He opened one eye. “Don’t patronize me.”
Crickitt smiled. He could be funny with a straight face. She really liked that about him.
Focus!
She cleared her dry throat and clutched the notebook against her chest. “Actually, I may have something,” she said, rerouting her attention to the task at hand. She lowered the notebook and examined her drawings. For the last half an hour she’d been working on a new concept while Shane pecked away on his keyboard. And, if her worn-out synapses weren’t misfiring, she thought her idea had potential.
Shane sat up and scrubbed his face with both hands. He moved closer, his shoulder and hip brushing against hers. “All right, let’s see it.”
She showed him.
He muttered her name, the deep timbre of his voice gliding along her ribs like a mallet on a xylophone. “This is really good.”
“Really?” she asked, lifting her chin.
He looked up at the same time, bringing their noses inches apart.
She froze like a butterfly on a board, pinned into place by his golden gaze. Shane’s eyes dropped to her mouth for the briefest second before he emitted a low grunt of approval, and she could swear he leaned in just the slightest bit closer. And then it was as if every cell in her body moved in conjunction with his. Like a magnet being pulled to metal, she breached the distance between them and touched her lips to his. His mouth was firm, warm, and tasted every bit as good as it looked. The low moan rumbling between them came from her this time. Her eyes flew open.
What had she done—or, more accurately, since her lips were still fused with his—what was she doing? She pulled back, their lips making a smooching sound as she did.
Crickitt stood, the notebook on her lap clattering to the floor. “Oh, my gosh.” A smudge of lip gloss decorated his bottom lip. “Oh, my gosh,” she repeated.
She bolted from the room, and somewhere beyond the sloshing heartbeat in her eardrums, registered Shane calling her name.
* * *
Shane stood in the middle of his office, hands on his hips, and stared down at the sketchbook at his feet.
“Oh, my gosh,” he repeated, chuckling. He wiped his lips, noticing faint sparkles from her lip gloss on his fingertips. Man. He wished he would have been ready, he’d have loved to taste those lips a while longer. His entire body hummed like a transformer about to blow, and from what? A chaste, closed-mouth kiss.
A zillion shouts of encouragement came from the direction of his dormant hormones. It’d been a long time since he’d been kissed, even longer since a woman initiated it. He stepped to the doorway and poked his head out. A slice of light shone under the bathroom door and bisected the hallway.
Obviously, she regretted doing it. And wasn’t that a shame? Hadn’t she said earlier that rules were made to be broken? He was beginning to agree.
He’d been too aware of propriety and his position as her employer to lean in any closer. Remembering the feel of those plush lips set of a string of thoughts like firecrackers…and a warning siren he couldn’t ignore. As amazing as it was to feel her warm and willing against him, he was pretty sure it shouldn’t happen again.
“Damn.”
Given the fact she was hiding in his bathroom, she must feel the same way. With no idea what he’d say when he got there, he stalked toward the door. As it turned out, a conversation started without him.
“Maybe it’s hormones,” he heard her say, which almost made him laugh out of solidarity. “Or maybe I’m lonely.” Her voice grew farther away, then closer, like she was pacing the floor.
“Or desperate,” she continued.
Well, that wasn’t very flattering.
“It was bound to happen,” she said. “Could have been anyone. Given the chance, I may have kissed Townsend.”
Shane cringed. “I certainly hope not,” he said through the door.
Silence. Then, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
He smiled at the floor and leaned a palm on the door frame. Could she be more adorable? “Open the door, Crickitt. You can’t hide in there until morning.”
“Actually, I could,” her muffled voice pronounced. “It’s plenty big, and I can make a bed out of these fluffy towels.”
“Crickitt,” he scolded. She really was regretting it, wasn’t she? Well, he wouldn’t let her. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. He’d been right there, too, letting it happen. “What if I promise not to bring it up?”
More silence was followed by the snick of the lock disengaging. Crickitt peeked out of a narrow gap in the door, her wide, doelike eyes brimming with innocence. “Really?”