Devon Lake was prepared this time. He looked up from the book he was reading at the cash register just in time to catch her watching him.

She was interested. He could feel it. A lot of older women, and younger if he was honest, liked his look. Devon appreciated that but normally didn't acknowledge them with even so much as a glance, but this one ... Clarice Johnson ... was different.

Clarice. He knew her name from reading it on her credit card when she paid for her purchases and recently they had enjoyed conversation on a first name basis.

He loved it. Reminded him of 'Silence of the Lambs'. Devon had an irresistible urge to go back in the stacks and whisper her name over her shoulder.

Clarice.

Sexy. Haunting. A good name for a woman who looked like she did. Her name may remind him of 'Silence of the Lambs' but her look--classic. Grace Kelly classic.

Shoulder length, honey-blond hair fell in silky strands around her porcelain face and her eyes ... she had the deepest green eyes he'd ever seen. He could tell by the small lines at the corners of her eyes that she smiled often. It also spoke of her age. Maybe forty, he thought, though it was hard to tell sometimes. He was so used to the young flirty ones hitting on him that when the mature women approached him, he had trouble guessing their age.

But Clarice ... her age didn't matter.

Devon wondered if she was really that interested in him or just drawn by his looks.

Yeah, so he had the black hair and dark eyes women seemed to crave ever since Disney's Captain Jack Sparrow hit the screen but did she like him ... as a person? Hard to tell. They'd only talked a few times and not about anything important.

He wanted to get to know her. She had such intelligence shining in her eyes and two weeks ago, he'd found himself checking her left hand for a ring. There hadn't been one. He hoped that meant she was fair game.

That's why today he was prepared. Devon knew what sort of books she bought. Steamy romance. He'd never read one, sticking more to the classics, one of the things he got ribbed about constantly by his friends. But Clarice seemed to enjoy romance and wasn't at all shy about him knowing what it was she read. Hell, the books were full of sex. He'd glanced through a couple and was surprised by how detailed the scenes were. What did surprise him was she leaned toward the more exotic titles. Either she liked sex or she was going without and getting her kicks from the books. He didn't know which. But today, he had a plan.

He was going to plant the first seed today toward getting to know Clarice Johnson.

He watched as she ran her fingers over the titles, wondering what it would be like to have those elegant fingers trailing over...

"Hey Dev," Chuck said, bumping against him as he moved in behind the front counter, "watching the housewife again, I see."

Devon breathed out a sigh and straightened. "So what?"

Chuck reached beneath the counter for the sales sheets and stood up. "What is it with you and her?" He glanced toward Clarice, who was still perusing the books. "She looks like she may be old enough to be your mother. What's up with your interest in her?"

"None of your business." Devon flipped through the book he had been reading, a collection of poems by Poe. The note was still there, tucked between the pages. He had written it last night, hoping that Clarice would stay true to form and show up today to buy her stock of books for the week.

"I don't know about you sometimes, Dev," Chuck said, paging through the sales sheets. "You portray the 'Goth' image, but you act like you're in the Baby-Boomer thing. The old movies you watch, the music you listen to ... hell, look at what you're reading."

"It's Poe. You can't get more gothic than Poe," Devon commented. "As far as being who I am, I'm comfortable with it. I like the dark look, some of the new Goth style but I also like the classics. Have you ever watched Hitchcock? 'Rear Window' for example. The lighting alone is worth watching the movie..."

Chuck held up a hand. "Okay," he interrupted, "you don't have to sell me on the old flicks or the books. Live your life, dude."

Devon shook his head. Chuck might be his friend but sometimes ... Devon thought Chuck was someone who would probably live his life as if he were twenty-two forever. The sort that never tended to grow up. The 'football jock' with young things hanging from him constantly, Chuck reveled in the attention he got. He'd live in his football days for the rest of his life.

Devon felt old already. He'd been through enough in his life to show him that the party lifestyle didn't hold his interest for long. This was his last quarter, then he'd have his degree in Literature. What he planned to do was teach. And write, maybe. Wouldn't be long and he'd begin his adult life for real. He didn't have to work, not with his inheritance, but he wanted to. Wanted to mold young minds into something that someday may create great things. He had dreams, ones that he wanted to fulfill. Mostly he wanted to be a good man--respected.

As he ran his thumb over the edge of the note, he smiled. He'd probably have to change his look if he wanted 'respect'.

"Hello, Devon."

Her voice floated over him in a caress. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "Hello, Clarice."

She placed three books on the counter. All sexy stuff. "So, are you ready for Valentine's Day?" she asked, her deep green eyes sparking.

Devon reached for the books, glancing at the covers. Hmm, bit of bondage maybe? Sure was enough black leather and white skin on the covers. "Maybe. I've got something in the works for Valentine's Day."

"Hmm," she murmured, smiling. "I'll just bet you do."

Devon rang up her purchase. "What about you?"

"Me?" She laughed a bell-like tone. "No. I'm on my own for Valentine's Day." She slid her credit card across the counter.

Devon tilted his head. "By choice?"

Clarice lowered her chin, looking at him through thick lashes. "Depends on what you mean."

Ah, a come-on, maybe, Devon wondered. He slid the note from his book of Poe and deftly inserted it into one of the paperbacks she was buying before putting them in a bag for her. "What I mean is ... do you want to be on your own? For Valentine's Day?" He reached for her credit card and swiped it through the reader.

Clarice placed her hand on the countertop. "Well, if I have the right offer, I may be inclined to spend the day with someone. But, being recently divorced, the only offers I get are from newly divorced men who definitely don't want to even recognize Valentine's Day." She grinned.

Devon took in the new information. Divorced. Seemed happy about it. He wondered what her story was. He pulled the receipt from the machine and slid it toward her for her signature. Taking a chance, he lightly stroked her finger before pulling his hand back.

Her eyes flicked to his.

Devon felt heat. Oh yeah, there was a definite reaction to his touch. There was a whisper of confusion in her gaze but it was quickly replaced with interest before she looked down to sign the receipt.

"I'm going to take a shot here," Devon said, "Would you like to have coffee sometime?"

Clarice laid the pen down and slid the signed receipt back to him. She tilted her head. "Coffee?" One corner of her luscious lips rose. "With me?"

"Yes. With you." He separated the two copies of the receipt and placed hers in the bag along with her books. "If you have time, that is. And you wouldn't mind being seen with the likes of someone like me." He placed his hand over his heart.

That laugh came again. "I happen to like the way you look. It's very ... arresting."

Devon grinned. "Well, that's the first time I've been told I look 'arresting'. Doesn't involve the police does it?" He slid the bag with her books toward her.

She tilted her chin down coyly. "You wouldn't be a wild one, would you? No, I don't think so. You wouldn't have asked me for coffee if you were."

Devon leaned forward, parking his elbows on the counter. "Have coffee with me and find out."

She picked up the bag of books and adjusted the strap of her purse. Then she reached out her hand, palm up. "My credit card?"

Devon cleared his throat. "Sure. Sorry." He picked up her card from where he'd laid it on the ledge of the cash register. When he placed it in her hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers. "Coffee? Tomorrow?"

He watched her take a slow breath. She didn't pull her hand back. Good sign.

"Tomorrow." She searched his eyes.

"Yes."

She hesitated.

"Please? Indulge me." Devon smiled what he hoped wasn't a suggestive smile. He was afraid that he would scare her off.

Finally, she nodded. "Alright. Where and when?"

"The Corner Café? Around ten?"

She sucked in another deep breath. "I know the place. I'll meet you there."

"It's a date."

Clarice withdrew her hand ever so slowly from his. "Just coffee."

He gave her a quick nod. "Just coffee." He could swear he saw a blush in her cheeks. Another good sign.

"Clarice, are you ready yet? I have to get home to fix dinner," a woman, the one she had entered the store with, said from behind her.

Clarice cleared her throat. "Yeah. Okay, Jan." Credit card still in her hand, she turned. "I'm ready."

"See you tomorrow," Devon said.

Clarice looked back, nodded then smiled.

"What just happened?" Jan asked, grabbing Clarice's arm as they exited the store.

Clarice felt a fluttering in her stomach, one that was not unpleasant. "What? I bought some books."

Jan pinched her.

"Ow!" Clarice jerked her arm away. "What was that for?

"Did you just agree to have coffee with that kid?" Jan's eyes were narrowed.

"He's not a kid."

"Yes, Clarice ... he is. What do you think you're doing?"

Clarice quickened her pace toward the mall exit. She didn't like the way this conversation was going. "I'm having coffee with Devon tomorrow. At ten o'clock in the morning. Don't read more into it than it is."

Jan kept up with her. "I think those books you've been reading have gone straight to your head."

Clarice stopped just in front of the exit. "What have these books got to do with anything?" She lifted the bag that contained her new stash. "I'm having coffee with someone. It's no big deal."

Jan's face grew red, her lips forming a thin line. "Okay. I won't say any more about it. But, Clarice, getting involved with someone like that kid in the bookstore..."

"Argh!" Clarice swung around and pushed through the door, walking out into the frosty air. Her shoes crunched in the snow as she headed for the parking lot. The crisp, cold air felt good ... especially since she was beginning to get hot under the collar.

"Clarice! Clarice, wait up!"

Clarice stopped beside her car and turned. She waited until Jan picked her way over the slushy parking lot and finally came up to stand in front of her.

Jan sighed and brushed a hand over her hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to act like your mother or something."

Clarice took a breath, then blew it out. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

Jan reached out and touched her arm. "But I do worry about you. You're my best friend and I worry that you're going to get hurt again."

"Again?" Clarice smiled. "Jan, I've told you--I'm good about the divorce. Wayne didn't hurt me by leaving. Separating was something that we should have done long ago."

"Well, okay but ... just don't jump into something you're not prepared for. You hear about it all the time. People get divorced after so many years of marriage then they feel like they have to rush and make up for the time they lost. They do some strange things, sometimes, you know?" Her forehead was creased with worry. "I don't want to see you going that route."

Clarice knew what Jan was talking about. So many men, and women too, got divorced after a long term marriage and the first thing they did was find a younger partner to try to recapture their youth. Youth wasted during the years spent in a marriage that wasn't what they wanted after all. Clarice didn't feel like that though. Even though she felt 'released', she wasn't going searching for some young buck to bring back her younger days. If she was going to do that, she would have done it long before now. Goodness, her yearning for someone in her bed was growing stronger every day but that didn't mean she was going to jump in the sack with just anyone.

Of course, Devon is tempting to break that little rule with, she thought. Very tempting.

"Clarice?"

Clarice shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Whoa, the thought of Devon taking her to bed had hypnotized her for a second. "Sorry. I kind of drifted off there for a second."

Jan smiled tightly. "I've got to go. Call me later okay?"

"Sure."

Jan turned and started mincing her way toward her own car. "Don't forget to call," she said over her shoulder.

"I won't," Clarice said, pushing the button on her keychain to unlock her door.

Clarice shut down the computer and stretched her arms above her head. A good deal of work was done on the new client's site. Time to take a break. She glanced at the clock.

Where had the time gone? It was after eleven. She'd been working for four hours straight and time had a way of standing still when she was working and things were coming together so easily. Clarice was truly enjoying this project. So different from the business websites she usually created. This one had a sensuality and romance about it.

Romance.

Devon.

Pushing up out of her chair, Clarice shook her head. "Devon would be an indulgence. Sindulgence would be more like it, girl." She stretched as she walked toward the bathroom, her back tight from sitting for so long. Clarice let out a laugh, entering the bathroom and turning on the light. "You're so out of shape, woman. You wouldn't be able to handle someone like Devon if you should happen to lure him into your bed."

Bending down to turn on the water in the tub, she felt a rush of heat at the thought. Devon, his dark dangerous looks with that tall, lithe body, in her bed. In her dreams. She'd better quit this line of thinking before she had coffee with him tomorrow. Otherwise she might just make a fool of herself.

The tub filling with water, she wandered out into the living room. Where had she put that bag? Wanting a book to read while she relaxed in the tub, she scanned the room.

This was one thing that she never did while she and Wayne were together. Relax in the tub with a book, not worrying about how long she spent there. It was one of the things that she enjoyed tremendously now that she was on her own. Just one of the many things that she now had time for since she didn't have to worry about taking care of someone else.

There it was, beside the couch.

Clarice bent down to pick it up.

The phone rang.

"Crap."

She straightened and rushed to the kitchen, grabbing the receiver on the second ring. "Hello?" She glanced toward the bathroom, wondering how full the tub was.

"Hey Mom, how are you?"

"James! Hi! Can you hold on for just a minute?"

"Sure."

Clarice laid the receiver on the kitchen table and rushed to shut the bath water off.

Hurrying back and picking up the phone again, she smiled widely. "Okay. I'm back."

"How've you been?" James asked. "I haven't talked to you in a few days."

Clarice leaned her shoulder against the wall. James Allen Johnson, twenty-three years old and her only son ... the love of her life. "I'm doing fine. Working. Spending some time with friends. What have you been up to?"

James laughed. "You don't want to know, Mom. Believe me."

"Not fair. I tell you what I've been doing, you have to tell me." Clarice didn't worry about James. He had a good head on his shoulders, a good job and a lovely girlfriend. Hopefully he'd make her his wife before long.

"Well, I asked Tracey to marry me," he said.

Clarice screamed into the phone. "What did she say!?"

"Mom--calm down," he said laughing. "She said yes."

"Oh James, I'm so pleased. Oh my gosh..."

"It won't be for a while yet so don't go making plans..."

"Are you kidding? I'm already thinking about my dress." Clarice felt pure joy fill her. James--married. Grandkids? Oh geez...

"I just wanted to call and tell you." James said, sounding very proud and grown up. "Would you mind telling Dad?"

The joy factor went down in a freefall. "James..."

"Please?"

Clarice sighed. "Okay. I'll tell him. If I can get in touch with him."

"There's no rush. I don't expect him to be very excited about it anyway."

Clarice nodded even though James couldn't see her. She knew exactly what he was saying. Wayne didn't like to acknowledge that he had a twenty-three-year-old son. It made Wayne realize his age. "I'll take care of it. But I'm excited. Give Tracey my love, would you?"

"I will. I've gotta go."

"Bye baby."

Twenty minutes later and still on a soon-to-be-mother-in-law high, Clarice eased into the tub and slid down. Then she opened the book.

Something fell out into the water. A white piece of paper. She snatched it up and shook it. "What the heck?" It couldn't be her receipt. She had that. What could it be? She laid the book on the edge of the tub and with wet fingers, opened the sheet of paper...

Dear Clarice,

I know that this is forward of me but I thought that maybe I should let you know that you intrigue me. I see something in your eyes that draws me, beckons me to want to know more about you.

I'm going to ask you to coffee when you come in the store again. I hope you'll accept.

Don't let the difference in our ages deter you.

I may look the part of the 'college guy' who is a bit on the dark side, but I assure you that I am not what you think.

Take a chance, Clarice.

Get to know me.

Devon

The hand that held the note trembled.

A surge of excitement filtered through her.

As she refolded the note, Clarice bit her lip.

'Take a chance' he'd written.

Should she?

Devon closed the book.

Hmm. This was what she was reading. Erotic romance. Makes a guy wonder, he thought.

Devon had paid attention to the titles she had purchased today and bought the same three after he had closed up the store. The last three hours, he'd spent reading one of them while he sipped a glass of brandy, lying on the couch in his apartment. He had wanted to get a glimpse into what she enjoyed.

Whoa.

Devon sipped the last of the brandy, liquid warmth issuing through his system. It wasn't only the warmth from the brandy he was feeling inside. He felt like he needed a cold shower. What was setting him on fire was picturing Clarice reading this book. He rose from the couch and walked into the small, neat kitchen. Rinsing his glass in the sink, he faced the window above it and looked out into the night.

Was Clarice lying in bed right now, reading? Alone? Was she feeling tiny flames of desire and lust flicker inside as she read the scene in the book where the man first tasted the woman's moist core, slowly running his tongue over her pink-flushed folds as she writhed beneath his mouth in ecstasy, calling out his name as she clutched the bed sheets? Did Clarice ache for someone to touch her, feel a man's hand on her soft curves, tracing the woman that she is, bringing her intensity to the surface with his caress? Would she enjoy it? Was she yearning for an experience like the one in the book, her sheets dampening with dewy heat from her body as she read, wishing that she wasn't alone in her empty bed?

Devon placed the glass in the sink and turned off the water.

"Clarice," he whispered, looking out the window into the velvet black of the night, aching for something he couldn't put into words.