“How about I go grab us some coffee first?”
“Nah. You should wait.”
Baffled, I linger at the door of her office. “For what?”
“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, because she sometimes likes acting like an oracle and asshole all wrapped in one. It’s a hobby of hers.
Sighing deeply, I go flip the door sign to OPEN and make sure everything’s ready. “Whatever.”
Two minutes later, the door chimes and a familiar set of broad shoulders fills the opening. Dark, floppy hair,
blue eyes, a panty-melting grin, cheeky dimple.
Two Styrofoam cups with lids on.
“Morning, ladies.” He thrusts the cups toward me. He’s a gorgeous sight, in his work suit, gray pants and blue shirt, gray tie, polished shoes… Woo. I’ve never seen him dressed up for work, and he sure cleans up good.
Very good. Way better than my imagination ever made him out to be.
This day is getting hotter by the minute.
“Good morning,” I say uncertainly, not sure what’s going on, and making sure to check my chin for drool. Joel Kingsley is back, and he’s… brought us coffee?
Donna appears and grabs one cup. “Thank you, sweetie.” She winks at me and wanders back into her office.
Leaving me all alone with him.
“This one’s for you,” he says, and I take the cup, my hand shaking. My name is scrawled on the side. “Lots of milk, sugar and cinnamon.”
“How do you know how I like my coffee?” I blurt out.
“She told me.” He nods in the direction of Donna’s office. “I asked.”
“But why?”
He steps closer, looking down at me, his blue eyes darkening. His chest is a wall of muscle, pecs straining through the fine fabric of his shirt. I want to grab his tie and pull him down for a kiss. I want to put my hands on his chest, feel its strength under my palms.
I take a sip from my coffee.
Scald my tongue.
“Oh shit!” I jerk back, slap a hand over my mouth and manage to slosh hot coffee from the tiny opening of the cup cover on my hand.
He grabs the cup before I drop it to the floor, handsome face scrunched up in concern. “You okay?”
“Burnth my thongue.” I wave my burnt hand up and down. “Thit.”
“Thit?”
I swallow, blink back tears and sigh as the pain slowly subsides. “Shit.”
He chuckles. I love the sound of his chuckle, low and deep, like thick, dark chocolate dripping on my skin. “Shall I bring you some water?”
“I’m fine.”
And he’s still there, still close enough to touch, to smell, and—oh God, he reaches for my face and cups my cheek in his big hand.
“I like you, Candy.”