Love According to Science_ A Hot Enemies-t-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club #2) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,37

precedence over our plans. But I wanted some advice regarding the frustrating departure of my orgasms. I should have brought it up months ago—no doubt Nora would have a list of solutions—but I’d hoped things would return to normal on their own.

They had not. And I was afraid to admit that something about me was clearly broken.

Work, however, was not sexually arousing, and would therefore not contribute to my growing discomfort and frustration. So, working late it was.

I looked at the check marks on my list with satisfaction. I’d been very productive since my coworkers had left for the weekend, the quiet of the empty building doing wonders for my ability to focus. Corban still hadn’t sent me his choices for the conference sessions, so I’d have to transfer that item to Monday’s list. But otherwise, I’d accomplished almost everything I’d tasked myself with completing tonight.

“Corban,” I muttered to myself, tapping my pen against the desk.

I shouldn’t have given him a second cinnamon roll. Who did he think he was, commenting on my potential date? It wasn’t any of his business if I went out with Antonio for coffee.

Although I’d turned him down.

After Corban had rudely stormed out of the staff lounge, I’d typed a furious acceptance and almost hit send. But something had stopped me.

I’d taken some deep breaths and analyzed my feelings. The truth was simple: I didn’t want to go on a coffee date with Antonio. And I didn’t want to rope myself into a date just to spite Corban.

So I hadn’t accepted.

I adjusted my glasses and put down my almost-completed list. Dwelling on my irritating coworker wasn’t helping my mood. I’d simply have to force him out of my mind, finish a few more things, and go home to feed Erwin.

I needed to make some copies, so I grabbed the necessary stack of folders and got up from my desk.

The nameplate outside my office was turned around, the blank side facing out. Again. With an irritated growl, I slid it from the holder and turned it so my name was once again visible.

Corban didn’t have a name plate yet, but when he did, I was going to do him one better. Instead of turning his around, like he kept doing to mine, I was going to have another one made. I was still mulling over ideas for what to have printed on it. Asshole would probably get me in trouble. Perhaps his name spelled wrong. How long would it take before he noticed it said Norban Cash outside his office?

I walked by his closed door, toward the copy room at the end of the hall. My heels clicked against the floor, their echo making the building sound eerily hollow. The unusual silence made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was so rarely this quiet. Even Pete the janitor had gone home for the night.

The copy room was a small space, with the requisite copy machine, a worktable, and shelves full of office supplies. I flipped the light on and got to work.

The copier light flashed and the machine whirred, spitting out several warm copies onto the side paper tray. Holding my stack of folders with one arm, I lifted the lid and pulled off the original.

A loud bump behind me made my heart leap into my throat and I gasped, dropping the folders. Papers fluttered down. I whipped around, sucking in another breath, and braced myself to face an attacker.

It wasn’t an attacker. Corban stood in the doorway staring at me with his mouth open.

“What’s wrong with you?” I snapped. “You can’t go sneaking around the building at night.”

“I wasn’t sneaking.” His button-down shirt was actually tucked in, but he was still wearing Converse with his work clothes. He raked a hand through his thick hair. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“I’ve been in my office. You didn’t see me?”

“I was in the lab. I didn’t notice everyone else left.”

I let out a breath and crouched down to pick up the papers strewn around my feet. Corban helped me scoop them up and I stood, tapping them into a neat pile as best I could. I’d have to reorganize everything at my desk.

“Um, Hazel?”

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat.

I took my copies off the paper tray and tucked them into a folder. “What?”

“Your, um… buttons.”

I looked at him first, before his words registered. His eyes flicked down to my chest and suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. His tongue did