Busting Loose by Kat Murray Page B

out words, writing new ones in bold strokes. He had good handwriting, she knew. None of that illegible doctor scrawl crap she always heard jokes about. Nice and efficient, but easily read. Every minute or so, he reached up to touch his glasses between the eyes, like he was pushing them up again, even if they weren’t slipping. Habit.
    It was cute, really, how absorbed he was in his work. The animals meant everything to him, and he’d jump through fire to save one. Quite literally, she imagined.
    When he sighed, stretched his back, took his glasses off, and massaged between his eyes, she stepped in with a quick knock. “Hey.”
    He jolted, then smiled wearily. “Hey. You still here?”
    â€œOf course I am. I’ve got a few hundred flyers to fold and deliver to the newspaper so they’ll go out with the morning delivery. And I promised to help get all the supplies prepped and loaded into your truck so all you had to do was load the babies and go tomorrow, didn’t I?”
    â€œYou did.” He smiled and nodded. “Thanks for all the help, by the way.”
    â€œIt was my idea in the first place. I’m afraid my plan might have made more trouble for you than I anticipated.” She grimaced and sat on the corner of his desk, butt barely perched on the edge. When his gaze wandered down her legs and ended at the straps of her very cute Choos, she knew he was slipping out of work mode. Lucky for her. “I feel awful that you got sucked into my scheme. I don’t think this was what you had in mind when you said, ‘run with it.’ ”
    â€œIt’s a good idea,” he insisted firmly, grabbing her hand and squeezing. “A great one. All these guys need new homes, and if we can find them in one day with a big push, then fantastic. The timing was a little sooner than I anticipated, but it’s solid. And if it goes well, then a repeat performance can definitely be expected.”
    If. If it went well. That two-letter word hovered over her like a gray cloud. Was that cloud going to move on its way and threaten someone else? Or dump a load of rain on her ...
    When she looked down, she realized his hand was still holding hers. She bit back a smile. “I’m going to need that back sometime, you know.”
    â€œHuh? Oh.” He let go so fast, her hand smacked the top of the desk with a slap. “Shit, shoot, sorry.” He picked her hand back up, clinically this time, examining her wrist and fingers. “You okay?”
    â€œYes,” she said on a laugh. “I’m fine.” Without thought, her hand trailed up his arm and to his shoulders, where she rubbed. “You need to walk around and stretch out. You’ve been bent over your desk for a while now.”
    â€œIf you’re saying something, I don’t know what it is. That is magical,” he said quietly, eyes closing.
    She observed him while her hands worked on his shoulders, kneading the tension away. With his eyes closed and his glasses off, his features seemed both sharper and softer at the same time. No warm eyes watching her quietly, no sexy glint of metal, no sweet smudge of glass. A man relaxed, satisfied. This was what he would look like if she rolled over in the middle of the night and watched him sleep.
    And holy crap, where had that come from? Her hands froze, mid-squeeze, and she forced them to relax. But her knuckles were screaming from the effort. When she heard a loud banging, she sprang up. “That’s dinner.”
    â€œDinner?” One heavy eyelid slid open, and he gazed at her languidly.
    â€œI ordered delivery from Jo’s.”
    â€œThey don’t deliver.”
    â€œI know the owner,” she said with a wink, then walked out. But when she got to the front door, nobody was there. Huh. She stood for a second, then headed out through the shelter to the back door. Maybe Jo thought the front would be locked since it was after hours, or