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I curled my toes and tugged my skirt down farther. “Did you need me to do something?”
“No. I’ll be ready to leave as well.”
“Good. I’ll just finish up then.”
“Right.” He turned on his heel, and I heard the soft hiss of his door close.
Yeah, this ridiculous effect he had on me had to end. I peeled off my cardigan and balled it up, pitching it into the chair behind me. I grabbed my water and finished it off. And now I had to pee.
I pushed my hair out of my face and stood. Cripes. Why was it so hot in here?
I stepped into my boots, but left them unzipped, and clunked my way to the bathroom. The executive floor bathroom was unisex, but since there was only Jack, his still-honeymooning assistant, me, and Mr. Carson, I was the odd woman out for the most part. I backed into the swinging door as I twisted my insane hair up and tucked it into a messy bun with one of the half dozen rubber bands on my wrist.
Mr. Carson was leaning over the sink, water dripping from his bearded chin and nose. Our eyes met in the mirror.
“Sorry.” I dropped my arms and winced. My cute, smudgy eyes from this morning now looked more like a hooker on a bender, and my hair was still wild, even in the bun. I laughed a little. “Too much water.”
He ripped off a towel from the dispenser and blotted his face. His cuffs were rolled back a little. Just a tease of skin. The sepia tones of the ink were unusual enough. Most people went with black ink, but his was definitely not.
He crumpled the towel and shook out his sleeves. Again, he hid the design.
I don’t know why it drove me crazy to know it was under there, but it did. “Is that a sleeve?”
And seventeen hours at the office meant I lost all control of my manners.
He paused in the buttoning. “Yes.” He smiled thinly and covered the tattoo completely. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Okay, so it really wasn’t cool to say “Hey, boss—can you roll your sleeves back?”, but dammit. Just…yes? No other details? Not even a little hint? Not even half a story?
He inclined his head and backed into the door, his golden gaze holding mine for a moment longer before he disappeared.
I snapped out a towel and wet the corner before dabbing at my raccoon eyes. Defeated when it just made things worse, I threw it out and took care of business. I washed up and left the bathroom.
My level of intrigue with his ink was unhealthy. Seriously, I knew this and could barely stand myself.
I went back to my little carpet picnic and cleaned up, then dragged myself back to my desk to finalize the spreadsheet.
My brain was shot at this point. No use trying to work any more today. I slung
my sweater over the strap of my purse. I’d need it to go outside. I knew my core temperature was a mess because I was tired and cranky.
Okay, and possibly in heat.
That was less than helpful in my current situation, but at least it explained my ridiculous—bordering on mad—reaction to Blake Carson. He was intense, smart, and stupidly attractive. It was nice to know that all my female parts were in working order. Damn inconvenient timing though.
I zipped up my boots and pulled out my keys to lock my drawer. I frowned at the quiet beep coming from my computer. I’d shut it down.
Blake’s door opened. He had his suit jacket back on, and his laptop case slung over one shoulder.
“I think I did something to my computer.”
He frowned and came forward. His brow smoothed when he heard the chime. “That’s just the network warning.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What’d I do now?”
His full mouth curved into a rare smile, and a dimple dented his left cheek. “Nothing.”
My belly flipped. The only time I’d seen him smile since my interview was when Jack was around. Not good for my current state. “Then why is it beeping at me?”
