Crossing Hathaway by Jocelyn Adams Page A

fists. “Just send out an e-mail to the whole office. Say that anyone who wants some free roses can come to the IT department. Knowing the women who work here, I guarantee there won’t be a single one left by eight thirty.” I turned and looked at the bouquet on my desk, released a sigh. Nobody had ever given me flowers before. It’d be a shame to give them all away. My voice fell low and I spoke into the floor. “They can have all but the ones on my desk.”
    Cam chuckled, stepping nearer. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “You heard me.”
    “Oh. My. God. You’re as red as a damn fire truck.” He sauntered over to stand beside me, wearing a giant grin and folded his arms over his chest. “Here I thought this was a prank, but it’s much more interesting than that, isn’t it? Someone’s trying to break the infamous ‘I don’t date’ Evangeline Ross.” More chuckling. “Looks to me as if it’s working.”
    Scowling, I pulled open the door, went out, and slammed it behind me. Cam’s laughter followed me down the hall as I went, gritting my teeth.
    Were the roses another attempt to screw me over? I stopped in front of the elevator, my mouth dropped open at the revelation.
    Bastard.
    Hathaway could send me for coffee that didn’t exist, and give me a test I wasn’t supposed to be able to pass, but screwing with me in front of my colleagues went too fucking far.
    By the time I made it to Mr. Hathaway’s floor, a red storm brewed in my head. He was so going to get a piece of my mind. A few pieces, in fact. I sped past Brent’s empty desk, whipped open the door and went into Hathaway’s office. I didn’t stop to ponder why the inner door wasn’t locked.
    Lights shone a bright swath of white down the center of the room and a hint of his cologne lingered. I inhaled, until I realized what I was doing and shook my head.
    “Mr. Hathaway?” I bellowed, my irritation ringing out like hell’s bells, fished the card out of my pocket and headed for the stairs. “Where are you?”
    A faint sound caused me to stop and listen. It sounded like music but muffled. I marched up the steps to the dim upper level and listened again. The sound came from the direction of the boardroom, but no lights shone under the closed door. I edged along the wall into growing darkness, my spine tingling harder with every step.
    A tiny strip of brightness spilled out beneath a door at the end of the hall, and the music grew in volume. I marched to the end, grasped the knob, and pushed. A large loft-style apartment spread out before me. Black leather sofas sat in a group in the living room with a glass coffee table in the middle of the huddle. A white kitchen stood to my left. “Use Somebody” by Kings of Leon, thumped from large speakers in an entertainment center to my right.
    “Mr. Hathaway?” I crept farther in. Like me, he had no pictures on the walls or anywhere else in the room. The honey-toned hardwood floor gleamed. “Hello?”
    By the time sense overruled my curiosity and told me I shouldn’t be in his apartment, Mr. Hathaway wandered into the room from a hallway beyond the kitchen. He hummed, his face buried in a fluffy white towel he used to rub the water from his wet hair. Droplets trickled down his bare skin, glistening in the overhead lights. My gaze traveled downward and my eyes grew wide. He didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
    “Oh, for the love of God, why are you naked?” At his yelp, I covered my eyes with my hand as I tried to ignore the tightening and throbbing of my nether regions.
    Fabric swished, and I hoped to hell he’d wrapped that towel around his man bits.
    “Evangeline,” he said, tightly at first but his tone relaxed. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
    Against my body’s will, I kept my eyes averted. “What happened to Mr. Hide-in-the-dark? How did you go from that to walking around butt-freakin’-naked?”
    Chuckles mingled with his manly sigh. “I tried to scare you away, but you kept