Page 21 of Miss Typed

She was fluttering around in her little kitchen, and I thought I’d help by moving the pan I’d used to the back of the stove so it didn’t accidentally spill hot grease while she was standing on a small stool above it. But as she gripped the container she’d fetched, her foot missed a step on the way down. My arms automatically went around her as she fell.

Breath hissed out between my clenched teeth. My hands came into contact with her waist, and I slid her slowly down the length of my body until her feet hit the floor. Her head only came up to my shoulders, but her face was upturned, her eyes wide, as if she’d felt it, too. An unmistakable electric charge had shot through my entire body from that first touch.

Now my hands rested on her hips, past the point of being appropriate. Yet neither of us were pulling away. My heart hammered in my chest while I fought the urge to crush my lips to hers.

There weren’t any rules against fraternizing in the office, but I couldn’t do it. She was twenty-two and looking for things I could never give her. I wasn’t relationship material. Hell, since the roadside bomb, I was barely suitable-functioning-human material. Every day, I felt like I was simply going through the motions with no goal in mind.

Bringing myself back to the moment, I cleared my voice and dropped my arms. I witnessed a flush creep up her cheeks. “How about you bring the cookies to the office tomorrow instead?”

“Sure. Okay.”

I needed to get out now.

She followed me down the hall to see me out while I tried not to let insecurity hit me as I walked. It wasn’t easy. I was far from coming to terms with the loss of the lower part of my left leg, but at least she hadn’t asked me questions about it. For that I was grateful.

Although I was disappointed when she’d turned down the plane ticket, I now understood her reasons. What twenty-two-year-old should have to bear the burden of sending money home? Especially if that meant she couldn’t spend Christmas there with her family? It bothered me more than it had a right to.

“Thank you for lunch. And merry Christmas, Aiden.”

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”

As soon as the door closed behind me, I blew out a breath of relief. Fuck. I needed to get a handle on my attraction to her. And quick since I’d see her tomorrow in the office.

I strode toward my vehicle but stopped by her Jeep parked in the lot. I knew it was hers because I’d seen her pull into the office parking garage one day when I’d been returning from a morning meeting. I hesitated, struck with the sudden urge to put a tracker on her car. Her sad statement that, outside of her roommate, no one knew where she was didn’t sit well. She was here in a foreign country without anyone looking out for her.

But ultimately, I decided against tracking her vehicle. It wasn’t my business. She was a grown woman, and I was a man who didn’t need the burden of worrying about someone else.

* * *

Although I could opt to do my daily workouts in the basement of my apartment building, I chose a private gym where I wouldn’t run into anyone from the office. The downside of corporate housing was living in the same building as the company’s other executives. It wasn’t as if I’d ever wear anything but long pants when I worked out, but I didn’t want to take a chance of anyone I worked with finding out about my prosthesis.

As I stepped out of my post-workout shower in the office, I thought about the last time I’d done so, with Chloe wide-eyed and gaping at me.

Her admission of staring at my chest awoke something I hadn’t felt in over a year. It gave me back some of the confidence so cruelly stripped from me. Damn, did I miss sex. Missed the sounds a woman made when I pleasured her. My equipment was all still in working order, but I didn’t know if I’d ever feel comfortable being naked with a woman again, with my scars on display and my missing leg.

After I’d changed into my suit, I realized work was not happening. Instead, I found myself distracted and waiting for the knock on my door to announce Chloe’s arrival. What was happening to me?

“Come in,” I barked when the knock finally came.

Her hesitancy wasn’t lost on me when she stepped in. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I softened my voice and my expression, not wanting to make her feel unwelcome.

She smiled, making it impossible to breathe for a moment. Christ. Was her effect on me getting stronger? To make matters worse, she was in jeans. There’d been some sort of email that casual clothing was allowed through New Year’s, but I’d forgotten. Frankly, I missed the days when I could simply put on a uniform and not worry about what to wear.

“What’s on the agenda today?” she asked.

There wasn’t a lot. Not for the first time, I wished I could share more about my work. But since my specialty involved the employees of this company and their communication on firm computers, I couldn’t. I was like Internal Affairs at a police department. If you weren’t doing anything wrong, then there was no need to worry. But if you were, my job was to find you. However, I also managed some billable work, which I was hoping she could help with new cases coming in.

I was about to suggest we set up a few meetings for next week when my cell phone buzzed on its charging stand on the side of my desk. Glancing at the number, I winced and sent it to voicemail. It immediately started buzzing again.

“If you want to take your call, I can go,” Chloe posed.

“No. It’s okay. I’m not answering.”

Fucking Miranda wouldn’t give up trying to talk to me. During my conversation with my mom, she’d tried to convince me to call my ex, but one awkward phone call was enough. I didn’t wish to hear about the party I’d missed. The Nelsons getting divorced, Betsy Miller’s botched facelift. It was all the same country club gossip I didn’t miss in the slightest. Shallow things for shallow people.

Finally tired of the phone buzzing, I turned it off and sighed with relief. It was short-lived, though. My office phone started ringing next.