most people wouldn’t understand. In between those scribblings were messages they wrote to one another and sometimes a rousing game of tic-tac-toe. What Avery didn’t know, and Jonah would never tell him, was that he’d kept every single page of gibberish in a drawer at home. So pathetic.
Jonah picked up a pen and wrote, You’re fired.
Avery pulled another pen from the cup on Jonah’s desk and wrote, Ha! You’re a funny guy. Then Avery returned the pen to the cup and smiled impishly.
Jonah had seen that same wicked grin behind his closed eyelids in the early morning hours. Recalling it in his office made him break out in a cold sweat.
“I don’t know why you insist on goofing around when there’s work to be done,” Avery said in a mockingly severe tone. His lips quivered, ruining the effect, but he continued. “We’re so close to completing your microchip design. It will change the way people view cybersecurity, so maybe you focus on that instead of Bill and Ashley.”
Jonah grimaced. “Do I really come off sounding that douchey?”
Avery’s eyes widened. “God, no. I was trying to imitate Trexler. Seems I need to work on my skills.”
“Or, we could focus on the microchip,” Jonah suggested.
“Fine. Be a thundercloud,” Avery teased. “The storms woke me up this morning, and I started thinking about you.”
Jonah quirked a brow, and Avery’s eyes widened.
“I meant the chip. I have some ideas on how to improve it. To beat a hacker, you have to think like one. You”—Avery pointed at Jonah—“don’t think like a hacker. Do you want to hear my suggestions?”
“Of course.”
He’d be an idiot not to listen to Avery’s suggestions because Ellen had been right about his intern’s skillset. He was brilliant. Jonah just wished his admiration stopped there and didn’t wander to Avery’s lithe body, or his generous mouth, and pert ass. As fine as those attributes were, and he’d spent many hours thinking about them, Avery’s feisty spirit was the irresistible flame Jonah couldn’t ignore.
Too bad Avery’s exuberance also meant he liked to gesture with his hands, sometimes wildly. It was how Jonah’s coffee cup ended up knocked over a few hours later.
“Fuck!” Jonah said, shoving his chair back from his desk. He wasn’t fast enough.
“Oh no.” Avery’s horror-stricken voice matched his expression. “Not again.”
Jonah glared at his intern as he stood up. “Yes, again. I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, striding toward the door.
“On purpose? For what reason?”
“To drive me crazy,” he replied, picking up the pace.
“How’s it working so far?”
Jonah yanked open the bathroom door down the hall and was relieved to see it was empty. “I found the perfect intern for you. You’ll wonder how you ever survived without him,” Jonah said, mimicking his aunt’s voice.
“Oh, that’s a great impersonation. Now, do me,” Avery said.
Jonah jerked to a halt, pivoted, and strode toward Avery, who mistook the intensity on Jonah’s face as anger. He backed up until his body pressed against the door, and there was nowhere for him to go. Avery notched his chin up higher, challenging Jonah.
“You want me to do you? Is that what you just said?” Jonah didn’t press his body to Avery’s, but he stood close enough to feel his intern’s heat. Avery’s soap or fabric softener smelled like rain.
Avery’s pupils dilated, and he darted his tongue out to moisten his lips. Jonah couldn’t tear his eyes away from the movement. What he wanted most in the world was within his reach. Avery emitted this little whimpering gasp that grabbed Jonah by the balls, and the moth glided closer. “It is what I said,” Avery whispered. He started to lift his hand toward Jonah’s face when a burst of laughter from the hallway startled him.
Jonah pushed off the door and walked over to the sink.
What have you done to me, Aunt Ellie?
Jonah rubbed a wet paper towel over the enormous coffee stain on the front of his dress shirt.
“You’re not doing it right,” Avery said as he approached.
Jonah jerked his head up and met Avery’s gaze. “Absolutely no one has ever told me that before,” he said huskily.
Avery swallowed hard as he took the wet paper towel from his hands. “You have to dab it,” he said, demonstrating. “Otherwise you’ll make it worse.”
Jonah wrapped his hand around Avery’s wrist, hating the fabric separating their skin. “I think I got it now.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind showing you again.”
“Yeah.” He reluctantly released Avery’s wrist one finger at a time. Reclaiming