by John Corwin
"Oh lord, I have it bad," I said. But the truth was, I couldn't wait to see Thomas. Couldn't wait to see the twinkle in his lovely eyes.
As I walked along, my mental radar pinged. I looked up from my phone and saw George Walker leaning against the wall.
He smiled and pushed himself upright. "Good morning."
I stopped and stared at him. "Did you catch Stephen?"
George shook his head. "We were unable to find him."
Disappointment dampened my cheery mood. Seeing this man again brought back to mind the multitude of questions I had for him. "How did you even know about the attack in the first place?"
"There were eye-witness accounts about an incident at the pub down the road." He motioned in the direction of Gronsky's. "The bartender told me you and your roommate had mentioned something about an attack."
"Have you questioned my roommate?" I knew he couldn't have because Isabel would have told me about it the instant I saw her.
He shook his head. "We really don't want word of this getting out. It's best if we limit who knows about the investigation."
"What would the CDC want with a rapist?" I felt my eyebrows raise. "Is he one of those loons who tries to spread contagious diseases?" The mere thought of what he could've given Isabel by biting her made my stomach contract painfully.
"I can assure you that he's not contagious. I can't go further into why we're interested in him, but it's still imperative we get him off the streets." George gave me a discerning look and abruptly changed the subject. "You knew I was here before you looked up."
I felt acutely uncomfortable at his question. "Just a feeling I was being watched."
He didn't seem convinced. "You said you felt coldness emanating from the attacker. Perhaps you can sense him again."
I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "It's just intuition, really. I'm not a lunatic claiming to be psychic."
"I know." George gave me a reassuring smile. "Regardless, we'll need you to confirm the suspect's identity when we pick him up. Would you be willing to do that?"
"Of course." I checked the time on my phone. "I really must be going, though." Before I went, I cast a narrow-eyed look at him. "Don't you have an office or a better way to contact me than by standing on the streets like a vagrant?"
George chuckled. "This is much easier than dragging you into an office, wouldn't you agree?"
Admittedly, I wouldn't relish the idea of going out of my way for an interview at their offices. "I suppose." I gave him a nod. "Good day." I strode briskly away, wondering if I might be going mental. Why did I see images when George was around? Had I really felt something coming from Stephen? It must stress related. After all, I'd been attacked, started a new job, and possibly initiated an illicit affair with an older man who happened to be an authority figure at work. Perhaps it was all too much for me to handle.
I arrived at work and had to ask the janitor to let me in since Sandra hadn't thought to leave me the key. Thankfully, the man took me at my word that I wasn't a hooligan and unlocked the door. I prepared the coffee, went about my morning tasks, and then sat at Sandra's desk for a lack of anywhere else to go.
The salespeople greeted me with smiles and waves as they piled in around eight. The programmers, clumped into little groups as they came off the lift, seemed absorbed in conversations as they walked past, probably talking about video games or something equally nerdy, I supposed. One of them, a young man in designer jeans and a hoodie, stopped and did a double take when he saw me. His T-shirt beneath the unzipped hoodie had a large nametag emblazoned on it with the words: "HELLO My Name Is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
I laughed. "Very clever."
He looked down at his shirt. "I know, right? Is Sandra gone?" His voice sounded a hopeful note.
"She's sick with the flu."
"Oh." He smiled. "Is she gonna die?"
I giggled. "I believe she'll survive."
He sighed. "Oh well. Are you just temping then?"
"I'm the new intern."
His eyes brightened. "Awesome. I'm Jack." Held out a hand.
I shook it, noting with satisfaction his firm shake despite his programmer pedigree. "Pleased to meet you, Jack."
He took off the hoodie, revealing surprisingly well-defined arms. "I'm the one who's pleased." He laughed. "Sandra is a bitch."
"No comment," I said with a wink.
"I like you already." He tucked his hoodie under an arm. "Oh well, guess I'd better get to work before Hinkle has a fit."
"Hinkle?"
"Yeah, he's like the friggin pit boss at a cage match. Makes sure we're pumping out code on time." One corner of his mouth crept up. "I'm sure you'll meet him at some point." He waved. "Bye now."
I found myself checking out his backside as he walked down the hall. Someone cleared their throat, and I jerked back to attention to find Thomas standing there, coffee in one hand, a newspaper tucked under his arm. A hot flush spread across my face. I'd completely forgotten about running down to the Java Hippo for his coffee and paper. "Oh, goodness. Uh, hello Thom—Mr. Jones."
He chuckled. "Miss Glass, were you just checking out that young man's ass?"
"Absolutely not."
A loud laugh burst from his throat. "You are something else." He leaned over the desk, his face coming very close to mine, his voice a deep throaty growl. "Emily."
I froze like a deer in the headlights, waiting, wanting his lips to touch mine. Instead, he stood up and checked the time on the wall clock. "Ugh. Meetings." A shrug. "Later." He winked and went down the executive hall.
A long sigh emerged from my throat, and I caught myself crossing my legs and squeezing my thighs together. It occurred to me I was...damp. It's called being wet, you ninny! Oh lord. A few words from him and I was ready to be his little tramp. Why hadn't he kissed me? I raised a cross eyebrow as some of my excitement melted into disappointment.
Fear raised its ugly little head, pinching my chest. I hoped I hadn't fallen into another man trap. I should have known this wouldn't work. Me, dating a bloody executive. What in the world had I been thinking?
"Emily, can you give me a hand with some sales charts?" Kevin asked, appearing at my elbow.
"Of course," I said, trying not to sound sullen.
"Something wrong?"
"No, no. Just haven't had my morning tea." I was lying. I'd had it on the way to work. I forced a smile. "I'm a bit tired is all."
He laughed. "Nothing to be sorry about. Here, I'll show you the charts."
I helped him for a while, gluing more charts to cardboard for another of their stupid presentations for stupid Thomas who hadn't said a word to me since the morning. Lunch rolled around, and I went to the cafeteria to heat up the food I'd brought. A part of me hoped Thomas would ask me to lunch, or bring me a sandwich and cupcakes he'd made himself the night before while unable to take his mind off me.
Every time someone walked into the little cafeteria, I glanced up, hoping to see him. I'd done it again, I knew for sure. Opened myself up. Left myself vulnerable. Men loved that moment. They loved reaching in and ripping out your heart.
Melodramatic much?
"Hey Emily," said a familiar not-Thomas voice.
I looked up to see Jack. "Hi."
"You mind if I join you?"
I shook my head. "Of course not. I'm almost done anyway."
"Don't be in such a hurry to rush off." He grinned, pulled out a sandwich and some chips. "You look kinda sad. Did something happen this morning?"
I was growing tired of pretending to be happy, but plastered another smile on my face. "I just didn't sleep well last night."
He took a bite of sandwich. Nodded. "Yeah, I hate it when that happens. Problem is, I'm a night owl, so I always stay up late."
I poked at the rest of my chicken breast with a fork, unable to find the appetite to finish it.
"I think it's already dead." Jack looked at the chicken, a concerned look growing on his
face. "Oh no. No, wait. I think I hear it talking. This chicken breast is only mostly dead! We have to get it to Miracle Max so it can find true love!"
I burst into an atrocious giggle-snort—a sniggle—and covered my mouth with embarrassment.
Jack laughed. "Now that was cute." He popped a chip into his mouth, his grin widening. "See, nothing like a laugh to wake you up."
"You're funny."
"I practice in the mirror every night."
I giggled again and cut the remaining chicken breast into smaller pieces. "Oh no, I guess it will never find true love."
"Oh, Westley!" Jack said, feigning horror. "My little Westley the chicken is no more!"
I laughed again. "At least in death he'll sustain me for the next few hours." I finished the unfortunate chicken and smiled at Jack. "Thank you. I do feel a bit more awake."
He crunched another chip. "No problem. All in a day's work for a superhero."
I left the cafeteria and reached the front desk. The lift dinged and Thomas stepped off it, a large sack in one hand. He grinned at me. I felt the warmth from his presence and smelled the faint burning odor. Was it intuition, or simply the way his presence made me feel?
Seeing him lifted my spirits. Perhaps now he would kiss—but no, he turned and went down the hall without another word. Hurt flooded into me. How could he be like this after last night? After that date? After that kiss? I nearly swooned just thinking about it. A knot formed in my throat and I took deep breaths, looking down at a blank sticky pad on my desk.
"Never ever let your guard down, you ninny," I said under my breath. "You idiot. You fool. How could you trust him?"
"Miss Glass?"
I jerked up and saw Thomas standing a few feet away, a concerned look on his face. "Y-yes?" I said, my voice sounding weak.
"Do you have a moment?"
I nodded dumbly, standing on weak legs.
"Are you sure you're okay? I hope you didn't catch the flu."
What I'd caught was much, much worse. "I just didn't get much sleep last night." It was an easy lie.
He smiled. "Me neither."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He shivered. "Come on, I have something to show you."
I followed, my heart thumping hard, and daring to hope. He led me down the hall a little past the cafeteria and took a right to a corridor linking to the sales department. The men and women's bathroom doors were on the left. On the right was the door to a supply closet and another door, which Sandra hadn't introduced me to during my orientation. Thomas, his grin even wider, opened the door to a dark room.
No way in bloody hell!
The bastard wanted a quickie in the copier room. The magic we'd shared last night, and this was what he thought of me? I bared my teeth as a torrent of venomous words rose in my throat. I would tell this pervert in no uncertain terms just what I thought of this, throw in a knee to the groin, and quit just to spite him!
He turned on the light in the room and I froze, mouth hanging open in utter surprise.
Chapter 7
Inside the small room sat a desk—more like a table really—with a computer chair next to it. Atop the desk were dozens of plushy pens in their holders, all arranged in rows from one side of the desk to the other. Everything from little piggies to puppies, kitties to cows, hearts, fairies, and a unicorn. It was absolutely adorable.
I felt tears rising in my eyes and squeezed them shut.
"You don't like it?" he said, his voice sounding hurt.
"I love it," I said, trying not to choke up. "It's the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me."
"Ever?" He shook his head. Put a finger under my chin and lifted my face. "Look, I know it's not a corner office, and I can't have you bossing people around just yet, but—" he shrugged. "It's a start."
I laughed and warmth flooded me for this wonderful man. "You are simply too much, Thomas." I stepped inside and touched the unicorn pen. "Oh, it's so fluffy!"
He laughed. Stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His hand touched my cheek. Pushed the hair behind my ear. Before I could take another breath, his lips touched mine and time seemed to bend to our will. Little shocks ran from his lips to mine, and the light in the room seemed to flicker. A tingling sensation ran from my lips to between my legs. I pressed my thighs together at the sweet sensation blossoming there. His hand ran down my back, stopping just above the curve of my bottom.
My body trembled at his touch.
A deep moan rose in his throat. Or was it mine? I couldn't tell. Didn't care. I just wanted more. Something popped, and the room went dark.
He pulled back. "Oops."
"I guess we blew out the light," I said with a little laugh.
"I've been wanting to kiss you all morning," he said, his hand still caressing my cheek, his lips brushing mine in the pitch black. Then he sagged a little.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just, you know—gotta get back to work." He opened the door a sliver and looked outside. Stepped into the hallway and walked away.
I waited a moment before stepping into the corridor. When I looked back into the room, I saw broken glass on the desk. My desk. The fluorescent bulb had apparently burst. I couldn't blame it. My heart was about to burst with happiness. It hadn't been a fluke. Thomas wanted me. He'd thought of nothing but kissing me all morning, and the world seemed right again. The shards of pain were completely gone. I had to remind myself this was work, and it wouldn't be appropriate to break into a slow-dance rendition of "Baby Got Back" in the middle of the hallway. I probably looked like quite the pervert, standing there, squirming and pressing my thighs together to combat the lingering heat the kiss had generated.
With that in mind, I called the janitor and asked him to come up and fix the lights in my office so I could view my lovely plush pen collection properly.
The rest of the workday went by in a blissful haze of happiness. I couldn't stop thinking about Thomas. About that last kiss. I sighed just thinking about it.
"Still feeling out of it?" Jack said, standing to the side of Sandra's desk.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Oh lord. You startled me."
"I have that effect on people." He set a cup on the desk. "I was just down the street for some real coffee, not that sludge in the cafeteria."
"I happen to make that sludge," I said, smiling.
"I'm sure it's great fresh." He smirked. "Anyway, figured you might like some chai, so I grabbed you some. Maybe it'll brighten your day."
"Oh," I said, feeling a bit surprised. "Thank you. What kind is it?"
"I just went with the standard green chai." He shrugged. "It's got caffeine."
My day was already ending up splendidly, so I didn't have to fake the smile. "I very much appreciate it." I took a sip. It was hot and a touch sweet. "It's perfect. Thank you, Jack."
He grinned. "Yeah, no problem. I don't usually buy cute girls tea, but you really needed an upper today."
He thinks I'm cute? I felt a blush coming on, and didn't know what to say. "I really did," I said, fumbling for something for words.
"Welp. Back to the grind." He waved and headed toward the back.
Five o'clock rolled around. I was caffeinated and high on the kiss from earlier, not to mention Jack's compliments. I felt so stupid for jumping to conclusions about Thomas. About pitching a mental hissy fit at his seeming lack of attention. Why had I jumped off the deep end so quickly? What was my malfunction? I put those questions on a mental list of things to ask Isabel when I got home. She probably didn't know any better than I did, but just talking about it would help. Talk, chocolate, and wine.
Perfect.
"You look very smug about something," Thomas said from the executive hallway.
I turned to see him leaning casually against the wall. "Not smug. Just happy to have a plushy unicorn." I waggled the pen in my fingers.
He chuckled. "Free for dinner?"
I nodded. A little voice inside my head castigated me for being
so quick to agree. Play hard to get, you ninny! Men have to work for it or they'll get bored.
"Good." A wolfish grin spread across his face, one which I wouldn't have thought possible on that face of his.
It sent a tingle into my lower stomach. Heaven help me.
We stepped outside as a breeze kicked up, chilling me to the bone. Thomas only wore a light coat.
"Aren't you freezing?" I asked.
"I'm hot natured," he said, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. "You want to take a cab?"
"N-n-no," I said as my teeth chattered. "W-w-walking is f-f-fine."
He burst into laughter and hailed a cab. "Corner of Tenth," he told the driver.
I caught myself leaning against him, practically snuggling, and pulled myself upright. No sense in being a little slut even though part of my body—okay all of my body longed for another of his magical kisses, and wondered how his lips would feel elsewhere. On my neck. My ears. My breasts.
"You're looking a bit flushed," Thomas said, taking my hand and kissing it.
A sweet little shock danced across my skin and I suddenly felt rather hot, not to mention embarrassed about how far my mind had wandered. "Oh, I'm...glad to be in a warm car." My mouth hardly seemed to work with the jumble of emotions working their way through my mind.
We went to a Korean barbeque restaurant with a grill in the middle of the table.
"I'm going to be an absolute mess," I said, wrapping beef along with other odds and ends inside a large piece of lettuce.
Thomas took a big bite out of his first wrap, and juices ran down his hands. "So be a big mess," he said while chewing. "I'll make sure you get nice and cleaned up."
My eyes flared with pleasure at that thought. "Oh, really?" I nibbled at the wrap like a rabbit, trying to keep the mess at bay, and failed.
He wiped his hands and grinned. "Tell me. Why do you try so hard to cover up your accent?"
"My accent?"
"Your British accent."
"Why, Thomas, whatever do you mean?" I said, keeping my accent flat as possible.
He rolled his eyes. "No American is going to say it like that. They'd say, 'What the hell are you talking about?'"
