business was all about networking, and she’d made plenty of useful contacts due to her social skills. People fascinated her as a general rule, and genuine interest in another human being was a great way to make friends. Des seemed to possess a similar knack, his self-assurance making her curious about how he’d acquired those qualities. When they’d met yesterday, she’d let that curiosity lead her, but now she felt defensive, closed.
She recognized it, and it baffled her, but she didn’t seem able to turn it off. His proximity turned it up even higher.
“Good morning.” Retrieving the file folder she was carrying under her arm, she waved it before he reached her, like a sword keeping him outside her personal space. “I have a favor to ask before we get started, if you don’t mind. It’ll only take a minute.”
It was a legitimate request, but she’d brought it to reinforce the message that she didn’t want this to move too far from a professional relationship. Should she have come at all?
Why did she always second guess herself like this? Every fucking time she found herself edging toward a relationship with a guy, all the confidence she possessed to excel in every other aspect of her life deserted her like rats from a sinking ship.
“Sure,” he said, appearing far more casual about it than she felt.
She sidled to his left side, opening the file to let him see. Thank goodness her head was dipped, so when she closed her eyes briefly to inhale his scent, he didn’t notice. But he touched her back between her shoulder blades and slid down, a reassuring stroke. Opening her eyes, she glanced up at him. He was looking at her, not the folder, and his brown eyes were thoughtful.
“You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little tense. I promise this will be fun. No stress. Unless you have a flower phobia.”
She forced a laugh. “I’m fine. I guess I’m stuck in work mode. These past few weeks have been crazy.”
“Okay. Let’s take care of it, and then put it away for the next couple hours. All right?”
There it was, that tone of voice, the direct look, a subtle, enticing taking-of-control that put a nervous twitch in her hand. It made the folder shudder like a trapped butterfly. His gaze shifted to it and she forced herself to stillness.
“Yeah, okay.” She looked down at the folder contents as if she’d just affably agreed to something far more innocent. His hand remained on her back as he pressed closer to her to share her view. The heat of the full palm contact penetrated her thin, silky blouse, a jewel blue color. She’d kept her hair up in a ponytail, though she’d taken more care with it, arranging short wisps around her face. The thick tail had an abundance of curls that wouldn’t turn to frizz until the day gained more humidity, so for now it was looking good. She’d refused to shellac it with hairspray. He might want to touch her hair, bury his fingers in it, tip her head back to put his mouth on her throat…
So much for the pretense that this was an arm’s length, friendly exchange of information. For one thing, she was standing well within his arm span.
His fingers played with the end of the ponytail, making her think he was wrapping short curls over his knuckles as she showed him what she’d brought. She’d never let anyone touch her so intimately, so casually, so fast. She needed to tell him to stop, to reinforce what she’d told him on the phone. She hated being one of those women who said one thing but acted just the opposite, whose words were a smokescreen to cover what she really wanted.
Long and short of it, she didn’t want to get hurt one more time. She was done with the slide along the rainbow that always dumped her into a pot of ice cold sludge.
That reminder recalled her to sanity. She sidled away from him, breaking the contact, and thrust the folder at him so he had to take it from her. There. If she had to get more direct about it, she would. Hands off. Her
She recognized it, and it baffled her, but she didn’t seem able to turn it off. His proximity turned it up even higher.
“Good morning.” Retrieving the file folder she was carrying under her arm, she waved it before he reached her, like a sword keeping him outside her personal space. “I have a favor to ask before we get started, if you don’t mind. It’ll only take a minute.”
It was a legitimate request, but she’d brought it to reinforce the message that she didn’t want this to move too far from a professional relationship. Should she have come at all?
Why did she always second guess herself like this? Every fucking time she found herself edging toward a relationship with a guy, all the confidence she possessed to excel in every other aspect of her life deserted her like rats from a sinking ship.
“Sure,” he said, appearing far more casual about it than she felt.
She sidled to his left side, opening the file to let him see. Thank goodness her head was dipped, so when she closed her eyes briefly to inhale his scent, he didn’t notice. But he touched her back between her shoulder blades and slid down, a reassuring stroke. Opening her eyes, she glanced up at him. He was looking at her, not the folder, and his brown eyes were thoughtful.
“You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little tense. I promise this will be fun. No stress. Unless you have a flower phobia.”
She forced a laugh. “I’m fine. I guess I’m stuck in work mode. These past few weeks have been crazy.”
“Okay. Let’s take care of it, and then put it away for the next couple hours. All right?”
There it was, that tone of voice, the direct look, a subtle, enticing taking-of-control that put a nervous twitch in her hand. It made the folder shudder like a trapped butterfly. His gaze shifted to it and she forced herself to stillness.
“Yeah, okay.” She looked down at the folder contents as if she’d just affably agreed to something far more innocent. His hand remained on her back as he pressed closer to her to share her view. The heat of the full palm contact penetrated her thin, silky blouse, a jewel blue color. She’d kept her hair up in a ponytail, though she’d taken more care with it, arranging short wisps around her face. The thick tail had an abundance of curls that wouldn’t turn to frizz until the day gained more humidity, so for now it was looking good. She’d refused to shellac it with hairspray. He might want to touch her hair, bury his fingers in it, tip her head back to put his mouth on her throat…
So much for the pretense that this was an arm’s length, friendly exchange of information. For one thing, she was standing well within his arm span.
His fingers played with the end of the ponytail, making her think he was wrapping short curls over his knuckles as she showed him what she’d brought. She’d never let anyone touch her so intimately, so casually, so fast. She needed to tell him to stop, to reinforce what she’d told him on the phone. She hated being one of those women who said one thing but acted just the opposite, whose words were a smokescreen to cover what she really wanted.
Long and short of it, she didn’t want to get hurt one more time. She was done with the slide along the rainbow that always dumped her into a pot of ice cold sludge.
That reminder recalled her to sanity. She sidled away from him, breaking the contact, and thrust the folder at him so he had to take it from her. There. If she had to get more direct about it, she would. Hands off. Her
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