A/n: Mmm. Review?

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Chapter 4

(Since several people wanted) Edward POV

I was absolutely positive that I was at the beginning a very bad, or a very, very good dream.

Because there was absolutely no way Isabella Swan would turn up to work wearing that.

The only reason I was even sure that it was Isabella was that the woman before me was wearing a pair of scruffy old trainers, that I'd seen walk though the doors of my store hundreds of times over the last few years.

They'd replaced her old white ones three months, two weeks, and four days after her first job interview here. Since she'd gotten them, she'd only worn another pair of shoes nine times: a pair of unlaced red Vans.

My sister Alice tends to think of me as a stalker these days.

She might call it an obsession; but I call it love.

Oh yes, I, the womanizing, chauvinist Edward Cullen, am in love.

Actually, I'd been in love with her since high school; not that she had any idea.

The first time I saw her had been during the winter of my seventeenth year on the planet. My family had moved from Alaska to Seattle three years beforehand; and I'd been working in a bookshop near my home since we'd arrived. Usually, we weren't very busy, which was great for me: I got paid to do almost nothing save stacking a few books and serving a few customers a day. I'd gotten an easy ride.

That night, it was two hours until closing time, and one of the slowest days I'd ever worked. I sat glumly behind my desk, with a book in hand, and no customers in the store. I'd quickly become lost in my novel.

Until, suddenly, the shop bell rang. I quickly pushed my book down under the counter, and straightened myself up as a potential customer walked inside.

I'd say it was love at first sight, but it wasn't, though it was very close.

The first time I saw her, she was struggling inside; there was a storm blowing outside of the door, and the wind was whipping around her small frame. A massive blue raincoat was wrapped around her little body like a blanket, and her chocolate hair was plastered to her pale face. Her coat gave way to baggy black trousers, under which small white trainers poked out form. Her hands were tiny, and covered with little, fluffy grey gloves, which she quickly pulled off, and shoved into her pockets when she was inside.

Then she pushed her hair back from her face, and I got a glimpse of an absolutely beautiful girl. Perfect pink lips, button nose, and massive brown doe eyes that I could easily get lost in.

I was in lust.

Her eyes didn't meet mine across the room or anything, in fact, she didn't even look at me; but a moment later, the lust had melted into adoration, which must have been where my love developed from.

She headed straight for the classics section.

That was Isabella Swan's fatal error. Any other section, and she might purely have remained an object of my libido's infatuation. But when she headed towards my favourite part of the shop, my mind kicked into gear, and told me that she was special.

And my heart was quick to agree.

For the first time in my life, it seemed as though my body was working in unison. It made me unexpectedly happy.

That night, she purchased three books, Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, and David Copperfield. Whilst she paid, she blushed bright red and mumbled something about her copies 'falling apart'.

I could barely speak to tell her how much they cost, and to 'have a good evening'.

I'll never forget the first tiny smile she gave me as she said 'you too', before heading out of the shop, and into the night.

The next morning, I signed up to do as much overtime work as I could, and I was lucky enough to see her on several more occasions. Unfortunately, I never got to serve her directly again, since I was stacking books on each occasion. Every time I saw her walk out the door, I felt my heart ache. Every time I saw her walk away, I promised myself that I would see her again, and that I would talk to her.

But I never got the chance, since shortly after my eighteenth birthday, the owner of the bookshop passed away, and I lost my job; and the only link I had with the brown eyed beauty.

I packed up soon after, and did my time at college. I majored in music, and minored in literature at Dartmouth. I returned to Seattle when I was done, and opened up my own bookstore.

By that time, I'd firmly established a reputation; and it wasn't a particularly nice or good one.

Everybody knew that I liked women, and women loved me.

I wasn't the sixteen year old Edward who worked in a bookstore any more. I was Edward Cullen, the womanizer, who owner a bookstore. And I couldn't say I wasn't happy about it. I had a lot of sex; all my friends were jealous, and I got to watch girls flounce around my shop all day.

But my life was far from happy: it felt empty.

Until Isabella Swan turned up, looking for a job.

I'd not been looking for any new employees, but she turned up and handed a CV to me when I was working behind the counter one day, and the next day, I rang her up and told her to start the following Monday.

I would have recognised that woman anywhere. She'd not changed much since I'd last seen her, save to get a little more mature; and a little more beautiful. Her clothes were almost exactly the same, but now when I looked at her, she looked to be the same age as myself. The couple of years I'd assumed were between us could not be seen.

I'd interviewed her, of course, after overseeing her first day. She spoke very little, but the things she did say were said in a beautiful low alto voice, and the things she spoke of brought flutters to my chest. We had the same taste in books. All of those she'd named were on my long list of best reads. I don't know why it made me so happy, but it did.

She'd worked for me ever since, and I dreaded the day she would leave, to move onto bigger things.

But even now, three years down the line, I'd still never had the confidence to ask her out. I'd come close, several times, but ultimately I'd failed. I'd realised soon after she started working that I could not treat her the same way as I'd treated other women. I would never sleep with Isabella, then leave her, like I did with Jessica, and Lauren, and Tanya.

No, if I had Isabella, I wanted all of her. I wanted her to love me.

So every day, I watched her, and tried to pluck up the courage to ask her for a date. And every time I didn't, I found someone else to spend the night with. My most popular choice was Jessica; the only other brunette in the shop. At least with her I could almost imagine that it was Isabella.

Almost.

Jessica's clothes were nothing like Isabella's. When I stripped her, I tried to imagine what Isabella would wear. She was modest; and sweet. I imagined she would wear something cute, that covered her, and kept her comfortable. Nothing too sexy. No thongs. The best image I'd come up with was a white bra, and white panties. Virginal.

Not that I knew whether Isabella was a virgin or not - but she seemed to sweet to be anything else.

Her sweetness made me feel protective. I thanked god daily that she wore such unrevealing clothes, because there were few men who'd look at her lustfully whilst Lauren or Jessica were strutting around wearing belt-like skirts, and low cut tops that showed off their silicon.

I alone admired Isabella.

But apparently that was no longer going to be the case, I realised, as I watched her stack books onto a shelf at the back of the shop. I held in a groan as she stretched up and placed several books on a high shelf; and stepped several steps closer as she bent downwards to collect more.

I heard her gorgeous giggles as she picked up another few books, and I wondered what she was thinking about. She dropped one of them, and I watched as she reached over and picked it up. Her glorious backside, I couldn't help but notice, was thrust up in the air behind her, and, as she straightened up, I couldn't help but let out a gasp.

She immediately span around at the noise, but over onto the delectable rear I'd been admiring only moments before. The books fell around her randomly, and her face lit up in a beautiful cherry red blush.

I couldn't help it as my eyes flickered down again to her skirt, just in time to see a flash of skin before her legs snapped shut.

Shit.

Isabella didn't appear to be wearing any underwear, and I felt myself getting extremely hard, extremely quickly.

"Uh, hi, E-Edward", she said quietly, still a pile of gorgeous limbs on the floor.

"Isabella", was all I could say back: her name felt like honey dripping off my tongue.

I did the only thing I could think of, and helped her to get up and collect her books; attempting to give her a smile that didn't say 'I want to fuck you so hard you can't walk for a week - then marry you'. Then I helped her stack the books on the shelf, enjoying our closeness, and hating it at the same time, since I couldn't get any closer.

"No problem", I told her when she thanked me, and then I made my way stiffly away.

Isabella Swan, I realised as I got back to my office, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and the possible love of my life was somewhere in my shop, with a ridiculously clingy outfit on…and no panties.

Fuck.

A/n: Well. Where did all that come from? Um….I have no idea either…love Edward. Mwhaha. Review? not really sure how well this chapter flows...or goes...and stuff...