behind him.
Julie dragged her gaze from Rand Kingston’s well-toned backside and let out a breath as Lili sagged against her. Somehow, she felt like her life had just taken a very unexpected turn.

 

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