The library’s walls were lined with ornate wooden shelves and what looked like an eclectic selection of books. There was a rosewood desk, a patterned area rug and two cream-colored wingback chairs with ottomans that complemented a compact leather chair positioned behind the desk. The room was surprisingly feminine, with touches of pattern china and figurines placed beside the books, and the occasional watercolor seascape recessed into the shelves.

“My mother used to like this room,” said Lucas.

“Are you sure you want me to use it?” She’d been complaining about her deadline to make a point, and to have an excuse to go to bed. She hadn’t intended for Lucas to try to solve her problem.

“Yes. Of course.” He set her laptop on the desk and turned to face her where she stood a few steps into the room. “You need somewhere quiet to concentrate.”

“Once Amelia is asleep-”

He leaned back against the desk, bracing his hands on either side. “You said you had a deadline.”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll let the nanny monitor Amelia, and you will-”

“Are you trying to keep me away from Amelia?”

His brows went up in obvious shock. “No,” he answered simply.

She was inclined to believe him, and she felt her guard go down a notch.

“Then, what are you doing?” she asked. Why did he care about her deadline?

“I’m offering you a place to work.”

She studied his expression, the tight mouth, cool slate eyes, dark imposing brow. “You’re being nice to me,” she accused. “So?”

“So, it’s out of character. So, I’m trying to figure out what you’re up to.”

“I’m not a monster, Devin.”

The sound of her name made her chest go tight. “But you are rather cold-blooded.”

Silence followed her words.

Then he straightened away from the desk. He took a step toward her, then another, and another. A glow of awareness crept into his eyes. “Devin,” he whispered. “At the moment, I am not feeling even remotely cold-blooded.”