By the time we reached the top, my eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the lack of light. I stumbled over something, probably my own feet. My cheeks burned. The carpet quieted his footsteps so well I couldn’t tell where he was.
“Why do you keep it so dark in here, Mr. Hathaway?” Even I heard the tiny wobble of fear in my voice. If he jumped out at me, I’d probably punch him in the face. He scared me and my fight instinct was definitely winning over flight at the moment
I squealed when something warm gripped my wrist. My free fist swung in a reflex action, connecting with something solid. Probably his chest by the grunt he expelled.
“Easy,” he said, wrapping his fingers around my arm. “What are you so afraid of?”
That you’ll strangle me and throw me down the garbage chute? That you’ll rip off my clothes and ravage me against the wall in the dark?
I willed my voice into its calm, happy place. “I’m not afraid of anything. I’d just like to know what’s with you and the dark.”
At what point had our relationship moved along to touching?
He pulled me along while I tried to yank my hand back, fighting the tingles spreading up my arm and into my southern regions. I would not get all twitterpated over the Big Cheese, no matter how pretty he was. I wouldn’t.
A door clicked open and light flooded around me. I squinted, my lashes fluttering against the sudden brightness.
“Better?” he said.
The amusement in his voice raised my hackles, but my retort drifted away as I peered beyond the door.
We entered a large square room, one entire wall covered with ginormous LCD monitors, each displaying a split screen of four feeds from security cameras in the building.
I said the first words that popped into my head. “Wow. Cool.”
He raised an eyebrow and turned away, probably to hide his eye roll. Jerk.
I frowned, rolling around possibilities in my head of what he wanted from me. “What exactly do you want me to do for you, Mr. Hathaway?”
“Are you always so direct, or just with me?”
I glowered at him, fiddling with a button on my shirt. “I like to get to the point. That a problem for you?”
He sighed and opened a computer cabinet at the back of the room beside a long, cherry-wood desk. “The surveillance equipment is old and failing. I want recommendations to replace the cameras and a better method of storing the footage.” He leaned on the cabinet door and stared at me. “When can you have it done?”
Some tension eased out of my shoulders. Real work I’d gladly do. I thought maybe he might have made me scrub his toilet or something. “Installed or just recommended?”
“The proposal only.”
I moved closer to the humming bank of servers in the cabinet, concentrating on the equipment instead of his nearness and the way his pants hugged what I imagined to be a fine, firm ass. “I’ll start an inventory of your hardware now. That’ll probably take an hour or so. After that, I can spend the afternoon doing some research for the latest and greatest in video camera solutions and call up our regular suppliers. As long as they’re prompt with their replies, I should be able to have something for you tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll expect it by noon tomorrow then.”
My stomach flip-flopped. I hoped I hadn’t shot myself in the foot with that deadline.
He started for the door. “I have some work to do. If you need any supplies, talk to Brent.”
“I don’t need to write anything down.” I tapped my temple. “I just need a soda. Is there a vending machine on this floor?” I didn’t think well on so little sleep. Caffeine made me loopy, but to get his task done, I’d risk turning into a psychotic humming bird.
He pointed to a small stainless steel cabinet under the long counter beneath the wall of monitors. “Help yourself.”
“Uh … thanks.”
God, I stammered on like a total moron. I seriously needed a pick-me-up.
With a nod, Mr. Hathaway exited and shut the door behind him. I didn’t know whether to jump for joy or be terrified. Something told me he wasn’t easily impressed.
I opened the door of the cabinet and discovered a small bar fridge inside. Tidy rows of Coke and root beer populated the first shelf. I reached for a Coke first, but a familiar can in the door caught my eye. Little warnings shouted from the back of my mind, but I ignored them and reached for the Red Bull. I gulped it down and got to work inspecting the contents of the computer cabinet.
* * * *
By the time I finished looking over the equipment in the surveillance office, the caffeine buzzed through my body like a bad acid trip. I tried pacing to slow my heart rate and burn off some of the excess energy, but it only made the rainbow ripples overlaying my vision that much brighter. If Mr. Hathaway found me that hyper, he’d probably send me off to a drug treatment program or the company shrink. Walking would help.
I needed to check out the physical cameras, anyway, so I took note of their locations from the schematic on the wall by the door and set off to make sure they were all the same model.
Instead of taking the elevator, I galloped down the stairs to the nineteenth floor and examined the three cameras there, humming to myself and prancing from foot to foot whenever I had to stop. All of the models were different. Just marvy. That meant I’d have to check all eighty of them to see which ones could be salvaged. As long as I kept myself moving, the caffeine high wouldn’t turn me into a giggling idiot and have me swinging from the nearest light fixture.
Forty-five minutes later, I made it back to my floor. Parched and jittery, I slipped into the lunchroom and bought a muffin and a bottle of water from the vending machine. Sitting wasn’t an option, so I leaned against the counter to eat my treat.
“Hey, Eva,” said a mellow voice.
My thoughts must have been off in la-la land, because I jerked so badly I choked on my muffin and my water flew out of my hand and gurgled out all over the linoleum. Gawd, why me?
Dave from Quality Control stooped to pick up the bottle, flashing a large grin from within his black goatee. He had that upside down triangular body that body builders and gymnasts had, though I couldn’t imagine him doing either. According to everyone else he was a total online gaming junky who lived on pizza and wine coolers. Weirdo.
I set the crushed remains of my muffin on the counter and unraveled some paper towels to mop up the mess.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I said through an exhale.
“Yeah, I noticed.” He held his hand out, his chin working unsuccessfully to contain his amusement. “Here, let me.”
I handed him the paper towels and patted my chest where my heart did its best to break free of my ribcage.
Dave finished up and stood in front of me. “You’re very cute when you jump like that.”
I did a double take and gaped at him, confused. “I’m what?”
“I said you’re cute, all flustered and rosy-faced.”
My cheeks blazed harder, and I turned my back to him, turning only enough to peer at him through a few strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. “I’m a lot of things, Dave, but cute has never been one of them.” I cleared my throat. “Is there something I can do for you?”
When he leaned against the counter beside me, I shuffled away.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go to a concert with me Friday night. My buddy’s the drummer in a band and they’re performing at a little club downtown.”
What, no gaming raids booked that night? “Oh, no, but thanks. Like I told your coworker last week, I don’t date.” I snatched my muffin from the counter and stared at it while my fingers picked at the crumbs.
“I thought you just told him that because he’s a total dweeb. Come on, Eva, it’ll be fun. You can meet me there if you want, and I’ll be a total gentleman, I promise.”
Yeah. Gentleman was a euphemism for “I’ll be all nice and sweet until you trust me enough to show me your girl goodies. Then I�
��ll fuck your best friend and laugh when you cry and tell me you believed we had something ‘special.’” Nu-uh. No thanks, pal—been there, done that, and had a lifetime supply of memories to prove it.
With a gargantuan effort, I forced my gaze back to him and manufactured a smile. “I appreciate it, Dave, but I’m not interested in dating. Have a good time, though.”
I sped out the door and down the hall fast enough I bumped into the FedEx guy and fled as his packages rained down behind me. With the turmoil of the last few days, tears threatened war at any moment. An army of wet soldiers poised on my lashes. If I stopped, the memories would overwhelm me. I’d be forced to watch the only person I’d ever given myself to break my heart again.
Never. Again.
* * * *
I returned to Mr. Hathaway’s surveillance room and spent the following two hours doing online research and hitting up my favorite suppliers, promising huge sales potential if they could save my life and call me back within the hour. The caffeine continued to wreak havoc in my body as I waited for the phone calls and e-mails to roll in. My legs burned with the need to run or jump or fly around the moon doing pirouettes. The quiet, other than the humming of the servers, made me jumpy so I pulled up a YouTube video on the computer attached directly to one of the wall monitors.
After starting up Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance,” I stepped out of the room, shut the door, and checked the volume. I couldn’t hear anything—another soundproof room. I didn’t see or hear any signs of Mr. Hathaway, either. I didn’t need him to catch me riding out the damn caffeine trip.
Back inside, I watched the video and tapped my foot.
The adrenaline coursing through my body and the infectious beat of the song urged me to my feet, mimicking the dance moves on the screen, gyrating my hips, singing to match the volume. The release of energy filled me with endorphins as I continued, straddling one of the office chairs and riding it like a cowgirl at the hussy rodeo.
The door clicked shut behind me.
I froze in midthrust when my spinning head reminded me where I was, who’d be behind me, and what I must look like to him, dry humping a chair and watching Lady Gaga while I was supposed to be working.
Fuckballs! Stupid Red Bull.
Chapter 6
I detangled myself from the chair, hopping on one leg, grunting. Nothing could have made me look at him in that moment. My skin burned. “Mr. Hathaway—”
“What are you doing, Ms. Ross?” His voice, low and even, rumbled into the room like the first warning crack of a thunderstorm.
Crap.
I grabbed the empty can of Red Bull from the desk in my trembling fist. “I had caffeine. I was tired and I drank a Red Bull even when I knew I shouldn’t because caffeine does funny things to me and I needed to work off some energy so I turned on some music.” I shook my head and put my hand over my eyes. “Shit, I sound like a rambling idiot.” My mouth fell open. “Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”
“So … this is how you amuse yourself? Dancing?”
His tone sounded different somehow, lighter, not so I’m-the-king-of-the-fucking-hill-ish. My gaze crawled up his body until I made it to his face, but he turned and stared at one of the surveillance monitors before I caught his expression.
Why didn’t he just yell at me and get it over with?
“Look, I’m sorry. Caffeine and sugar are like drugs to me, and no matter how tired I was, I should never have downed a Red Bull like that. I wanted to do a good job. The proposal is done. Well … except for the prices. It’s typed and ready. I’m just waiting for my suppliers to call back. I’ll have it done before I leave today.”
“Are you hungry?”
I squinted at him, certain I hadn’t heard him right. “Am I what, now?”
He angled himself toward me. The shine of his eyes betrayed his silent laughter. “I asked if you’re hungry.”
He was laughing at me?
Relief spread through me, a warm tingling from head to toe. The sight of his beautiful face, bright with humor, stole away my embarrassment and made me a little dizzy.
“You mean … you’re not mad?”
“Your work is done ahead of schedule. Why would I be angry?” He started for the door, giving me a full view of his splendiferous backside. “Go and eat your lunch. Food will take the edge off your … buzz.” He smoothed a hand down his face, his shoulders bouncing a little.
My cheeks grew hot again. Asshat.
“Actually, I don’t get very good reception on my BlackBerry here so I gave my suppliers my Gmail account and the extension in this office to call back. I don’t want to leave until I talk to them.”
“Then I’ll tell Brent to fetch two orders.”
What? On what universe had I landed where Mr. Hathaway was buying me lunch? Maybe the caffeine had taken me into an alternate dimension?
“Oh.” My brows pinched together. “Thanks, that’s generous of you, Mr. Hathaway.”
“Ben.”
I waited for him to say more, straining to hear in case I missed it. “Beg pardon?”
“You may call me Ben.”
I swallowed and searched the room for Candid Camera. “Okay. Ben.”
“I’ll call you when the food arrives.” Without sparing me another glance, he left and shut the door behind him.
I stood there for a while, scratching my head in utter confusion. Before meeting Mr. Hathaway, I thought I understood people, but wasn’t sure I’d ever understand that man. I’d always loved puzzles and he was a living, breathing one. With only one day to solve him before handing him back over to Cameron, I needed to get to work.
Half an hour later, I’d sweet-talked my supplier into an amazing deal on a new camera system. I was so totally going to knock his socks off with my talents.
Mr. Hathaway popped his head into the surveillance office. “Lunch is here.”
I grabbed my proposal from the printer and followed him into the dim hallway, practically skipping over the solution I’d put together. If that didn’t impress him, nothing would. He’d turned up the lights a little so I didn’t trip all over myself again.
We went through a door into a giant boardroom. A long, cherry-wood table stretched along the center of the rectangular room, and two rows of lights shone a muted glow from the ceiling. Black-and-white photographs held in black frames lined the cream-colored walls. It was tasteful, neat, and tidy, just as he was.
“How many rooms do you have up here, Mr. Hathaway?”
He pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table. “Ben.”
“Sorry.” I frowned, suddenly feeling a little queasy. “Ben.” Calling him by his first name sent little legged things crawling through my insides.
“I’ll give you a tour after lunch if you like.” After snapping out a cloth napkin and placing it across his lap, he opened a large paper bag on the table and withdrew two black trays with clear plastic lids. One, he set in front of him, and the other in front of the chair to his right.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.” I sat and squinted at the mystery package. Food and I had issues. Nothing went in my mouth that I couldn’t identify, and I had no name for whatever colorful tidbits lay within the plastic dome. “What is this?”
Shoving a package of chopsticks at me, he said, “Sushi. Maki.”
Just barely, I held my grimace inside. “Is that … like … raw fish?”
“They’re just California rolls. Snow crab, avocado, cucumber, rice, and salmon roe.”
I stared at the package as if it contained squirming grubs, my stomach twisting and surging. “Fish eggs? You want me to eat raw fish eggs?”
“Try them.” He smirked and picked up a nasty round roll with his chopsticks. “If you don’t like them, I’ll have Brent fetch you something else.”
Okay, he was actually being reasonable. I supposed I could try. I took the wrapper off the chopsticks and fiddled with them. They snapped apart with a tug of my fingers. When I tried to positio
n them in my fingers, one went flying halfway across the table. “Did this come with a fork, or at least some instructions on how to use these fool things?”
Ben pushed his chair out, retrieved my wooden projectile, came around behind me, and knelt beside my chair so close his heat made my skin tingle. “Let me show you.”
He positioned the chopsticks in my right hand, cupped his big one around mine, and helped me open and close my fingers. I stiffened under his touch, closed my eyes, and held my breath as sparkling electricity invaded my body. Spread. Grew hotter until it consumed me and left my inner thighs pulsing.
When he spoke again, his words came out in a soft whisper right next to my ear. “Open your eyes, Evangeline.” His warm, sweet exhale fanned across my cheek. “You need to watch what I’m doing or there’s little point in my lesson.”
Oh, right. Chopsticks. I opened my eyes, exhaled, and turned to look at him. Our gazes met for just a moment. A jolt of delicious warmth spread from the top of my head, down my abdomen, and tightened everything in the vicinity.
When my mental cobwebs cleared, I jumped up and stumbled away. “I think I’ve got it now, Mr. Hathaway.” A few swallows didn’t take the cotton from my mouth.
Head cocked, he studied my face. “Are you afraid of me?”
I stared at the floor, digging the toe of my sensible black loafer into the carpet. “No.” My mind spun answers to questions I didn’t want to answer. I shouldn’t feel this way about my freakin’ boss.
“Your hands are trembling. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
My muscles relaxed a little. I’d rather he thought he humiliated me than the real reason, that he lit my body on fire and stoked the flames with every word, every movement of his body, even his scent. I jammed my shaking hands into my pockets. “N-no, it’s the caffeine. I just need to eat.”
I caught his nod in my peripheral vision before he sat and picked up his chopsticks. “I’ll mix you some soy sauce and wasabi to dip your Maki into.”
Crossing Hathaway Page 5
