Chapter 27
Xavier Stone was a pig.
He might not be quite as bad as Shoemoney, but he was a pig nonetheless. He didn’t even seem remotely concerned about her, only the goddamn document. He hadn’t even asked if she was ok.
He had given her access to the network, and left her at his desk, to use his computer. She could hear him in the living room, on the phone, making his calls. He seemed to be extra edgy and she sensed he was nervous about tomorrow, anyway, and she had just made things worse.
She worked hard, put her head down, and got on with it. The motivation high to prove to him that she was sorry and to do the best report she could.
Every so often he would stick his head around the door and ask her if she needed anything. And each time she would give him a curt “No, thanks,” and continue with her work.
“I’ve got some leftovers.”
She looked up. “No, thanks.”
“You must be hungry now?”
“No.” She wanted to be gone as soon as possible.
“Not even a washroom break?”
She eyed him with disgust. “No.”
He held his hands up, as if surrendering. “Just asking. You’ve hardly moved.”
“I’m rushing to get your work done.”
“Don’t rush and make a mess of it.”
“I won’t.”
“I didn’t mean that you would make a—”
“I know what you meant.” She didn’t even bother turning around, and hoped he would leave.
“Izzy.” Oh, dear god, he was still here. He perched on the side of the desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier.”
“I heard you. Can I get on with this? You’re making me lose concentration.”
His mouth started to curve into a smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
She shook her head. “What gives, Stone?” He was making crude jokes at a time like this? And after the way he had behaved earlier?
“I’m going.”
Luckily re-doing everything didn’t take as long as she feared because everything was still fresh in her mind. She’d added better charts and made the whole thing much easier to understand at a glance.
She stood up and had a big stretch, feeling the muscles in her shoulder blades loosen. She moved her neck around slowly, easing out the tight knots that had formed. It was something she tried to remember to do because sometimes, as was the case now, when she sat down and concentrated too hard, she forgot that she held her breath, and often stayed in the same rigid pose for too long.
“Done?”
She jumped, as Xavier’s voice startled her from behind.
“All done. Here, take a look.” She bent over to pull up the report.
“Could you print it off?” He nodded at the printer.
“Sure.” At least that way he wouldn’t need to look over her shoulder. He walked away, leaving her to print it off. When she walked out into the living area, he was lying on the couch, with his legs up, and a TV remote in one hand. An easy life for some people.
“Here.” She held it out to him, and he sat up, paused the TV, and looked it over, flicking through the pages, and making appreciative noises in his throat.
“Hey,” he said, finally looking up at her. “This is impressive. You’ve done an amazing job.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, but was glad he liked it. All she wanted was to go home, and she was getting antsy to leave.
“What’s this?” He stared at one of the charts she’d created. When she didn’t sit down on the couch to see, he stood up and pointed his finger at the chart. “This seems unnecessary.”
“I can take it out if you want. I figured it showed your data off better than being in tabular form.”
He nodded in agreement. “It does look better,” he murmured, then turned a few more of the pages. “Would you—” he seemed to hesitate. “Would you mind doing that with the other tables? You’re right. It does look so much better.”
She had been thinking of it, but had only done the one. Now she wished she’d hadn’t done it at all.
“Or you can show me how to do it,” he offered, as if he had sensed her reluctance.
“I can do it.”
“It would help.”
“I said I’d do it.”
“Then don’t look so pissed about it.”
“I’m not pissed,” she retorted.
“Then at least smile, to prove it.”
But a smile, for him, wasn’t going to happen easily. She managed a forced grimace before turning around to leave.
“You don’t have to rush to do it now.”
“You need it for tomorrow.”
“Just chill for a while. You’ve been working solidly for the past few hours.”
“I don’t see that I had any choice, and I’d like to go home as soon as I’ve finished.”
“At least sit down and take a break for a while.”
“And talk to you?”
“You could do worse.”
Before she tried to get her head around the words, before she tried to figure out if it was innuendo, or a flirtatious response—the only types of response Xavier seemed capable of giving—he said, “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know what it is, Laronde, but you make me say things I don’t mean.”
“There’s no point in using your pick up lines on me, Stone. They don’t work.”
“Who said I was using a pick-up line?”
Their gazes locked.
The way his eyes were pinned on her, soft, and searching, she couldn’t make out if he was being serious, or silly.
But she knew that she couldn’t stand here gawking at him all day, especially with the way her stomach suddenly felt all light and airy. “I’ll get this done,” she said, stepping away, hastily.
“Suit yourself.”
“And get the hell out of here,” she mumbled under her breath.
“We can get dinner later!” He shouted after her.
“No we won’t.” She shouted over her shoulder before storming into his office. She stopped cold when she saw his screensaver. Her mouth fell open. It was the picture of a woman in a bikini lying over a car that looked very much like his Ferrari. Her hand froze momentarily as she seized the mouse.
This was his screensaver?
The woman was soaked, her hair hanging around her shoulders, perched on the edge of his hood, and sitting forward, her nipples erect and staring right at her.
Gross.
She slammed the keyboard in anger. “Can you unlock your screen for me!” she shouted.
Her nostrils flared as she waited, and when, five seconds later he didn’t come running in, she stormed away and rushed smack bang into him.
“Ouch!” A sharp pain tasered through her lower lip.
“Whoa,” he said. His thumb on the side of her lips, his eyes all worried-looking. She caught a whiff of his cologne first, before the undercurrents of his chest close to hers, erupted. “Sorry.”
She backed away, feeling her lip with her tongue.
“Your lip’s bleeding.”
She licked it again, the taste of blood on her tongue salty. He reached for a Kleenex and gave her one.
“You okay? Here, let me take a look.”
“I’m okay. It’s just a little nip.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to spring out like that.
She ignored his apology and held the Kleenex to her lip, dabbing at the blood, and she could feel, now when she licked her tongue, how quickly her lip was swelling up.
“I need the password.”
“Right.” He turned around and she could have sworn that he visibly flinched when he saw the screen. “I should get that picture changed.”
She’d meant to keep quiet, but a noise, a derisive snort escaped from her lips.
“Sorry about that.” His voice was soft. He moved away from the desk, but she waited until he had cleared a good few yards, before she sat down.
“You can go now,” she told him, when he still stood there, unmoving.
He disappeared, and she got on with her work but a few moments later, he was back, and this time he had an ice-cube wrapped up a dishcloth. “This might help take the swelling down.”
She reached for it, and a small ‘thanks’, may or may not have fallen from her lips.