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That shot I had back at the bar was long burned off. My heart was pumping so frantically that the liquor never had a chance to make me buzzed. But was I seeing this correctly? No password? There was only his home screen, which had a background photo of Maverick with three other guys. One looked a lot like him, but had a beard, so I assumed he was a brother. Were the other two brothers as well?
“Holy hot lineup,” Mal murmured, leaning down for a closer look. “I’m not sure which one I’d pick.”
I looked over my shoulder at her. “I didn’t realize that was an option.”
She rolled her eyes at me, then hip checked me in the shoulder since it was at just the right height. “Come on. Have some fun.”
“Your kind of fun got me in this situation in the first place,” I reminded.
She wasn’t to be distracted. “I won’t pick Maverick because he’s yours.”
“He’s not mine,” I countered.
“He totally is. If you sent some random guy that sex quiz, you wouldn’t be this freaked out.”
“Yes, I would.”
She turned and leaned against the edge of the desk so she faced me. “You’re telling me if you sent the quiz to Bixby that you’d freak?”
“Bixby isn’t random and would know you put me up to it.”
“True. I’d pick him.” She turned and pointed at the brother on the far right of the photo. With his light brown hair and wide grin, he was good looking. But nothing like Maverick.
God, I got hot just staring at him in a group photo. That wavy hair. That smile. Those eyes.
I clicked on his email icon and waited a second for his inbox to fill the screen.
“There!” Mallory shouted and pointed again.
A thrill shot through me. There was the email! I clicked on the little box beside it, a checkbox filling it when I did so, then slid my finger over the trackpad toward the delete button and–
“Looking for something?”
I hit Delete before I launched to my feet, knocking Mallory back a few steps, bumping into the water cooler and making the half-full water jug wobble.
“Maverick. I was… I just–”
The corner of his mouth turned up, probably thinking Mallory and I were two of the Three Stooges the way we’d reacted. He was still in the pink t-shirt and jeans. Every time I saw him, he was even more handsome.
Maybe it was the lack of harsh fluorescent lighting. Or maybe it was just my ovaries telling me he was the one they wanted to give an egg to.
“Email,” I blurted. “I was checking your email.”
I couldn’t lie to save my life.
“Oh? I received the updated report.”
I slapped the laptop lid down. “Yes, good. I sent it and worried you didn’t get it. Since you’re leaving tomorrow and all.”
He took a step closer. “That’s the thing about emails. I can get them wherever I am.”
“You’re Maverick James,” Mallory said with all her extroverted powers. The way she was eyeing him like a pile of Halloween candy after a few hours of hardcore trick or treating made me have feelings–like jealousy–I didn’t want to think about.
Maverick’s gaze lingered on mine another moment, then met Mallory’s.
“I am, but I don’t know who you are.”
She shrugged, waved her hand. “Oh, I’m Bridge’s best friend. She wouldn’t be here without me.”
