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Grandma.
“What did she do?” I wonder aloud.
“You know who did this?” he asks.
Gazing up, I’m drawn to worry evident in his deep brown eyes; so dark, they’re muddied with concern and compassion. The glasses that I’ve only seen him wear when he’s working are perched high up on his nose. A strong jaw frames his tanned face, and his lips are parted, little puffs of breath seeping from his open mouth.
“Yeah, I know who did this. This trickery has my elderly grandma’s signature all over it.”
Dean leans back in his seat, taking in my statement. “Why would she do this? Doesn’t she understand how much trouble you could have gotten into if I hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers?”
“I’m sure she knows you’d be thorough in checking the paperwork. And I haven’t exactly figured out why she did this, but don’t worry, I will. Can we make the changes to this and clear up the mess?”
“Yeah, she actually wrote it in pencil so we could probably just erase it, but I’d prefer to reprint clean copies.”
Reaching into my bag, I pull out my laptop. I set it on the table and boot it up. While I’m waiting for it to start, Dean brings over a USB cord that connects to his printer. He watches as my home screen appears, displaying a picture of my five sisters and me at the beach this past summer.
“I was going to ask if they were your friends, but the resemblance is uncanny,” he says, a small smile plays on his lips.
“Yeah, five sisters.”
“No brothers?”
“Nope. I think Mom and Dad stopped trying after five and six were twin girls,” I reply with a chuckle. Pointing to the screen, I introduce him to my sisters. “Jaime, AJ, Meghan, Lexi, and Abby.”
“I’ve seen a few of them around town. I didn’t realize they were your sisters, though I probably should have noticed the resemblance.”
Absently, I touch the screen before clicking on the accounting program I use. It only takes a few moments before it’s up and I’m able to reprint my report. Dean grabs the papers from the printer and brings them over to me. I watch him work for a few moments, silently observing the way he pushes up his glasses and the way little wrinkles appear between his brows while he’s concentrating.
“I think we’re all set,” he says, dropping his pen on the tabletop.
“Excellent.” Quickly, I shut down my computer and pack it back in my bag.
My original Wednesday night plan was my favorite takeout of Chicago style hotdogs and curly fries, and maybe reruns on television. Now, my vivid imagination is conjuring up other things that I wouldn’t mind doing tonight. Namely Dean McIntire.
But that’s not going to happen. He’s the one who insisted we keep our relationship professional, and I wholly agree. I’m not looking for anything more than a few fun nights, and even though I’m not sure what he’s looking for, I’m sure it doesn’t match my thoughts.
“Thank you for stopping by and helping get this mess straightened out.”
“Oh, no problem. I’m glad it wasn’t something more serious than it was.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’m not sure her motives for the added digits, so you’ll have to let me know if you find out.”
Throwing my computer bag over my shoulder, I reply, “You can bet your ass I’ll be asking her about it.”
My green eyes clash with his brown ones. An invisible electric current charges through the air. I can see his chest moving, drawing in deep breaths of air, while I’m wondering if I’m even breathing. He’s breathtaking in his crisp white dress shirt and dark blue tie. Black trousers fit to perfection around his trim waist and nice ass. I never really had a type, but if I did, he’d be it. A little bit nerdy mixed with a lot of masculine. He’s like gravity; my body is drawn to him.
He takes a step towards me, then another. Dean stands before me, close enough to touch. My mind is battling between what it should do and what it will do. I should thank him for his time and walk out the door. It’s what I’ve been saying I’ll do if I should ever hear from him again, but now confronted with the situation, I can’t seem to make myself say the words.
Instead, I let my bag slide down my arm and drop on the floor. I take a half step forward until I’m practically plastered to his front. My heart pounds in my chest as lust and desire take over all rational thought. Because no matter what I say or how hard I try to convince myself, I just want him.
And I’m going to have him again.
At least for tonight.
