Yes & I Love You (Say Everything #1) - Roni Loren Page 0,5
said. “That’s a relief.”
“Excuse me?” Her throat had narrowed to the circumference of a pencil, and the words came out broken around the edges.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and his smile went full span. “Well, it would suck if on my first day at a new place, I was the one to find the body.”
She was supposed to smile back or laugh or something, but as usual, her body didn’t cooperate. She didn’t do well one-on-one with any stranger, but this guy was launching her system straight to Armageddon level. Attraction was the worst. It was like detonating a bomb inside her, setting off all the most embarrassing aspects of her anxiety and Tourette’s. Most people got a little nervous when they were attracted to someone, but for her, it was amplified a hundred times over. She was doing everything she could to act chill, white-knuckling her neurons, but she knew it couldn’t last. She was bound to tic or say something awkward. Her tension increased—a rubber band being pulled, pulled, pulled. “Did you need something?”
Inwardly, she winced at how rude it sounded.
He flinched and his smile dropped a few watts. She felt a pang at the loss of it. “Uh, yeah, sorry. This woman I met downstairs, Andi, asked if I could bring you this.” He lifted the coffee like he was offering a sacrifice to the gods. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your—” His gaze flicked over her shoulder to her screen, and his eyes widened behind his glasses. “Work? Private moment with your boyfriend? Shoe-fetish research?”
She closed her eyes, mortified, not even bothering to look behind her. “It’s…spam.”
“Hey, no judgment. You do you, friend,” he said genially. “I was just looking for Lucinda, and Andi said you’d know where to point me.”
Hollyn’s face was so hot she felt sunburned. She forced herself to meet his gaze, and fought to keep her tics at bay, hating the fear, hating this thing that took her over when she was around other people. Her fingers tapped on the arm of her chair, and she tried to breathe in the way Mary Leigh had taught her—slowly, deeply. She didn’t need to be afraid of Cute Guy. Cute Guy was just here to bring her coffee and get directions and look amazing in a pair of jeans. It wasn’t the end of days. No need to panic or stock up on canned goods.
Her body didn’t get the memo, though, and she could barely get the words out. “Her office is at the other end of the hall. Last door before the big conference room. Knock first.”
But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at her computer screen, amusement dancing in his gold-green eyes. “If there’s such a thing as athlete’s foot, do you think one can…catch that in other places? I mean, maybe he should use a condom.”
She glanced at the computer. “Or a sock.”
The words had jumped out without her planning it, and his attention flicked to her, that infectious grin returning. “A sock.” He laughed. “Obviously. The only proper protection from a shoe.” He shook his head. “Why don’t I ever get spam that interesting? I just get offers from Russian models wanting to be my wife. They promise to”—he made air quotes with his free hand—“‘make me so happy in a special way.’ I’m assuming this means they make a kick-ass borscht.”
Hollyn pursed her lips at his faux Russian accent and looked down, wanting to laugh but knowing that if she did, it would come out like a parrot squawk with her muscles so tense. “Sounds like a good deal.”
“Right? I mean, the beet really is an under-appreciated root vegetable. I’m weighing all the offers carefully,” he said with mock seriousness and set the coffee on the corner of her desk, bringing the scent of his shower-fresh soap into her space. He put out his hand. “I’m Jasper, by the way.”
She stuck out her hand, knowing there was no way to avoid the handshake, and his warm, confident grip wrapped around hers, sending a zinging awareness straight up her arm and spreading through her chest. His gaze met hers and held, like he was trying to see inside her head, to read her. The connection was too intense, the eye contact impossible for her to hold. Her fingers wanted to count. She quickly released the handshake. “Thanks, for uh, bringing the coffee.”
“No problem.” He stepped back, giving her an expectant look, and