“Hold on!” I called.
“I think you’ve been single for too long,” Sebastian said thoughtfully.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I groaned. I threw paperwork off my desk as I searched. Jun had probably called a hundred times, wondering where I was, and I’d completely lost track of time—and apparently my phone too!
“There’s a guy here,” Adam insisted.
“Tell him to wait!” I snapped.
“I’m going to let you go,” Sebastian said, and then I heard the Skype call end.
I pushed my chair back and got down under my desk. “I don’t have time for this!”
“Hi, Aubrey.”
I jumped up and hit my head on the underside. “Ouch!Fuck!” I dropped down, cradling my head and hissing. I turned to see legs standing at my desk and a rolling suitcase beside them. I crawled out and looked up.
Jun Tanaka. In the flesh.
My heart skipped a beat. It had been two years since we’d seen each other in person, and I’d been dating his then-partner at the time. It’d been a messy end between me and Matt, and that had been the reason I’d hightailed it to America’s wang. I supposed I had Sebastian to thank for even talking to Jun again. If he hadn’t needed to get in contact with the FBI around Valentine’s for some convoluted mess he was in, Jun wouldn’t be standing here now.
I’d have never known Jun had been in love with me for years.
Jun smiled down at me, his entire face alight, and his eyes crinkled in the corners.
Yeah. I definitely had to thank Sebastian for his accidental matchmaking.
“Jun!” I scrambled to my feet.
He held his arms out and leaned down into a hug. The last time I saw Jun, he’d just been a handsome and seemingly straight G-man. Now, after about a month and a half of talking nearly every day, flirting over the phone and on Skype, he was standingright here. Still handsome—maybe even more so than two years prior—and I’d come to learn, a verynotstraight G-man.
I’d stressed so much about our first touches. It felt sort of like that excitement and nervousness of meeting an online someone you’d been crushing on, except for the added weirdness that I had a personal history in place with him already. But yeah—first hug. Keep it friendly? Make it intimate? Would touching himthat wayfeel right, or would I get a warning bell in my head that he wasn’t meant to be anything more than a friend? What if it felt wrong and he wasted all of his paid vacation visiting me for nothing?
Fuck it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed tight. Jun wasa lottaller, like six feet kind of taller. I couldn’t press close against him this way, so I slid my arms down, pushed them through his own, and wrapped myself around his chest. Jun’s arms settled on my shoulders and he petted my head.
I smiled.
Oh yeah.
This was it.
The perfection my strange life was waiting for.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling back and looking up.
Jun loosened his hold, but his hands remained on my shoulders. “It’s all right.”
“Hell no, it’s not. I meant to leave before ten to pick you up, and I got so flustered and sidetracked, now it’s noon and—”
“It’s okay, Aubrey,” he insisted.
Jun’s voice was deep.Really deep. And when he spoke Japanese? I swear to God, it dropped another octave, if that’s even possible. It was a shame he was relatively quiet, because I could literally listen to him talk forever and be into it. A week ago I went online to see if deep voices was some sort of fetish or if I was losing it. Turns out there were studies proving men with deep voices were more often than not the first choice as a potential mate.
So hey, science couldn’t cure my narcolepsy, but they did prove that if it were biologically possible, I’d want to make several babies with Jun.
I sighed and looked him over. All my memories of Jun were of him in his “I’m a special agent” suit, so it was surprising to see him in anything but. Not that I expected him to be wearing a tie on vacation, but the tight black pants and fashionable shirt with a low neckline made Jun look like someone out of a magazine. He had some scruff on his usually smooth-shaven face and wore black-framed glasses instead of the usual contacts. Jun’s hair was professionally disheveled—the I-rolled-out-of-bed-like-this-and-kept-it look. It was sexy.
