Crossing Hathaway by Jocelyn Adams Page B

Hathaway—”
    “What are you doing, Ms. Ross?” His voice, low and even, rumbled into the room like the first warning crack of a thunderstorm.
    Crap.
    I grabbed the empty can of Red Bull from the desk in my trembling fist. “I had caffeine. I was tired and I drank a Red Bull even when I knew I shouldn’t because caffeine does funny things to me and I needed to work off some energy so I turned on some music.” I shook my head and put my hand over my eyes. “Shit, I sound like a rambling idiot.” My mouth fell open. “Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”
    “So … this is how you amuse yourself? Dancing?”
    His tone sounded different somehow, lighter, not so I’m-the-king-of-the-fucking-hill-ish. My gaze crawled up his body until I made it to his face, but he turned and stared at one of the surveillance monitors before I caught his expression.
    Why didn’t he just yell at me and get it over with?
    “Look, I’m sorry. Caffeine and sugar are like drugs to me, and no matter how tired I was, I should never have downed a Red Bull like that. I wanted to do a good job. The proposal is done. Well … except for the prices. It’s typed and ready. I’m just waiting for my suppliers to call back. I’ll have it done before I leave today.”
    “Are you hungry?”
    I squinted at him, certain I hadn’t heard him right. “Am I what, now?”
    He angled himself toward me. The shine of his eyes betrayed his silent laughter. “I asked if you’re hungry.”
    He was laughing at me?
    Relief spread through me, a warm tingling from head to toe. The sight of his beautiful face, bright with humor, stole away my embarrassment and made me a little dizzy.
    “You mean … you’re not mad?”
    “Your work is done ahead of schedule. Why would I be angry?” He started for the door, giving me a full view of his splendiferous backside. “Go and eat your lunch. Food will take the edge off your … buzz.” He smoothed a hand down his face, his shoulders bouncing a little.
    My cheeks grew hot again. Asshat.
    “Actually, I don’t get very good reception on my BlackBerry here so I gave my suppliers my Gmail account and the extension in this office to call back. I don’t want to leave until I talk to them.”
    “Then I’ll tell Brent to fetch two orders.”
    What? On what universe had I landed where Mr. Hathaway was buying me lunch? Maybe the caffeine had taken me into an alternate dimension?
    “Oh.” My brows pinched together. “Thanks, that’s generous of you, Mr. Hathaway.”
    “Ben.”
    I waited for him to say more, straining to hear in case I missed it. “Beg pardon?”
    “You may call me Ben.”
    I swallowed and searched the room for Candid Camera . “Okay. Ben.”
    “I’ll call you when the food arrives.” Without sparing me another glance, he left and shut the door behind him.
    I stood there for a while, scratching my head in utter confusion. Before meeting Mr. Hathaway, I thought I understood people, but wasn’t sure I’d ever understand that man. I’d always loved puzzles and he was a living, breathing one. With only one day to solve him before handing him back over to Cameron, I needed to get to work.
    Half an hour later, I’d sweet-talked my supplier into an amazing deal on a new camera system. I was so totally going to knock his socks off with my talents.
    Mr. Hathaway popped his head into the surveillance office. “Lunch is here.”
    I grabbed my proposal from the printer and followed him into the dim hallway, practically skipping over the solution I’d put together. If that didn’t impress him, nothing would. He’d turned up the lights a little so I didn’t trip all over myself again.
    We went through a door into a giant boardroom. A long, cherry-wood table stretched along the center of the rectangular room, and two rows of lights shone a muted glow from the ceiling. Black-and-white photographs held in black frames lined the cream-colored walls. It was tasteful, neat, and tidy, just as he