"Are you Samantha?" The old lady sitting behind the front counter asked me. "Yes," I said confused, wondering how she knew my name. It was not like I...came in here often. "Mr. Jacobs asked me to watch out for you," she smiled sweetly. "He is in his office." "His office?" Once again my question was full of confusion. "Yes," she laughed, stepping out from behind the counter. "Let me show you where it is located." "Why would Mr. Jacobs have an office at the library?" I asked her, genuinely. Short ringlets framed a soft, almost cherubic face but for the wide, smiling mouth and sharp green eyes that spoke of mischief. She wore a pair of tattered denim shorts and a plain pink t-shirt which clung to her chest in the hot summer air and drew my eyes before I could regain control. Was she really talking to me?She giggled and held out her hand. "I'm Sandy." Her voice had a hint of that soft southern drawl that I so often found annoying but in her it was almost sexy.I stuttered and tore my. More

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