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“I hope you got some rest yesterday.” He slides forward in the chair, getting a good view of the monitor, and I’m momentarily distracted by his hands on the table.
He has beautiful hands.
Clean, long fingers. A light dusting of hair on the backs.
I’m sure they smell nice too.
“Ms. Marlin?” His hands open and close, as he most likely caught me gawking.
My heart skips a beat, and I try to busy myself with opening the slides.
“Yeah…yeah.”
My right hand holds the mouse in a firm grip, almost breaking the plastic. The familiar unease settles in my gut, today mixed with a foreign warm, feverish feeling. My face is hot, my palms clammy. It feels as if all the air is sucked out of my lungs, and I’m unable to breathe. The last thing I want is to pass out in front of Zander.
“Are you okay? Do you need a minute?”
His words are a reality check for me.
What was I thinking?
As if I’d ever have a chance with anyone, let alone someone like Zander. I don’t even have the courage to sit with him alone in my office, a place where I’m at my best.
My eyes sting, but I push back the tears. It takes all my will to not keen. My mouth is dry, and with trembling hands, I pick up a glass of water from the table.
What do I do now?
What I want to do is run and hide someplace far away.
“You know, when I’m nervous, I take deep breaths,” he says in a soft voice. It’s so different from his Wolverine voice from yesterday.
I peek at him through wet lashes, and he watches me closely. I’m sure he’s guessed by now what a dork I am.
But he surprises me.
“Ms. Marlin, it’s perfectly okay to feel nervous when discussing the future of your team, your staff.” He pauses, giving me time to absorb his words. “I understand how you’re feeling.”
Oh, trust me, you don’t.
Thank goodness. He thinks team-restructuring is the reason for my nervousness. I clear my throat and look at the presentation, trying to pull his attention away from me and back to my work.
“Um, I did research on the grant applications and contacted some professors. I think…we can avoid major reorganization in tech.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Are you sure?”
The anxiousness in my chest slowly subsides as I walk him through the data I collected last night.
“But this comes with a salary dip. Do you have some stats on the pay cuts?” He rubs his hand across his five o’clock shadow, and my breath catches at the prosaic act.
I pull my gaze away from his chiseled face and bring it back to the computer, then I open the graph where I have some rough estimates on the net salary per position.
“Please note, this is not…comprehensive. I have used, um publicly available tax numbers for…rough calculations.”
“You think employees would still be interested?”
“I…think so. At least, this way you can give people some time…to wrap their head around the news.” I clear my throat when his eyebrows furrow as he glances at the slides hesitantly. “Some people…are not so good…with surprises, you know.”
I feel his gaze lingering on me as I close the presentation.
