Chapter One
“Where are you off to?”
Lauren winced. So much for a clean getaway. “I just need...um, office supplies. From the...” Rather than finish, she waved her hand vaguely at the elevator.
From the disdainful curl of her lip, Stacy clearly wasn’t buying it. “You’re going to see him again, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” Lauren lied, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m just going to get highlighters.”
“They’re in the supply closet,” Stacy said. “The one on this floor.”
Shaking her head, Lauren began backing toward the elevator. “The supply closet’s out,” she explained, not quite able to meet Stacy’s eyes. “I have to go down to storage.” It wasn’t an actual lie, since she’d taken the two remaining boxes from the supply closet and put them in her drawer. Lauren now had enough highlighters to last thirty years.
“You’re pathetic. I mean, really? Mail boy? He’s so—” Stacy shuddered “—icky.”
Although defensive words surged into her throat, Lauren just clamped her molars together and forced out a noncommittal sound. Stacy opened her mouth again, but Lauren turned and made a dash for the elevator before her coworker could speak.
Once the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, Lauren checked her reflection in one of the mirrored walls. She fussed with her hair, even as she knew the dark, heavy strands would do as they pleased, which was to fall, straight as a board, down to her shoulder blades. Earlier that morning, she’d actually been tempted to try some makeup on her usually naked face, but she’d known that Stacy would immediately notice and pounce, subjecting Lauren to endless monologues on how she could do so much better than the weird mail guy.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she really needed makeup. Her skin was clear, her lashes dark, and right now there was plenty of color in her cheeks, thanks to her accelerated heartbeat. She licked her lips and immediately felt silly. In a way, Stacy was right. This little crush of Lauren’s didn’t make much sense.
Despite that fact, her stomach gave a hop of excitement as the elevator doors opened to reveal the basement hallway. She swallowed as she stepped out of the elevator and turned left. Forcing herself to pass the mail-room door, she headed to storage first and grabbed two boxes of highlighters before she forgot. If she reappeared on the eighth floor without the pens, Stacy would never let her forget it.
Returning to the mail-room door, she hesitated. On her previous mail-guy-hunting trips, she hadn’t gotten any closer than peeking at the man through the window in the door. Today, though, she shifted both boxes to her left arm so she could knock before turning the handle and pushing the door open. As she stepped into the room, her nerves kicked into overdrive.
There he was—the object of her inexplicable crush.
He didn’t turn as Lauren studied his profile. Instead, he kept his head bent and continued to sort the mail. His hair was long and untidy, as was his beard. Both were black—not the close-to-black of hers, which sparked red and brown in the sun, but a deep, true blue-black.
It was hard to tell what kind of body he was hiding under the slouchy layers of clothes he wore, but it was obvious that he was a big guy. Despite the camouflage, Lauren was pretty sure he was in good shape. Just watching him move as he made his daily mail delivery on her floor proved that. His movements were smooth, even graceful, surprisingly so for such a large man.
She cleared her throat. “So, um...hi.” Lauren winced. Okay, this is a little awkward. She hadn’t really planned anything beyond the walking-into-the-mail-room stage.
He didn’t look up, didn’t even hesitate as he sorted the mail.
Lauren bit her bottom lip and forced herself to take another step forward. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but...” She stopped, not sure how to finish that sentence. But I think you’re really hot for some strange, beard-loving reason? She shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts from ricocheting around in her brain. Focus.
“Problem?” he grunted, still not looking up from his work.
Yeah. I’m attracted to a mail troll. “Ah...no. I was down here for, um, highlighters—” she waved a box and immediately felt like an idiot, even though he wasn’t looking at her “—and thought I’d, well, introduce myself.”
He looked at her, just a bare glance, but Lauren jumped slightly. That was why she was lurking in the basement with a taciturn, hairy man. His eyes were gorgeous—dark and narrow and rimmed with ridiculously long lashes. When they focused on her, even though it was for just a fraction of a second, she felt the impact like a physical shove.
The eye contact, as brief as it was, gave Lauren courage. “I see you every day, but I hardly ever get any mail, so I’ve never had a chance to actually meet you. I’m Lauren Hayes.” Mustering up the last dregs of her nerve, she took the four steps necessary to bring him into reach and extended her hand.
He sighed silently. She saw the lift and fall of his shoulders. Lauren’s hand quivered in midair, alone and unshaken. Biting the edge of her lip again, she wondered how long she should leave it hanging there before letting it drop to her side and slinking out of the mail room, completely and utterly rejected.
When he closed his hand around hers, Lauren was so relieved she gasped. Embarrassed by the sound, she tried to turn it into a question. “So what’s your name?”
Instead of shaking her hand, he just held it silently for a long moment, studying her intently. Those eyes were going to make her start hyperventilating for sure.
“Calvin,” he finally said, releasing her hand and letting it fall, tingling, back to her side.
“Calvin!” she repeated, too loudly, flustered by the oddness of the meeting and the intensity of her reaction to this strange man. “Good to meet you.”
With a grunt, he turned back to the mail in front of him.
“So I’ll be seeing you around, then.” She took a hesitant step back toward the door. As unnerving as this experience was, Lauren really didn’t want it to end.
He gave another grunt.
“Goodbye.” With a final glance at this hulking, unkempt, oddly fascinating man, she left the mail room.
* * *
“Fuck.”
The muttered word echoed around the room as Calvin stared at the closed door. What the hell was that? He shook his head and turned his unseeing gaze back to the carton of mail in front of him. Why had Lauren Hayes wandered down to the bowels of the TechnoCorp building just to introduce herself?
He snorted. As if he didn’t already know who she was. Every day, just after three o’clock in the afternoon, he passed by her desk on his way to deliver mail to the tight-lipped blonde next to her. Cal tried to keep his head down when he was making his rounds. It was important to stay unnoticed, stay anonymous, stay safe.
When he passed Lauren, though, he was always tempted to glance up, to see the dimples pressed into her cheeks when she smiled at him, to check whether her eyes looked gray or blue that day. Most of the time he could resist, although there was no way to avoid her scent, sweet and warm, with the slightest edge of interest. The smell of her filled his head and heated his blood, gave him ideas he shouldn’t be having—not if he wanted to stay under the radar.
If she was coming down to visit him in the mail room, though...
Cal blew out a hard breath. How was he supposed to resist her now?
* * *
Today it was printer paper, which was too bad, because a case of the stuff was really freaking heavy. Letting the box thump to the floor next to the mail room, Lauren blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“Make it staples next time, dummy,” she muttered to herself as she straightened. “Or paper clips. Something small at least.”
Turning to the door, she knocked and then walked in, not allowing herself to hesitate. She was just being...well, not really neighborly. Coworker-ly?
“Hey, Calvin,” she greeted, getting a sideways glance and grunt in return. “How are things in the mail room?”
His shoulders lifted and fell in that soundless sigh thing he’d done the other day. Lauren wondered if she was being a pest and then shoved the worry out of her head. Once she let herself fret about that, she’d never get a coherent sentence out again. If she was irritating him, there was nothing she could do except not stay long enough to become really annoying.
“Mind if I hang out down here for a couple minutes?” she asked, boosting herself up to sit on the table next to the carton of mail Calvin was sorting. “Stacy’s on a rampage up there.”
Lauren was pretty sure his next grunt had a questioning lilt.
“Stacy’s desk is next to mine,” she answered his unasked query, not daring to allow an awkward silence to fall and totally strip her of her nerve. “She’s not really my boss but thinks she is.”
“I know who she is,” Cal told the mail carton. “The angry blonde.”
Lauren laughed. “Exactly. She’s especially angry today, so I’m making a strategic retreat.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up—at least she thought it did. It was a little hard to tell in all that beard hair. “You’re hiding.”
“Exactly.” Lauren laughed again, relieved that Calvin was actually talking to her now. She swung her legs, watching his hands as he sorted. “You’re really good at that.”
“Practice,” he grunted. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “So what pissed her off?”
“Who knows what it is this time.” Letting out a resigned sigh, Lauren shrugged. “Some bug crawled up her ass and died, I suppose.” As soon as the words were out, she closed her eyes in horror. You’re a class act all the way, Laurie-Girl.
The muffled sound he made could’ve been a laugh or a snort. Either way, it sounded amused, so Lauren risked a peek at him.
“Sorry,” she said, still abashed. “Sometimes my brain is on a few seconds’ time delay while my mouth is on real time. It’s a problem.”
Calvin actually turned his head to look at her. “No problem,” he said, but she was caught by those eyes again and barely heard the words.
Tearing her gaze away, Lauren stared at the floor, her heart thundering. Clearing her throat, she said huskily, “I should probably get back...um, you know, upstairs.”
When she risked a glance at him, she saw he’d already returned to sorting, apparently unmoved by the same eye contact that had almost melted her into the table. With a sigh, she hopped down. Not only did she have a crush on a hairy-faced mail guy—she had a one-sided crush on a hairy-faced mail guy. Nice.
“Have a good day, Calvin,” she told him, heading toward the door.
“You too,” he grunted, just as she stepped into the hallway. Surprised he’d responded, Lauren caught the edge of the door before it could swing shut and looked at him. His impassive profile gave nothing away as he sorted, apparently oblivious to her watching eyes. With a shrug, she let the door swing shut behind her.
* * *
The following Tuesday, when she walked in, Calvin actually looked up and met her eyes. This caused Lauren’s feet to stop working, and she froze in place, the small paper plate in her hands suddenly wobbly.
“Um...hi.” She broke through her paralysis to smile at him, although she feared it was as unsteady as her hands.
“No supplies this time?” he asked. Lauren was fairly sure there was a smirk under his facial hair.
“Nope,” she said, carrying the paper plate over to the table and setting it next to his carton of mail. “It’s Carol’s birthday today, and I wanted to make sure you got a piece of cake. If you waited until your usual mail-delivery time, those sugar addicts in the office would’ve finished it off long before you arrived.”
Staring at the square piece of cake, Calvin was quiet for a long moment. “Thank you,” he finally said.
“Sure.” She perched on the edge of the table next to the cake. “It’s good. Vanilla’s not normally my favorite but this was pretty tasty.”
He made a noncommittal sound, still looking at the slice.
“Go ahead and eat it, if you want,” she encouraged him. “It won’t bother me. I had my piece.”
Slowly picking up the plastic fork Lauren had balanced on the plate, he cut off a corner and scooped it up with the fork.
“It wasn’t the cheeriest of birthday celebrations,” she told him, watching the bite of cake disappear into his mouth. She swallowed. There was something oddly arousing about watching Calvin eat. Forcing her gaze away from his face, she determinedly stared at the floor. “Carol wasn’t that excited about turning fifty.”
His grunt was muffled by cake but Lauren interpreted the sound as encouraging.
“When we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her, she burst into tears and ran into the women’s bathroom. It took me twenty minutes to talk her down.”
He choked a little.
Eyeing his face with concern, Lauren asked, “Inhale a crumb?”
After swallowing, he told her, “I’m fine.”
“Good.” She watched him eat another bite. It was probably rude to stare at him like this, but Calvin didn’t seem to care, and she couldn’t seem to stop. “The frosting’s my favorite. I eat all the cake and leave the frosting for last. I eat it straight. Total sugar rush.” Lauren grinned at him, and his fork stilled on its way back to the plate.
Instead of eating the final bite, he scooped the small square of remaining frosting onto the fork and held it to her lips. “Here.”
“Oh!” Her gaze flew to his in surprise, and she was immediately caught. “You don’t have to...”
Leaning closer, he said in his smoky-rough voice, “Go ahead. Eat it.”
Her lips opened before she made the conscious decision to accept the bite of frosting and closed again around the fork. He gently pulled the plastic utensil free of her mouth, leaving the sweet frosting melting on her tongue.
“Is it good?” he asked huskily.
She nodded, even though she had no idea if it was good or not, since all her senses were taken up with Calvin.
“Can I taste?”
Instantly, Lauren’s heartbeat took off at a gallop, and she was barely able to tilt her head in another nod. Her gaze was fixed on his, those mesmerizing eyes lit with heat as he moved in, closer and closer, until his mouth touched against hers.
The shock of contact made her gasp. He took full advantage of her parted lips, his tongue entering to taste the dissolving bit of frosting.
To her intense disappointment, Calvin pulled back. “Sweet,” he murmured, before diving in again.
This time, there was no pretense that he was just after the frosting. He took over her mouth, his lips and tongue hungry for something besides cake. One of his hands cupped the back of her skull, pulling her firmly into the kiss, while his other palm rested on her thigh, the heat of him burning through the heavy wool of her skirt.
Sliding his fingers down her thigh, he nudged her leg over so he could step between her knees. The closer he came, the farther her thighs were forced open and the higher her skirt climbed toward her hips. He nipped at her lips and invaded her mouth with his tongue, the hand behind her head not allowing any escape, even if she’d wanted one.
Lauren didn’t want to get away. She wanted more. It was better than she’d imagined—hotter, wilder, more intense—and if he’d shoved her down on the table and fucked her right there in the mail room, she wouldn’t have protested.
The thought startled her, made her jerk back, breaking the kiss. Despite his hold, he released her easily. They both stared at each other, panting.
“Sorry,” she gasped, not sure if she was apologizing for kissing him back or pulling away. “I didn’t mean...”
He gave a short nod and stepped back, still watching her carefully.
“I should probably...um—” she gestured at the ceiling “—get back to...well, that.”
Calvin didn’t even nod this time.
“Thank you for the frosting,” she said as she slid off the table onto her suddenly shaky legs. Immediately, she felt her face heat with a flush. “That was a stupid thing to say. Yeah. So I’m going to leave now, go back to my desk, and dwell on the fact that I sounded like a total idiot.”
This time, his smile actually showed despite his beard. “You’re fine,” he assured her, his tone implying all sorts of things that made her blush again, although for a different reason this time.
“Thanks.” Lauren smiled back. “I’ll see you...ah, later then.”
He remained silent until she reached the door. “Lauren.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for the cake.”
Blushing once again, she decided to take that as a thank-you for the piece of cake on the plate and not for the taste of frosting in her mouth.
“You’re welcome,” she said and slipped through the door.
* * *
“Dumbass,” Calvin said under his breath. “Motherfucking dumb piece of monkey shit. What am I doing? This is a hell of a good way to ruin her life.”
She’d just felt so damn good. Soft and quivering with excitement, her usual slight scent of interest intensified to full-on arousal...
He groaned. He really needed to quit thinking with his dick.
Even as the thought entered his brain, Calvin knew it was bullshit. Sure, she turned him on like crazy, but that wasn’t the only issue. She was smart and funny and so sweet, and he was pretty sure he was beginning to actually like the woman.
And that was a disaster just waiting to happen.