Page 17 of That Secret Something

“Where the hell have you been?” I hissed, smacking her lightly on the arm.

“Is Lily mad?”

“You bet.”

“Dammit. I’d better give her time to cool down a little. But it’ll be worth it.” She glanced behind her. “Come on.” She pulled me away from the screaming crowd.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “You should’ve met with us hours ago, and Lily…she’s been so…” My pulse pounded in my ears, the stress of the day expanding inside my skull. My eyes itched, my contact lenses dry from the hot air in the room.

Rebecca led me into the hallway and let go of my arm. She pulled a hand through her long hair, letting it fall behind her shoulders. It took me a moment to notice the navy corduroy suit she was wearing. Why is she so dressed up? I gulped and looked down at her expensive brown brogues.

“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.

She grasped the folds of her suit and posed, forming her lips in a pout. “Why? Do you like it?”

Like wouldn’t be the most accurate word. I liked oranges.

That suit, on the other hand, would look even more spectacular if she were wearing nothing else under it. The anger and stress I’d been feeling slowly seeped away, replaced instead with that low ache in my abdomen.

“It’s alright,” I said. “But quite fancy. Even for this place.”

Rebecca’s attention drifted over my outfit again: a cute navy playsuit that cost half-a-month’s worth of rent. It was my trusty go-to…for pretty much everything. I had to get my money’s worth, after all.

“You look quite alright yourself,” she murmured.

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t expected her to be so forward, or to look like that. It dawned on me that this was the first time we’d been alone together without Lily’s presence since that night in the bathroom four years ago. What exactly was she playing at?

I took a slight step back. Distance was good. More space to think without her scent clouding my brainwaves. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where’ve you been?”

She blew out a breath. “Okay, I had an interview. But please don’t say anything to Lily.”

“What? Why not?”

A collection of screams drew our attention back to the hall, where a stampede of women headed in our direction.

“Bloody hell!”

A woman was pushed to the ground as the crowd hurtled towards us. Rebecca grabbed my wrist and tugged me through the nearest door, ushering me inside.

The door slammed behind us, and we were engulfed in darkness. The screams from outside grew louder and moved down the hall, but it was my other senses that were heightened. The feel of Rebecca’s hand on my waist, my hand on her chest. Her sweet cherry scent mixed with mint. The blurred outline of her features. Even in the low light, I swear I could see her smirk. Time felt suspended, its passing marked only by her soft breaths tickling my face.

She flicked a switch, and a warm glow illuminated the space. A cluster of brooms and mops stood in a corner. Boxes stuffed with various cleaning supplies lined the shelves along the back wall. But the thing that stole my focus was Rebecca’s arm beside my face, her palm flat against the wall. Her close proximity was even more dangerous in the soft, warm light. I turned to her; her face so close I could see the tiniest of freckles above her lips.

She moved her arm slowly and rested it by her side. A grin pulled at her mouth as she glanced down at my palm, still resting against her chest. I snapped out of my trance and took a step backwards, but there was nothing there but the wall. My head banged against the masonry with a crack, and I stumbled forward again, pushing Rebecca into the pile of brooms. They clattered around us as we tried to manoeuvre ourselves, our bodies an entangled mess on the floor.

Mortified, I pulled myself up using the wooden shelf and brushed myself off. My mind spun—whether from the knock on the head or from feeling all of Rebecca’s body pressed against mine, I wasn’t sure.

“You okay there, Grant?” Rebecca asked, rebalancing a broom against the wall. She turned to me. Her face filled with mischief, a laugh teasing the back of her throat.

“I’m sorry, I…erm, slipped…and—”

Her hand brushed against the back of my head. “You hurt yourself?” Concern laced her features, pulling her brows together in a way that was so sexy, it should be a crime. I wanted to reach out and trace the crinkled line etched into her forehead. Her jaw. Close the space between us and push myself against her again. Shame there were all these damn clothes in the way.

I swallowed. The heat from her fingers flowed into my core—and other areas. I managed to shake my head slightly, but her hand was still pressed against my head. She moved it lower, resting at the base of my neck.

“You sure?” she asked.

My head was spinning, and I was throbbing in multiple places, but I muttered, “Sure. Thank you.”

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