Crossing Hathaway by Jocelyn Adams Page A

noticed.” He held his hand out, his chin working unsuccessfully to contain his amusement. “Here, let me.”
    I handed him the paper towels and patted my chest where my heart did its best to break free of my ribcage.
    Dave finished up and stood in front of me. “You’re very cute when you jump like that.”
    I did a double take and gaped at him, confused. “I’m what?”
    “I said you’re cute, all flustered and rosy-faced.”
    My cheeks blazed harder, and I turned my back to him, turning only enough to peer at him through a few strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. “I’m a lot of things, Dave, but cute has never been one of them.” I cleared my throat. “Is there something I can do for you?”
    When he leaned against the counter beside me, I shuffled away.
    “I was wondering if you’d like to go to a concert with me Friday night. My buddy’s the drummer in a band and they’re performing at a little club downtown.”
    What, no gaming raids booked that night? “Oh, no, but thanks. Like I told your coworker last week, I don’t date.” I snatched my muffin from the counter and stared at it while my fingers picked at the crumbs.
    “I thought you just told him that because he’s a total dweeb. Come on, Eva, it’ll be fun. You can meet me there if you want, and I’ll be a total gentleman, I promise.”
    Yeah. Gentleman was a euphemism for “I’ll be all nice and sweet until you trust me enough to show me your girl goodies. Then I’ll fuck your best friend and laugh when you cry and tell me you believed we had something ‘special.’” Nu-uh. No thanks, pal—been there, done that, and had a lifetime supply of memories to prove it.
    With a gargantuan effort, I forced my gaze back to him and manufactured a smile. “I appreciate it, Dave, but I’m not interested in dating. Have a good time, though.”
    I sped out the door and down the hall fast enough I bumped into the FedEx guy and fled as his packages rained down behind me. With the turmoil of the last few days, tears threatened war at any moment. An army of wet soldiers poised on my lashes. If I stopped, the memories would overwhelm me. I’d be forced to watch the only person I’d ever given myself to break my heart again.
    Never. Again.

    * * * *

    I returned to Mr. Hathaway’s surveillance room and spent the following two hours doing online research and hitting up my favorite suppliers, promising huge sales potential if they could save my life and call me back within the hour. The caffeine continued to wreak havoc in my body as I waited for the phone calls and e-mails to roll in. My legs burned with the need to run or jump or fly around the moon doing pirouettes. The quiet, other than the humming of the servers, made me jumpy so I pulled up a YouTube video on the computer attached directly to one of the wall monitors.
    After starting up Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance,” I stepped out of the room, shut the door, and checked the volume. I couldn’t hear anything—another soundproof room. I didn’t see or hear any signs of Mr. Hathaway, either. I didn’t need him to catch me riding out the damn caffeine trip.
    Back inside, I watched the video and tapped my foot.
    The adrenaline coursing through my body and the infectious beat of the song urged me to my feet, mimicking the dance moves on the screen, gyrating my hips, singing to match the volume. The release of energy filled me with endorphins as I continued, straddling one of the office chairs and riding it like a cowgirl at the hussy rodeo.
    The door clicked shut behind me.
    I froze in midthrust when my spinning head reminded me where I was, who’d be behind me, and what I must look like to him, dry humping a chair and watching Lady Gaga while I was supposed to be working.
    Fuckballs ! Stupid Red Bull.

    Chapter 6

    I detangled myself from the chair, hopping on one leg, grunting. Nothing could have made me look at him in that moment. My skin burned. “Mr.