Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
It’s just my bad luck that I run out of Donovan’s office and straight into Ethan. Literally.
He’s rounding the corner as I flee down the hallway, Donovan calling my name. My hair’s in my face, the brown waves a mess from our ill-fated make-out session, so I don’t see Ethan until I plow right into him with an impact that sends me stumbling backward…straight into Donovan, who’s come after me.
Freaking perfect.
Donovan steadies me, his hands on my shoulders, then, just as quickly, lets me go. I step away from him, trying desperately to tame my hair and look like I wasn’t just climbing Smashbox’s data engineer’s gorgeous body. What if Ethan can tell? Also, what is he doing here at ten o’clock at night?
“You two are working late,” Ethan says. Is it my imagination, or are those five words laden with innuendo?
“I—well, we—” I begin, tugging at the hem of my shirt to straighten it. Surely it would be reasonable for him to assume that I look bedraggled because the two of us just collided. I was hurrying when he came around the corner. There’s no way he got a really solid look at me.
Right?
“We were working on the new project. Like you asked us to,” Donovan says, stepping smoothly into the breach. I spare him a glance, afraid even that will give away the fact that those full, sculpted lips of his just spent the past ten minutes glued to mine. To my annoyance, he looks cool and composed, the cuffs of his button-down perfectly aligned and his blue eyes as icy as ever. For an instant, I wonder if I’ve imagined the whole thing.
But no. My mouth still tingles from his kisses. And, much less romantically, my bruised butt hurts from its encounter with his desk. It’s amazing what fails to make an impression when there’s four thousand gallons of sexy, sexy hormones pumping through your body.
“Such dedicated employees,” Ethan says, his teeth gleaming white through the neatly trimmed thicket of his beard. “I have to say, I’m impressed with your teamwork. The way things were going the first time the two of you were in my office, I thought I might have to send you to a cabin in the woods together, cut off from civilization, just to force you to learn how to get along. But here you are, collaborating into the wee hours. That car accident must’ve been quite the bonding experience.”
I fight back the image of what it would be like to be snowed in somewhere with Donovan, in front of a roaring fire, a rom-com forced proximity trope come to life. He’d probably be stacking the kindling in size order or something equally control-freak-esque. Maybe shirtless, for maximum viewing pleasure. I’d sneak up and wrap my arms around him, scaring the hell out of him and disrupting his absurd organizational system. He’d be mad, of course, but I’d make it up to him by dropping to my knees right there and?—
Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?
My face flames as I stammer, “Y-yes. Very bondage. I mean bonding.” Jesus take the wheel. “Nothing says get to know you better like vehicular catastrophe,” I barrel on, my mouth having apparently decided to carry on without my consent. “Unless it’s an unprecedented deadline.”
Great. Now I’ve managed to mention BDSM in relationship to my coworker and offend my boss in the space of four sentences. Maybe I should just strip and run naked down the hallway, for maximum humiliation.
Ethan, thank God, looks amused. His lips curl up, and he folds his arms across his chest. “You’re right, Rune, the deadline was unprecedented. It surprised me as much as it did you. But you’re two of my most trusted employees, and I knew if anyone was up to the task, you were. Exhibit A: you’re still here, although it looks like I surprised you in the midst of a much-needed coffee run. Or maybe you were done and leaving for the night? In which case, I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with.”
Instinctively, I fumble for my laptop, and realize I left it on my desk. My Mac is like an extension of my body; for me to be unnerved enough to abandon it is an indication of my messed-up state of mind. “I—I could show you,” I say finally, fumbling for a hint of professionalism. “I can’t speak for Donovan, but based on the details you shared with us, I have some preliminary mockups for a logo. I’ve also started putting together the basics of several potential branding packages. Without knowing more about the program’s ultimate functionality, it’s hard for me to tell if I’m spot-on, but you did give us a good sense of some complementary services that are already on the market, so hopefully I’m in the ballpark.”
Ethan’s face lights up. “Fantastic. When I saw the light was still on in your office, I hoped I’d get a glimpse behind the scenes. Shall we?”
He gestures in Donovan’s direction, toward the half-open door through which I just escaped. With a sense of doom pervading every inch of my body, I trudge back the way I came, Donovan stalking beside me. He doesn’t say a word, but his jaw is so tight, you could use it to crack walnuts. Luckily, this is so close to his usual Ice Man m.o., Ethan doesn’t seem to notice.
Keep it together, Rune, I chant to myself as I walk over to my laptop and type in my password. But it’s not easy.
God, what would we have done if Ethan had come around the corner two minutes earlier? He wouldn’t even have been able to open the office door, because we were too busy devouring each other against it. I don’t care what the employee manual says, that’s about as unprofessional as it gets. And if I lose my job, I’ll have to leave Sapphire Springs. This is a small town; unless I manage to score remote work, I won’t be able to afford to stay here. I’ll lose my little cottage, and Charlotte, Jess, and the girls, the closest thing I have to a family.
Now that the monster’s dead, I don’t have to worry that he’ll come back here and find me. I can finally just…live. Sure, living means dealing with my premonitions, but that’s the only life I’ve ever known. Sapphire Springs is my home.
I have to make this work.
“So,” I say in my best here’s-why-you-hired-me voice as Ethan comes to stand behind me, “in the materials you shared this morning, you said the client wants to project a classy image while simultaneously implying a sense of modernity and a cutting-edge sensibility. I’ve come up with three potential color palettes to use throughout the website and other branding materials, as well as the logo, although of course that needs to work just as well in black and white…”
Moving on autopilot, I take Ethan through the pitch deck I’ve put together. He asks questions and requests adjustments, all of which I address while doing my best to pretend that I can’t sense Donovan’s lurking presence. He’s retreated behind his curved monitors again, but I can still feel him there, the air between us heavy with all we’ve left unsaid.
“Excellent!” Ethan says when I’m done. “I’m looking forward to showing this to the client tomorrow. Yes, it’s Saturday, but they’re eager to see what you’ve pulled together. In the meantime, I’ve scheduled a meeting for us to meet with the historical society on Monday at four. One of the backers behind this project serves on the board, and there are two professional genealogists who might prove to be an excellent source of inspiration for both of you.”
This is one of my least favorite things about Ethan: he always assumes that you can make time for whatever he’s got planned. But he pays well, and he’s so much like a golden retriever—excited and joyful even while he’s tramping mud all over your white carpet—that it’s hard to be mad. “Monday at four,” I say, pulling out my phone to add the meeting to my calendar. “Got it.”
“Frost!” Ethan says cheerfully, turning to address the man behind the monitors. “Have you taken a look at this? Rune’s come up with some stellar options here.”
From Donovan’s direction comes a noncommittal grunt. “Design’s not really my thing. You hired me to code, so that’s what I’m doing.”
It’s so blunt as to tip over into nastiness, but Ethan must be used to this—either that, or he doesn’t care—because he ignores it. “Yes, but the two of you are supposed to be working together. Who knows, maybe Rune’s work will inspire you. Get over here, would you?”
With another grunt, this one of annoyance, Donovan gets to his feet, in full-on Ice Man mode—either genuinely disinterested, aggravated with Ethan, or pissed that I fled without much of an explanation. Try as I might, I can’t see a hint of the man who pinned me against the door. He comes to stand next to my desk, a good two feet away, and Ethan sighs. “How are you going to see from there? I know you don’t care for humans, Frost, but Rune’s not going to bite you.”
My face flushes at the memory of Donovan’s teeth nipping at my collarbone. The back of my neck feels like it’s on fire as he edges closer, until he’s close enough to touch. He’s careful to keep a couple of inches between us, but I swear the tension’s so thick, it’s tough to breathe. “Nice,” he mutters, eyes fixed on the screen.
“You don’t even know what you’re looking at! Rune, show him the iconography options you’re proposing for the website. One’s more sleek, but the other’s more intricate. I’d love to know your opinion.”
“I’m not really qualified—” Donovan begins in a low rumble, just as the lights in the office flicker. And then, in spectacular fashion, they all go out, leaving us in inky darkness.