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Lucky for her, no one but her editor and boss at the NOLA Vibe knew who the real Miz Poppy was, which meant misguided penis guy got to keep his fantasy about Miz Poppy’s shoes. What he wouldnotget was a reply. She lifted her hand to delete the email, but before she could, a knock sounded at her door.
Her body tensed, and she automatically went into if-I-stay-still, maybe-they-won’t-see-me mode. No one ever knocked on her door. There was aDo Not Disturbdoor hanger that she’d bought in the French Quarter hanging off the knob. It had a picture of a voodoo doll full of pins. The message was pretty damn clear. But before she could go into full flight-or-fight mode, she remembered Andi was bringing coffee. She needed to turn around. Be a functioning human for a few more minutes.
The glass door made a soft whooshing sound as it opened. “Um, hello?”
Not Andi.The voice was male and one she didn’t recognize. She really needed to turn around now, but she could feel the electricity moving through her, her nerve endings jumping. Her fingers twitched against the arms of her desk chair, tapping the pattern.One two three four.
“You ordered a coffee?” the guy said, his tone unsure.
Hollyn wet her lips—get your shit together, babe—and forced herself to spin her chair to face the door. A guy she’d never seen before was standing inside her doorway, holding a cup of coffee and watching her. Her breath caught. One, because he was a stranger andin her office expecting her to speak words. Two, because,holy shit.Hot.
He looked like he could be modeling for a WorkAround ad.Tall and lanky with an untucked, short-sleeved button-down and skinny jeans that said he was trying but not too hard. Square tortoiseshell glasses framing hazel eyes. And dark, shaggy hair that was just a little too long on top to be considered neat.
He gave her a chagrined half smile, and his gaze traveled over her, making her insides ripple with awareness. “Whew. So sheisalive,” he said. “That’s a relief.”
“Excuse me?” Her throat had narrowed to the circumference of a pencil, and the words came out broken around the edges.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and his smile went full span. “Well, it would suck if on my first day at a new place, I was the one to find the body.”
She was supposed to smile back or laugh or something, but as usual, her body didn’t cooperate. She didn’t do well one-on-one with any stranger, but this guy was launching her system straight to Armageddon level. Attraction wasthe worst. It was like detonating a bomb inside her, setting off all the most embarrassing aspects of her anxiety and Tourette’s. Most people got a little nervous when they were attracted to someone, but for her, it was amplified a hundred times over. She was doing everything she could to act chill, white-knuckling her neurons, but she knew it couldn’t last. She was bound to tic or say something awkward. Her tension increased—a rubber band being pulled, pulled, pulled. “Did you need something?”
Inwardly, she winced at how rude it sounded.
He flinched and his smile dropped a few watts. She felt a pang at the loss of it. “Uh, yeah, sorry. This woman I met downstairs, Andi, asked if I could bring you this.” He lifted the coffee like he was offering a sacrifice to the gods. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your—” His gaze flicked over her shoulder to her screen, and his eyes widened behind his glasses. “Work? Private moment with your boyfriend? Shoe-fetish research?”
She closed her eyes, mortified, not even bothering to look behind her. “It’s…spam.”
“Hey, no judgment. You do you, friend,” he said genially. “I was just looking for Lucinda, and Andi said you’d know where to point me.”
Hollyn’s face was so hot she felt sunburned. She forced herself to meet his gaze, and fought to keep her tics at bay,hatingthe fear,hatingthis thing that took her over when she was around other people. Her fingers tapped on the arm of her chair, and she tried to breathe in the way Mary Leigh had taught her—slowly, deeply. She didn’t need to be afraid of Cute Guy. Cute Guy was just here to bring her coffee and get directions and look amazing in a pair of jeans. It wasn’t the end of days. No need to panic or stock up on canned goods.
Her body didn’t get the memo, though, and she could barely get the words out. “Her office is at the other end of the hall. Last door before the big conference room. Knock first.”
But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at her computer screen, amusement dancing in his gold-green eyes. “If there’s such a thing as athlete’s foot, do you think one can…catch that in other places? I mean, maybe he should use a condom.”
She glanced at the computer. “Or a sock.”
The words had jumped out without her planning it, and his attention flicked to her, that infectious grin returning. “A sock.” He laughed. “Obviously. The only proper protection from a shoe.” He shook his head. “Why don’t I ever get spam that interesting? I just get offers from Russian models wanting to be my wife. They promise to”—he made air quotes with his free hand—“‘make me so happy in a special way.’ I’m assuming this means they make a kick-ass borscht.”
Hollyn pursed her lips at his faux Russian accent and looked down, wanting to laugh but knowing that if she did, it would come out like a parrot squawk with her muscles so tense. “Sounds like a good deal.”
“Right? I mean, the beet really is an under-appreciated root vegetable. I’m weighing all the offers carefully,” he said with mock seriousness and set the coffee on the corner of her desk, bringing the scent of his shower-fresh soap into her space. He put out his hand. “I’m Jasper, by the way.”
She stuck out her hand, knowing there was no way to avoid the handshake, and his warm, confident grip wrapped around hers, sending a zinging awareness straight up her arm and spreading through her chest. His gaze met hers and held, like he was trying to see inside her head, to read her. The connection was too intense, the eye contact impossible for her to hold. Her fingers wanted to count. She quickly released the handshake. “Thanks, for uh, bringing the coffee.”
“No problem.” He stepped back, giving her an expectant look, and then asked with a teasing tone, “And you are?”
She looked down at her hands, which were clenched tightly, and she realized that she’d let this go too far. If Jasper was new here and got the impression she was someone he could chat and joke around with, she’d have to go through this rush of anxiety every damn day at work. She needed to get better with people, but she couldn’t start with someone like Jasper. That would be like deciding to learn guitar and going straight to a Jimi Hendrix song. She needed to learn her chords first. Best to cut the hot new guy off at the pass.
“Busy,” she said flatly.
“You—” He paused, as if checking he’d heard her correctly. “Oh, right.”
She looked up, finding him frowning, and the room seemed to dim around her.
He squinted like he couldn’t quite tell if she was being serious, but then he pushed his shoulders back, straightening. “Yeah, well, sorry to bother you. Good luck with your…shoe-fetish guy.”
She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.
