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I’m halfway to the elevator, deep in thought, when someone comes flying out of the bathrooms to my left and runs smack bang into me.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” Charlize’s hands grip my biceps, probably to stop me from falling. The opposite happens, though. By gripping me, she actually forces more weight against me, sending me to my ass. Unfortunately for her, she comes with me.
I lie sprawled out on the ground floor of my building with her on top of me and make no effort to move. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I ask, “Are you okay?”
Her eyes go wide, and she attempts to scramble off me. I’m not ready to let her go yet, so I hold her in place. This seems to confuse her, and bewilderment flashes across her face. “I’m fine. Are you? I really didn’t mean to run into you. I mean—”
Although I love the way she rambles from one sentence to the next, often connecting odd thoughts, I want to put her mind at ease. Smiling, I say, “I’m good. But we really need to stop meeting inside and outside bathrooms.”
She takes a deep breath before exhaling it. When she tries to move off me again, I let her go, and we both stand. She fumbles with her black bag for a few moments before blurting out, “God, I am so nervous about today!” Her hand flies to her mouth as her eyes widen again. “Shit, I just totally said that out loud, didn’t I? No wonder people don’t give me jobs.”
I chuckle and lift my chin towards the elevators. “You drink coffee?”
She appears to relax a little and follows me to the lifts. “Owen, I live for coffee.”
“Good. I make the best coffee.”
“Ah no, dude, I make the best coffee.”
>
“I see we’re going to have to fight this one out. Just so you know, I’ve never had coffee better than mine.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “You really do make your own coffee? I’d have thought your assistant kept you fuelled.”
I shake my head. “No, I have far more important things for Tahlia to do.” Like keeping my ex wife out of my office.
“Hmm, you really are an odd beast, aren’t you?”
The elevator reaches our floor, and I lead her to the kitchen. “An odd beast? Why?”
“Well, you stayed and tried to help me the other night. Then you gave me your jacket, which I meant to bring today but totally forgot. And yesterday, you were, I don’t know, you just don’t do things I expect you to do. Don’t get me wrong, I like that about you.”
I smile at her as I grab mugs out of the cupboard. “My ex would agree with you there, except she wishes I would do the things she expects from me.”
“Ah, one of those ex’s, huh?”
“Yes, but let’s not discuss difficult things so early in the morning. I’m going to make our first coffee. You get to make the second. Then we compare.”
She watches in silence as I make the coffee. I’m finding it difficult to concentrate with her standing so close. Not to mention being distracted by what she’s wearing. The burgundy skirt she has on hits her midthigh, revealing long legs encased in dark tights. It’s not only those legs of hers that draw my attention, it’s the whole outfit of lace-up burgundy ankle boots, fitted black top, and black biker jacket. She did have a scarf wrapped around her neck, but she’s removed that. The outfit is so unlike any I’ve seen my team wear. Jill will detest it, but I have no issues. Hell, the only thing I’d change would be the tights. I’d get rid of them so I could actually see her legs.
“Here,” she says, passing me the milk from the fridge.
Our hands brush as I take it from her, sparking desire through me. Our eyes meet, and I know she’s felt the same thing. But then, this isn’t something new. I’m certain we’ve both felt it from the first night we met. I believe it’s the reason why she tried to avoid taking this job. And fuck, now I’m wondering again why I hired her.
My gaze drops to her lips and then her breasts.
Fuck, Owen, get a fucking grip. She’s a staff member now. You can’t ogle her at work. Hell, you can’t ogle her full stop.
I shift my attention back to the coffee and take a step away from her, intent on putting some distance between us and these feelings. I finish making our drinks before lifting my gaze again. “You ready to be blown away?”
She rolls her eyes as she takes the mug I offer her. “Calm down. The only one of us who is going to be blown away is you when you drink my coffee.”
I arch my brows. “I see you have the trait that all good analysts share.”
“And what would that be?”
“You’re overly confident.”
