He sneaked a glance at the stripper again and she wasn’t looking at him as though he was a stupid kid anymore, because being in a band somehow changed that.

I’m in love.

“ISN’T THIS THE SECOND marriage proposal you’ve turned down?” asked Trixie. “Face it, Rach, you’re a heartbreaker.”

“With that imagination you should be writing fiction, not shelving academia.” Kneeling on the floor, Rachel Robinson snipped through the tape on the carton of books addressed to Auckland University library, then glanced at her assistant.

“I’m a thirty-four-year-old librarian, not Scarlett O’Hara, and Paul is probably breathing a sigh of relief right about now.” At least she hoped he was. He’d been upset last night-and she still was. Both of them had expected her to say yes.

“That’s another thing,” said Trixie with the bluntness of youth. “Rejecting proposals is poor policy for a woman who wants a family. You may look twenty-nine but your ovaries are knocking thirty-five.”

Normally her protégée’s homespun lectures were entertaining, coming as they did from a twenty-year-old Goth-wannabe with dyed black hair and a nose stud. Today they struck a nerve. “Maybe I’m meant to devote my life to my work.”

“Now that’s just crazy talk.”

At the other end of the counter, a student approached the help desk and pressed the buzzer. “Yours,” said Rachel thankfully. The first day of the university year didn’t start until tomorrow, but the smart ones were getting in early.

Trixie bent and gave Rachel a fierce, parting hug. “I hate it when you’re unhappy. Go tell Paul you’ve changed your mind.”

So much for putting on a brave face. Hauling the books out of the carton and stacking them under the counter, Rachel wished it was as simple as that. Lately her left brain didn’t know what her right brain was doing. Tentatively prodding her feelings, she found no regret or remorse, only a guilty seam of rock-solid relief.

Standing, she closed her eyes, breathing in the heady smell of institutional tranquility, and tried to internalize it. Help me, she prayed silently. Why do I run every time I’m close to marriage?

Someone cleared his throat and Rachel opened her eyes. A man waited, impatiently frowning at her.

He was dressed in faded jeans with slashed knees and a too-tight olive-green T-shirt stretched over muscled biceps. Ruggedly tanned, he had sun-streaked russet-brown hair curling past his collar.

It wasn’t that he had a five o’clock shadow at nine-thirty in the morning that screamed “bad boy.” To Rachel’s eyes, that simply made him scruffy. And most certainly his menace wasn’t in his boots, butter-soft leather and, good Lord, purple?

No, it was the arrogant way he stood-feet planted wide, arms folded across his impressive chest. It was the dragon tattoo curling the length of one muscled arm. But mostly it was the sleepy sensuality in the hooded hazel eyes casually scanning Rachel as if she were part of a female buffet. She got the impression he was already very full but might possibly squeeze in dessert-if it was handed to him on a plate.

The woman in her bristled, but the librarian mustered a professional smile. “Can I help you?”

The man didn’t smile back. “I heard there was a library tour for those new to the college.” His voice was deep, his accent American.

Rachel reached for her timetable. “You’re a day early, but if you give me your name I’ll book you in for tomorrow.”

There was a brief hesitation. “Devin Freedman.”

“Devin. Spelled o-n or i-n?”

His mouth relaxed its tight line. “I-n.”

“I can give you an informal look around now if you like.”

For some reason his guard went up again. “I don’t want any special treatment.”

“You must be a student,” she said drily. “If you were a lecturer you wouldn’t say that.”

Narrow-eyed, he assessed her, and Rachel nearly told him to lighten up. Then a thought struck her. “Oh, Lord, you are a new lecturer.”

A smile broke through the guy’s suspicion. It did strange things to Rachel’s stomach. Or it could be she’d been too upset about Paul to eat breakfast.

“No,” he said, “not a lecturer. And I would appreciate a tour. It’s going to be hard enough tomorrow being the oldest student here.”

“Don’t worry, we have quite a few adult students. I assume you’re part-time?”

“Full-time.”

Rachel hid her surprise. Except for the boots, he didn’t look as if he could afford to pay the fees without working. On the other hand, with that body, he probably made good money working nights in a male revue. She said briskly, “What degree?”

“Bachelor of commerce.”

“Okay, Devin…my name’s Rachel Robinson and you’re in luck. I’m the subject librarian for business and finance. Follow me.” She spent the next fifteen minutes walking him through the library, while he listened intently, saying little. “You’re American,” she commented at one point.

“No.”

Okay, we don’t do small talk. “We have a few library tutorials of interest to you. Let me get you some brochures.” She led him back to the counter and started rummaging through a filing cabinet.

“I’m sure I saw him come in here.” The voice was female, very young and slightly breathless.

Another responded with a giggle, “Do you think he’d sign my bra?”

Startled, Rachel looked up. Devin had vanished and three teenagers milled around the entry, two girls and a boy.

“You promised you’d be cool about this if I brought you,” the youth complained. Then he caught Rachel’s eye and lowered his voice. “Shush, let’s just go in and look.”

“Can I help you?” Rachel asked in her best librarian’s voice.

The boy dropped his gaze. “Uh, no, we’re just looking for someone.”

“Famous,” added one of the girls, smoothing down her skirt and scanning the rows of books.

Rachel stepped into her line of sight. “So you’re not here to use the facilities of the library?”

“No,” the girl replied, “but-”

“Then it’s better if you wait outside for whoever-”

“Devin Freedman.” There was worship in the boy’s tone.

“-you’re waiting for,” Rachel continued. “If you’re sure he’s here?”

That sowed enough doubt for them to start arguing among themselves as they left.

When they’d gone, she looked for Devin and found him leaning against a bookshelf in aisle three. He straightened at her approach, his expression wary. “As I was saying,” she continued, “we have a few one-hour tutorials of interest to you. A library and resources overview, an introduction to our online library catalog…” She stopped because he wasn’t listening, then added softly, “And I can show you the staff exit when you’re ready to leave.”

His attention snapped back to her. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry, I still have no idea who you are,” she admitted.

“That makes two of us.” He saw her bafflement and shrugged wide shoulders. “I was a guitarist in a band that did well.”

And now you’re going back to school? But he probably had enough of people prying into his private life. “That’s why I don’t know your name then. I don’t keep up with contemporary pop.”

He winced. “Rock.”

“Excuse me?”

“We were rock.”

Something in his pained tone made her smile. “Was that like comparing Gilbert and Sullivan to Puccini?”

An answering glint lit his eyes. “Sorry, I’m not an opera buff. It’s always struck me as a bunch of overemoting prima donnas going mad or dying.”

“Whereas rock and roll…?”

Devin laughed. “You’re right,” he conceded, “no difference.” He thrust out a hand. “Anyway, thanks for your help.” She took the warm tapered fingers, careful to avoid the dragon’s tongue flicking at the tip of one knuckle. “I’ll hang around a bit longer till the coast clears,” he added. “Read the brochures.”

“If it’s any consolation, they run a tight ship here,” she said. “I doubt you’ll get harassed past the first day.”