This Monday was one of the quiet ones. Of course. I really wanted to be busy, to take my mind off the confusing events of the past week, but the most exciting thing that happened was catching a twelve-year-old girl trying to sneak out a copy of a new magazine that featured a cover article about her favorite boy band. I caught her on the way out the door, explained her options to her, and gave her a Kleenex when she started crying. Josh Finstermeyer of the overdue books saw me standing with the weeping girl, and hid behind the stacks to see if I'd stick bamboo under her fingernails. He clearly regarded me as the devil incarnate. I had to confess, it sort of gave me a thrill to be considered so formidable.

Tracy, the young woman from Molly's Moveable Feasts, came in. She waved to me while giving me a brilliant smile, and settled in a chair to read some newspapers. I guessed nothing was happening at the movie set yet.

About ten minutes before five o'clock, Robin loped through the glass doors. His long legs ate up yards of carpet like nobody's business. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and he was wearing khakis, a sharply pressed shirt obviously fresh from the laundry, and an old corduroy jacket. All he needed was a pipe clenched between his teeth, or maybe a golden retriever on a leash.

I was shelving books and, after he located me, he followed me as I trundled the little cart.

"When do you get off today?" he asked in a low, library voice. He pressed his hand against my back at my waist and left it there, while I put a Lauren Henderson book back on the shelf. His hand felt very warm. After a second or two, I began to feel a little warm.

"At five," I said, glad to hear my voice come out cool and controlled.

The next book on the cart was Linda Howard's, and she was on the top shelf. I stretched up as far as I could and still could not quite slide Ms. Howard into the right slot. Robin stepped closer to help, and after the book was in place, he stayed right behind me ... in fact, so right behind me that he was sort of nudging me.

"Robin," I said, a little question in my voice. Spooned, that was what we were. My curves... his—oh.

"Mmmm?"

"The book is where it's supposed to be."

"And?"

"You should move."

He sighed. "If I must," he said, and stepped back a little.

I smiled at the books in front of me. "I assume you had a purpose in coming to the library?" I resumed rolling the cart. I may have headed down a deserted row. In fact, there was nothing to shelve at all in this area.

"I heard there was a very strict librarian here," he said innocently.

I half-turned to give him a look, my eyes wide. This was a whole new ball game, one I'd never played. Hmmm.

"Oh, yes, very strict," I said, trying to sound calm and assured. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I found myself quite interested in finding out.

"One who might punish me severely for having an overdue book," Robin said.

"Have you been talking to Josh Finstermeyer?" I blurted.

Robin looked disconcerted. "Who's he?" he asked.

"That boy in the corner who's trying to hide behind the shelves."

Robin looked as if he was having trouble suppressing a laugh. "Robbing the cradle, are we?"

I sighed. "Can we get back on track here?"

"I don't know; if Josh Finstermeyer is your beverage of choice..."

"Robin!" I growled. I felt that everyone in the library was watching us, and I was right. Perry was taking a gander, as was young Josh, to say nothing of Tracy, who'd lowered her newspaper to stare. I felt my face turning red.

"I have two overdue books," Robin said, his face suddenly serious. His voice was soft and significant. I looked up at him. "Two," he emphasized. He waggled his eyebrows.

"That's... very bad." I narrowed my eyes. For the first time in my life, I wished I had a riding crop. I would flick it against my boot.

He bent down to my ear. "I turned down the corners of some of the pages," he whispered.

"You do need to be punished. At length," I said. I raised my eyebrows to make sure he'd get it. "At length," I repeated.

He was a little pink himself.

"Maybe you should come to my room tonight," he said, very low. "To collect my fine."

I decided to escalate.

"Why not now?" I said coolly. I glanced at the clock. "I'm off work." I gave him a challenging look.

His eyes widened behind his glasses. He ran a hand through his hair, which looked as if he'd been doing that all day.

"Can you hold this mood on the drive out to the motel?" he whispered in my ear. Very close.

"It's entirely possible." My house was a lot closer, but I knew without considering the idea closely that my house was out. I cast a blessing at him for not suggesting it.

"Then let's go."

"I'll go clock out."

"You remember my room number?"

"Yes."

"I'll be waiting for you."

"You'd better be," I said, in my stern librarian persona.

"Ooooh," he breathed, giving me a look that let me know for sure he was into this.

I clocked out and retrieved my purse in record time, and was getting into my car in the employee parking lot behind the library when I saw Tracy approaching. Oh, heck, no! I was in a mood, and I didn't want to get out.

I decided if I were behaving uncharacteristically, I'd just go all the way. I pretended I didn't see her and pulled out of the parking lot when she was just a few feet away.

I had other fish to fry.

Robin, probably as uncertain as I was, was still fully dressed when I knocked on his door. But he had lit some candles and drawn the curtains tight.

"On your back, miscreant," I said sternly. I had always wanted to say "miscreant."

There was delight in the crooked smile, quickly smothered by a very well assumed expression of fear. "It was just two books," he pled, stepping out of his shoes and socks and lying on his back on the bed. Yep, he was excited, all right.

"That's two books too many," I told me. "You have to learn your lesson." With an expression of severity, I began unbuttoning my blouse. "What's the worst punishment you can think of, you... scofflaw?"

Robin winced, and I could tell I would pay for that one, later. "The worst punishment," he said thoughtfully. "The worst punishment would be to have to perform sexually, again and again—with only the briefest breaks for naps and food—for a small naked woman with ..." His eyes widened. I'd taken off my bra. "Oh, boy," he breathed.

I climbed on the bed and straddled him. As I looked down at him, his eyes darkened. I took his glasses off and put them by mine on the bedside table. "Can you think of anything that would make that punishment worse?" I murmured, bending down to him. My lips were an inch from his. My hair fell around his face.

"I would be forced to make you come twice for every one time I do," he said, his voice rough and deep.

"Then I guess you better get started."