The Healing Touch - Apryl Baker Page 0,27
cool. Don’t let him know how he affects you. “I told you earlier how many pre-orders you had. I took a stab at guessing how many you might need. What you don’t sell, you can pack up and use at the next event. Less for me to have to order.”
“When is the next event?” He leaned farther over her, his very naked chest resting against her back.
Dear God in Heaven, give her strength. “Two weeks. Austin, Texas.” The words were clipped, angrier than she meant them to be, but hell’s bells, did he have to be so close? She couldn’t move. He’d trapped her between the desk and himself.
“You sure you’re okay, Becca?”
“I said I was fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re trembling, and you’re breathing so hard, you might have just jogged up five flights of stairs?”
She closed her eyes. Damn him.
“Don’t, Dimitri. I am not one of your flavors of the week.”
“I know that, Rebecca.” He turned serious. “Trust me, I know.”
“Then why are you doing this?” The confusion bled out in her words. “Just stop it, please.”
He moved away, and she caught sight of his pained expression out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”
“Learn some control. You’re a grown man, not a three-year-old throwing a fit in Target because your mom wouldn’t let you have the toy you wanted. I’m not a toy.”
“That’s about what I feel like right now.” He let out a low chuckle. “I want what I can’t have.”
She turned to face him, her own ire slowly rising. “Deal with it, D. We have a lot of damn work to do because of the idiots who packed this mess. I don’t have time for your nonsense.” She picked up the paper swag and a silver Sharpie and thrust them at him. “Here. Start signing these.”
“All of them?” He looked from the boxes to her, appalled.
“Yes, all of them.” She took her handy box opener she’d brought along and started to open another box. “I have to sort all these books before I can even start trying to get the pre-orders together.”
“Was there any place open this late that delivered?” He took out the first stack of postcards and started signing. Shit, this was going to take all damn night. He needed to do something less mundane to get his mind off the woman whose ass was prominently on display. She’d put on another one of those long t-shirt things, and every time she bent, he caught a glimpse of baby blue lace.
“I convinced the guy at Pat’s Pizza to take the order. Had to order four to get him to do it, though. They don’t deliver small orders at this time of night.”
“That’s fine. What we don’t eat, we’ll put in the fridge for later.” He’d probably scarf two by himself. Blue lace flashed in his field of vision, and he groaned. “Becca?”
“What?” She was pulling books out of the box she was currently working on.
“Put on some damn pants.”
She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes suddenly twinkling. “Only if you put on a damn shirt.”
Well, now. Maybe he did affect her as much as she did him. He laughed and shook his head, getting up to grab a shirt out of his suitcase. He pulled on a plain white t-shirt and saw Rebecca jumping into some kind of knee-length pajama bottoms. At least they covered her damn ass.
“Better?” she asked once he’d settled himself back on the bed.
He nodded and picked up the Sharpie. “Where did we get a silver Sharpie? Do you just carry them around in your purse or something?”
“Nope.” She sat on the floor this time, facing him. Thank God. If he had to be subjected to her ass one more time, he’d have done something stupid. “I ordered a bunch of Sharpies and had them shipped here. You don’t think I’d send you into the gladiator’s arena without the proper weapons, do you?”
“It can’t be that bad.”
She snorted. “Oh, but it can. You didn’t do your research like I told you to. These things are huge affairs, readers fighting to get to their favorite authors by the droves. Lines out the whazoo for some authors. I’m expecting a line for you. I even coordinated with Sheila to make sure your lines wouldn’t hamper the other authors there. Nothing like pissing off someone because your lines blocked their tables.”
Fair enough. He’d be pissed if that happened to him. She stuttered her