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But not Steven. What you saw was what you got. No lies. No manipulations. No hidden agendas.
It was so refreshing.
“It’s fine.” I avoided eye contact and fidgeted with the streamer on my desk, trying to get my heart rate to slow down and my brain to stop obsessing over those muscular arms.
He retreated to his office but left the door open. I gave up on the decorations for now and started work. I’d continue later when he was away at a meeting or something, so I wouldn’t disturb him.
Istewed in my office for an hour. The anger in her eyes when I had yelled at her haunted me. Why was I such a grumpy bastard?
And what the hell did she think she was doing? She could have face-planted on the floor. Broken her nose. Hurt her back. Sprained an ankle. How could she be so careless with her safety? Was she a magnet for danger?
After a few calming breaths, my anger subsided, replaced with the glorious memory of the feel of her body in my arms. I hadn’t wanted to let go. Her sweet smell intoxicated me. I couldn’t bear the thought of her hurting herself. If she wanted those decorations so badly, I would help her.
I knocked on the open door and stood in the doorframe, unsure if she was still upset. She looked at me apprehensively.
“Ms. Bloom, I’ll help you with your decorations.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What? No. It’s fine. Why would you?”
I straightened my shoulders and strode in. “Because it seems as if you’re prone to accidents, and I won’t risk my intern injuring herself for the sake of tinsel.”
She snorted.
Great. That meant she thought I was being totally ridiculous. It didn’t matter. I would make a fool of myself if it meant helping her. Keeping her from injury. And getting a chance to spend more time with her. “I’m serious.”
“Ok. If you insist. Help me onto my desk.” She held her hand out to me.
“Absolutely not!” I took her hand gently and led her away from the desk. The warmth of her skin caressed mine, and I didn’t want to let go.
But I had to.
“Hand me the streamer,” I said as I jumped up onto her desk. “I’ll tape it to the wall.”
She stared at me with her mouth hanging open. “You leaped onto it like it was merely a step. You didn’t even have to hold onto anything.”
Was I impressing her? I hadn’t meant to. But if I was…I puffed out my chest. “The streamer?”
She gave her head a quick shake. “Right.” She handed me the cheap red and green trimming.
This thing was so gaudy. Where had she gotten this?
“Run it along the wall as close to the ceiling and—no, not that way. I want it to droop down 4 inches in a wavelike pattern.”
I paused. Was she giving me orders? I felt my brow furrow as I looked down at her. I was not used to being on the receiving end of commands.
My ego wanted to resist. Establish my authority over her. But something deep within me suddenly wanted to give in to her wishes. Like a trained monkey, I followed every single one of her instructions until she was satisfied with the streamers.
I jumped off the desk, landing behind her in the small space. My breath hitched at being so close to her.
She didn’t seem to notice, fully engrossed by the streamers on the wall. “Thanks. They look great.”
I stepped back, putting distance between us, while she rummaged in a shopping bag and took out some knickknacks. She held a cheap-ass wreath up against the back wall and marked an X on the wall with a pencil. From her purse, she took out a mini hammer.
“Oh no, you don’t. I don’t want you smashing your finger with that thing.” I grabbed it from her. “Give me a nail.”
She rested her fists on her hips. “I’m perfectly capable of hammering a tiny nail in the wall without losing a finger. I’m not that much of a klutz.”
“In one week, you nearly crashed to the floor. Twice.” Three times, if you counted the time she nearly fell when the mugger chased her. “Nothing you say will convince me that you’re not accident prone.” I held my hand out. “Give me the nail.”
