.â
Joshua dangles from the end of my fishing line, a glossy fish, flipping and irrevocably hooked. I can feel the expanse of air between us vibrating with tension.
âCome over here, I need to whisper it,â I murmur, glancing left and right although we both know thereâs nobody for miles.
Joshua shakes his head reflexively and I look at his lap. Heâs not the only one who can stare underneath the desk.
âOh,â I say to be a smartass, but to my astonishment color begins to burn on Joshuaâs cheekbones. Joshua Templeman is turned on in my presence. Why does it make me want to tease him even more?
âIâll come over and tell you.â I lock my computer screen.
âIâm fine.â
âI have to share it.â I walk over slowly and put my hands on the edge of his desk. He looks at my fishnet legs with such a tormented expression I almost feel sorry for him.
âThis is unprofessional.â He glances at the ceiling for inspiration before finding it. âHR.â
âIs that our safe word? Okay.â In this fluorescent lighting he looks irritatingly healthy and gold, his skin even and unblemished. But thereâs a faint sheen on his face.
âYouâre a little sweaty.â I take the Post-its from his desk and plant a big, slow kiss on top. I peel it off and stick it in the middle of his computer screen.
âI hope youâre not coming down with something.â I walk away toward the kitchen. I hear the wheels on his chair make a faint wheeze.
L IVE A LITTLE.
Dannyâs cubicle is stripped down and a little chaotic. Packing boxes and stacks of paper and files are everywhere.
âHi!â
He jolts and makes a jagged gray smudge on the author photograph he was Photoshopping. Real smooth, Lucy.
âSorry. I should wear a bell.â
âNo, itâs okay. Hi.â He hits Undo, Save, and then swivels, hiseyes sliding up and down me as fast as lightning, before getting snagged on the hemline of my dress for an extra few seconds.
âHi. I was wondering if youâd come up with any inventions for us to get started on?â
I canât believe how forward Iâm being, but Iâm in a desperate situation. My pride is at stake here. I need someone sitting next to me tonight on a barstool or Joshua will laugh his ass off.
A smile spreads across his face. âIâve got a half-finished time machine I could get you to take a look at.â
âTheyâre pretty straightforward. I can help you out.â
âName the time and place.â
âThe sports bar on Federal? Tonight, seven oâclock?â
âSounds great. Here, Iâll give you my number.â Our fingers graze when he gives it to me. My, my. What a nice boy. Where on earth has he been all this time?
âSee you tonight. Bring, um, blueprints.â I weave back through the cubicles and climb the stairs back to the top floor, mentally dusting my hands.
Time to work. I drop back into my seat and begin work on the proposal outlining our desire to run a team-building activity. I put two signature spaces at the bottom, sign my name, and dump it into his in-tray. He takes a full two hours to even pick it up. When he does, he reads it in about four seconds. He slashes his signature onto it and flicks it into his out-tray without a glance. He has been in a weird mood this afternoon.
I steeple my fingers and commence the Staring Game. It takes about three minutes but he eventually heaves a sigh and locks his screen. We stare so deep into each otherâs eyes we join each other in a dark 3-D computer realm; nothing but green gridlines and silence.
âSo. Nervous?â
âWhy would I be?â
âYour big date, Shortcake. You havenât had one in a while. As long as Iâve known you, I think.â He indicates quotation marks with his fingers at big date. Heâs positive itâs all a lie.
âIâm way too