who’s not on assignment to go in and replace it. It’s a real inconvenience but it happens all the time.”
“People squoosh the bugs?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Reese said, then, “oh, you haven’t seen them?”
“I haven’t seen much,” I told her. “I’m about 24 hours into this whole thing.”
“Be right back,” she said and dashed out a different door than the one we entered through. I waited, and I caught several people assessing me. They were obvious but I gave them credit for at least trying to be polite about it by glancing up and down and up again, or smiling.
“We got one!” a man shouted. He put his hand up, and I spotted him two desks away from the door. I edged closer as a woman briskly acknowledged him and joined him at his station. Heads close together, they examined his holographic screen, tapped a few invisible air keys, and a signal screamed out of a speaker. I plugged one ear with my finger. The man pointed to the screen. “Target. Who’s on tonight?”
“Give it to Nilsen,” his supervisor—I guessed—told him, and he nodded. While she made a note on a wall chart, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and awkwardly text-messaged with his thumbs, squinting at the much smaller screen.
“Hold out your hand,” I heard, and almost jumped. I swirled and there was Reese. She raised her brows. “Go on.”
I did, and she placed something small in my palm. Something small with legs. Many legs. It moved.
I yanked my hand away with a shriek. Yes, a shriek. It didn’t often happen that I shrieked, but spiders had a way of bringing out the girl in me.
“What the …“ I yelled, and took two steps back, colliding into a tall, broad someone.
I felt hands take hold of my upper arms. The whisper was like a sweep of silk across my ear. “I can never resist the call of a damsel in distress.”
Ire—and not the warm breath on my neck—made my hair stand on end, the spider momentarily forgotten. Damsel in distress? Someone was about to take a walk on the wild side of me. I set my jaw and turned.
My knees buckled slightly and my balance suffered.
Lamppost guy. The well-built, painfully sexy blond man whom I’d really wanted to forget about. From this short distance, new details hit me: his black, silver-ringed irises; his fresh, warm scent; his flop of naughty hair that hid one cheekbone; his long pale eyelashes.
I longed to feel those lashes brush against my neck, fall into the dark velvet of his gaze, inhale his skin until his scent came out my own pores –
A whoosh filled my ears and I couldn’t hear much. I took a step closer. Just to touch him, just once…
“Knock it off,” I heard, and I tried to shake off the intrusion as I reached out my hand.
But I heard it again. “Svein, I said knock it off. Leave her alone .”
In an instant, something like a light in me snapped on. The blur was gone, like someone had swiped my lenses clean with a dishrag, and my thoughts were my own again. I lowered my hand. The man remained standing before me, but suddenly he was just an incredible-looking man who had called me a damsel.
“What’s the matter with you?” Reese demanded, and I realized she was the one who had cut into my embarrassing reverie. She walked right up to him and jabbed a finger hard into his solar plexus. “Don’t you know who she is?”
Despite the determined little fae getting into his personal space, his eyes never left mine. But now that I had returned to my logical self, I met his even gaze with one of my own. I crossed my arms and arched a brow.
He wore a black T-shirt which stretched enticingly over a rock-solid chest, and a pair of jeans that probably stretched enticingly over places I absolutely would not look at.
“Yeah, I know who she is,” he drawled impressively for a man who didn’t have a Southern accent. And when he arched a brow back at me, it became clear that he’d also known who I was yesterday afternoon, from across a busy street.
“People squoosh the bugs?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Reese said, then, “oh, you haven’t seen them?”
“I haven’t seen much,” I told her. “I’m about 24 hours into this whole thing.”
“Be right back,” she said and dashed out a different door than the one we entered through. I waited, and I caught several people assessing me. They were obvious but I gave them credit for at least trying to be polite about it by glancing up and down and up again, or smiling.
“We got one!” a man shouted. He put his hand up, and I spotted him two desks away from the door. I edged closer as a woman briskly acknowledged him and joined him at his station. Heads close together, they examined his holographic screen, tapped a few invisible air keys, and a signal screamed out of a speaker. I plugged one ear with my finger. The man pointed to the screen. “Target. Who’s on tonight?”
“Give it to Nilsen,” his supervisor—I guessed—told him, and he nodded. While she made a note on a wall chart, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and awkwardly text-messaged with his thumbs, squinting at the much smaller screen.
“Hold out your hand,” I heard, and almost jumped. I swirled and there was Reese. She raised her brows. “Go on.”
I did, and she placed something small in my palm. Something small with legs. Many legs. It moved.
I yanked my hand away with a shriek. Yes, a shriek. It didn’t often happen that I shrieked, but spiders had a way of bringing out the girl in me.
“What the …“ I yelled, and took two steps back, colliding into a tall, broad someone.
I felt hands take hold of my upper arms. The whisper was like a sweep of silk across my ear. “I can never resist the call of a damsel in distress.”
Ire—and not the warm breath on my neck—made my hair stand on end, the spider momentarily forgotten. Damsel in distress? Someone was about to take a walk on the wild side of me. I set my jaw and turned.
My knees buckled slightly and my balance suffered.
Lamppost guy. The well-built, painfully sexy blond man whom I’d really wanted to forget about. From this short distance, new details hit me: his black, silver-ringed irises; his fresh, warm scent; his flop of naughty hair that hid one cheekbone; his long pale eyelashes.
I longed to feel those lashes brush against my neck, fall into the dark velvet of his gaze, inhale his skin until his scent came out my own pores –
A whoosh filled my ears and I couldn’t hear much. I took a step closer. Just to touch him, just once…
“Knock it off,” I heard, and I tried to shake off the intrusion as I reached out my hand.
But I heard it again. “Svein, I said knock it off. Leave her alone .”
In an instant, something like a light in me snapped on. The blur was gone, like someone had swiped my lenses clean with a dishrag, and my thoughts were my own again. I lowered my hand. The man remained standing before me, but suddenly he was just an incredible-looking man who had called me a damsel.
“What’s the matter with you?” Reese demanded, and I realized she was the one who had cut into my embarrassing reverie. She walked right up to him and jabbed a finger hard into his solar plexus. “Don’t you know who she is?”
Despite the determined little fae getting into his personal space, his eyes never left mine. But now that I had returned to my logical self, I met his even gaze with one of my own. I crossed my arms and arched a brow.
He wore a black T-shirt which stretched enticingly over a rock-solid chest, and a pair of jeans that probably stretched enticingly over places I absolutely would not look at.
“Yeah, I know who she is,” he drawled impressively for a man who didn’t have a Southern accent. And when he arched a brow back at me, it became clear that he’d also known who I was yesterday afternoon, from across a busy street.
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