Without warning, Martin straightened, about-faced, shielded his eyes from the sun, and looked directly at her window. With a small, secret smile creasing his face, he gave his head a disapproving shake.Naughty, naughty, naughty.
She offered him a taunting, wiggling wave of her fingers in return.
With exaggerated gestures, he wrapped his arms around his torso and shivered. Shuddered, actually, his expression so pitiful she actually laughed out loud in the copy room. In response, she plucked at the sleeves of her fitted sateen jacket and slid her arms free, removing it in a slow, deliberate glide to show just how warm she was. Warm enough to lounge in just a thin, silky blouse.
Below her, he went absolutely still on the frozen grass.
Which was weird, because why would removing her jacket—
Hold on. Had she just stripped for him? In the copy room?
It was just a jacket, but still. What about stripping saidfriendly distance?
Then, to her horror, their principal wandered into view. Tess said something to Martin, but he didn’t appear to hear. Instead, he was still staring up at the copy room window. Tess swiveled to follow his stare.
Somehow, before Rose gathered enough wits to leap away from the damned window, he’d maneuvered himself and Tess so he stood between her and the sight of a teacher who’d ignored a mandatory fire drill.
Rose snapped the blinds shut, exhaling with a whoosh.
Get your head straight, Owens.
She would. She would. Just as soon as she figured out how.
* * *
At the staff meeting,she waved at Martin when he entered the cafeteria, and he settled in the seat next to hers. While she skimmed the handout on the table, he dug through his briefcase for something.
At the bottom of the paper, she noticed a thumbnail picture of the presenter. Ed Barnes.
Shit. Should’ve gulped down more coffee before coming.
“It’s the same consultant we saw before the start of the school year,” she whispered. “The superintendent’s latest overpaid pet. We’re in for a loooooong afternoon.”
From the depths of his briefcase, Martin produced a metallic thermal bottle. The generous lid popped right off, and he flipped it over. A cup.
Clearly, he’d planned better for this meeting than she had.
He hefted the bottle and carefully poured his steaming coffee into the cup, and she almost wept in envy.
Then he nudged the cup directly in front of her.
Oh, she wanted it. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.
“It’s yours. You should have it.” With sorrow in her soul, she slid it back in front of him. “If I fall asleep, please elbow me. And if I die of boredom, please scatter my ashes directly in front of the presenter, so he accidentally breathes me into his sinuses and gets an infection.”
He grinned and moved the cup beneath her nose. She tried not to moan in need.
“I had plenty of coffee after the fire drill. Because some of us needed to warm up more than others.” His lips quirked. “This is dark roast, by the way. Black and bitter.”
“Like my heart.” She snorted, still amused at the running joke. “Anyway, I’m only warm due to my superior metabolism. I went outside, of course, just like you.”
He inclined his head. “Of course.”
It was his coffee, and she really shouldn’t rely on him for anything. But it smelled like the sort of coffee a god might offer when he swooped down from Mt. Olympus and impregnated some mortals. Caffeinated ambrosia. Seduction in liquid form.
Martin leaned close and whispered, “Rose, stop eye-fucking the coffee and just drink it.”
His breath, a waft of warm air. His mouth, so close to her ear…
