Chapter 9
A Shame To Lose Those Fingers
Tia
Tia made it four whole days. As it turned out, working with Jack Stevens was just about passable. Just about. Until he startled her at a large bank of filing cabinets and she was so shocked she slammed the drawer right on his hand.
“Holy fucking hell,” Jack cursed under his breath. He carefully undid the metal drawer and produced a few mangled fingers. Tia let out a gasp at the sight of blood.
“Oh god,” she muttered under her breath. “Oh dear god. I’m sorry! I didn’t- you scared me- I…”
Jack rolled his eyes. He held his wounded hand up to his chest. “Office hazard, I suppose. Right up there with violent paper cuts and run ins with the photocopier.”
“Let me see.” Tia reached for his hand and carefully gripped it around the wrist. She brought it down to eye level for inspection. She realized, far too late, that she was touching him and what that meant.
She’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t get within five feet of him. Sworn it, in order to keep herself safe. In order to stop replaying that night they’d had a week ago on her steps. A zing of straight energy flashed up her arm and her breathing suddenly didn’t feel right. When had her chest shrunk down to being too tight, like a shirt she’d thrown in the dryer only to find later that it was dry clean only?
Jack’s gaze slammed into hers and she quickly lowered her eyes, back to his hand. Droplets of blood formed up from the mangled skin and dripped onto the hand she held beneath. She was so distracted by the red blood, that she forgot how dangerous Jack could be. Instead she focused on not passing out herself.
“Nothing some water and a bandage won’t take care of.”
“You’re going to need more than a bandage for that! More like five. I’m sorry,” she said again. “You scared the hell out of me and I-”
“Decided to teach me a lesson?”
Her eyes swept back up to his face. He was grinning down at her, looking, far too charming. Yes, men like Jack Stevens were dangerous indeed. She dropped his hand like his was a viper ready to strike. Unless he’d already bit her. That would explain the numbness tingling up her arm.
“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I wanted to tell you how great your idea was. The entire team hasn’t been this energized, in- well- I can’t remember how long. I’ve decided to run the brochures and the posters with your design, but we’re also going to do a commercial, just something for the local channels. You should come up with a skit we can act out.”
“We?” She choked.
“Not us, us. Everyone in the department.” He winked at her, which was entirely disarming and he probably bloody well knew it. “Maybe we’ll borrow a few people from accounting too. They look like they could up and die from boredom at any given time. I wonder if they’ve taken out policies with us. Maybe we should pay them a visit.”
Flustered, Tia turned her gaze down. She remembered, with a start, that Jack’s hand needed attention. It was currently leaking droplets of blood onto the dark carpet below.
“You seriously need to get that taken care of. Are you going to file a report? I mean, as a workplace accident?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “In my life, I’ve had far worse than this.” A shadow, so fleeting that she doubted she’d even seen it, crossed his face.
“At work?” she asked stupidly.
“No.” He seemed to reconsider. “Well, you could say that. I’ve had other jobs that weren’t quite so- white collar as this.”
She couldn’t imagine Jack doing anything that wasn’t in a suit and tie. He looked too damn good in those clothes to- no. No, she couldn’t go there. She wasn’t going to imagine him in greasy coveralls as a mechanic or shirtless and sweaty working in construction or- goddamn it! She knew any profession Jack worked at, he was going to be as sexy as hell.
To try and take her mind off of what it was already dwelling on, which was Jack, shirtless, bronzed, sweaty and ready… she tried to think of him clothed. She came up with a new image entirely. A simple t-shirt, black, of course, since it seemed to suit him best. All his suits were black, even his ties. It was like he feared color or something. She imagined him with a leather jacket thrown over that t-shirt, old and faded and soft as butter. A pair of faded jeans that hugged his delicious ass- what the fuck. I can’t even keep my own thoughts from going straight to the gutter anymore? What the hell is wrong with me?
“Right.” That word sounded wrong. Mostly because her voice sounded thin and raspy. “Well- uh- your hand… do you want me to find a first aid kit? You shouldn’t bandage it on your own.”
“You don’t think I’m capable.”
“No- I, I just meant that I- it might be hard to put them on with just one hand.” Tia clamped her lips shut. She felt utterly ridiculous. Could it get any worse?
“Alright. There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen. Above the microwave.”
She stared at him open mouthed. Yes. Yes, it could get a whole hell of a lot worse. She hadn’t expected him to actually agree. She just felt horrible about what happened and was just trying to be nice. Or was I? Do I actually want to touch him? Even just his hand? The answer was, resoundingly clear, a yes.
She turned and hurried off towards the kitchen, Jack’s loud footsteps echoing behind her. Each one was as loud as her heart, slamming against her ribs, as her pulse, jumping out of her neck, as the blood zinging through her ears.
Tia threw open the cabinet, nearly nailing Jack in the face. She gasped. How did he sneak up right behind her?
“That was close.”
So was his breath. Far too close. It was warm and fragrant and tickled the nape of her neck right above the collar of her dress.
“I- sorry,” she said for the hundredth time. She reached into the cupboard and took down the small white plastic box. She opened the lid and found it woefully under stocked. “It looks like a few people were already here.”
“Makes sense. I’ll put an order in with accounting as soon as we’re done here.”
Tia produced a few plastic bandages. They looked skinny and shitty, like they wouldn’t actually be much good. “I don’t know, should I disinfect this first? That filing cabinet was metal. Isn’t metal supposed to contain all sorts of bad things? What if your jaw starts locking up?”
“I had a tetanus shot a few years back. I think I’ll survive.” Jack actually laughed.
The sound did something to her. As in… in the panties. She exhaled a breath that was half disgust at her reaction and half to try and regain her equilibrium. She was horrified to find that when she clenched her legs together to stop the ache between them, she was soaking wet.
Too bad they don’t make a first aid kit for that. Or for my damn mind either. Or hormones. She wanted to find whatever part of her was responsible for the attraction to a man like Jack Stevens and rip it out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cure for being far too damn handsome. And talented. With his tongue. Holy Hannah. Stop it already! His fingers were a close second.
Tia literally shook herself. She would have done it harder had Jack not been standing right there. He held out his hand and she nearly gagged at the mangled skin. She didn’t have a strong stomach, certainly not when it came to blood.
“I never could have been a doctor,” she said under her breath as she applied the first bandage. It didn’t stick well and she had to press harder than she thought she would. The heat of her fingers met the heat of Jack’s palm and her stomach hollowed out.
“You’re doing a good job so far.”
He watched, amused, as she set the other two bandages on. After that was done, she looked in dismay at her work. There was still mangled, raw flesh exposed and blood welled up around the edges of the bandages.
“Hold on.” She grabbed a roll of white gauze. “I’ll wrap this around everything. I probably should have done it in the first place.”
Jack shrugged casually. Even that did something to her insides. Tia realized how fucking pathetic she was. She wondered, had Friday night not happened, if she’d still be attracted to him? Of course she would, on a physical level. On any other level, she would have kept her distance. She didn’t like guys like him. Guys like him couldn’t keep their dick in their pants long enough to actually have a meaningful connection. Although… Friday night felt pretty meaningful.
She cursed herself as she wounded the bandage around his hand, starting at the top and ending near his wrist. She reached for the small pair of scissors in the kit and worked their dull edges against the gauze until she had a strip torn off. She tucked it in against the tightly woven wrapping. Her hands still burned at the contact, even when she turned and started stuffing everything back into the first aid kit. Guys like Jack Stevens were not to be trusted. They were homewreckers and heart-breakers and cheaters and everything else she despised.
Why then, as she tucked the first aid kit back into the cabinet, did thoughts about his dick, the dick she unfortunately hadn’t got to see or experience, plague her? She wondered what it would feel like, seated inside of her. If he’d be as talented with it as he was with his hands and mouth? Fuck. No, no, not fuck. Not fuck at all. I’d stay celibate for the rest of my damn life if I could stop thinking about him. It seemed like a good trade off, considering that she felt like she was going insane.
She turned to find Jack holding up his hand. His brow was cocked at such an angle, that she thought that he knew exactly what she was thinking about. Which was damn well just about the most mortifying realization of her entire life.
“Thanks.”
“Uh- thanks?”
“For the surgery. I think I’ll make it.”
She forced a watery smile and tried to pretend that she was capable of an ounce of composure. “Watch that it doesn’t turn green. I might not be a doctor, but I know that’s a bad sign.”
“I’ll watch. I don’t think it will require amputation.”
“That’s good. It would be a shame to lose those fingers.” Too late, she realized what she’d blurted out. Instead of letting herself go beet red and turning into a puddle of embarrassed mush, she flashed a cocky smirk she didn’t know she was capable of and walked right past Jack out of the kitchen.