Little bit of both ;)
—Sin
That probably means he’ll be conducting an interview in a war zone andthenleaping off a tall cliff attached to a set of wings.
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Back soon
Try not to die, asshole.
Will
Sin doesn’t send a reply. His plane probably took off already. My mind wanders back to the beautiful temp sitting at her desk, working so industriously to cover up her nerves.
I’m listening for her again when Bristol knocks gently at the door. “Updates from finance.”
She’s two steps away from the desk when the folder falls out of her hands.
Printed pages go everywhere, fluttering to the floor. I’m out of my seat before I can pretend not to give a fuck. The last page lands as I meet her there on the carpet.
“I’m sorry.” Bristol’s voice is thin. Breathless. “I had these all in order, and now—”
“It’s fine.”
Fine,but I’m making a mess of them. Stacking pages together without reading a single word. I reach for the next one at the same time she does.
Our hands brush together.
Bristol’s green eyes snap to mine. Wide. Scared. The air in my lungs feels electric. Like she shocked me, damn it, just by a whisper of a touch on my knuckles. My heart’s gone out of rhythm.
My brain, too. Because now I can’t see anything but her perfect lips. I can’t see anything but the pink flush of her cheeks. I can’tdoanything but see her. I’m separated from uncivilized behavior by a heartbeat. By a line as thin as a dollar bill. The things I want to do to her…
Bristol reaches for the paper again.
Let go,a voice in my mind orders.Let go and get away from her.
I don’t let go. Her fingertips meet mine and she inhales, reaching more deliberately to tug the sheet out of my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Sorry for touching me. Her hands fly over the remaining pages. We both stand at the same time, her eyes down at the stack in my hands.
I hand them over, feeling for all the world like I’ve lost something.
Bristol brushes a lock of hair away from her cheek. “Give me just a minute with these, Mr. Leblanc, and I’ll—”
“What’s wrong?”
One question. A million broken rules.
No.Onebroken rule, but the biggest one of all. I’m not supposed to care about Bristol Anderson or any other temp who happens to be sitting in for my secretary. I’m not supposed to care about anything but making more money.
Caring this much about how shaken she is won’t pad my bottom line. It won’t keep me carefully removed from my worst, most violent instincts.
She blinks, startled, then shakes her head. One of her hands searches out the button on the jacket of her little skirt suit, and she runs her thumb over the edge. “It’s really nothing.”
“It’s clearly something.” It’s a bastard move, to insist like this.
Her eyes meet mine, wary and gorgeous. I can tell how nervous she is. I can tell how much she wants to tell me her secret, and how scared she is to do it.