Page 34 of In This Moment

Two hundred emails. As she stared, the number climbed.

“Jeez. I wonder how many are sitting in my inbox. I haven’t had a free moment to look.” Best she’d done was boot up her computer when she’d gotten to the office.

“Since you set it up for certain subject matters on who gets emailed for what, I’m betting yours is just as whack.”

“Probably.” This was a really, really good sign that the townsfolk were interested in the Gazette again. Or still. “Can you pull up the web domain? Let’s see how subscriber statistics are panning.”

His large, deft fingers danced over the keyboard, and she did her level best to look at the screen instead.

He grunted. “Not sure what I’m looking for or where to go.”

“May I?” She pointed to his mouse and keyboard.

A shrug, and he waved as if to say have at it.

She showed him the various tabs on how to get to the newsletter and lists. “Holy crap.”

Narrowing his gaze, he leaned forward. “That can’t be right. We had a little less than three hundred subscribers yesterday.”

“For print. We’re up to almost six hundred now.” And it was only noon. Hopefully, that would hike. Word of mouth in Vallantine went a long way. Small town and all. “E-print subscribers are trickling in, too. These are new as of today. Remember, we had zero because we’d not had an electronic edition.”

“Almost up to one hundred.” He shook his head as if in awe. “That’s not accounting for the sidewalk boxes, either.”

His low chuckle filled the room, and he swiveled in his chair to face her. A glance in her direction, and his laugh gained momentum until he grabbed his side and bent over.

Unsure what was so hilarious, she stared at his thick black hair, curled slightly at the ends, mere inches from her lap, and she wanted to thread her fingers through the strands. Just once, to see if they were as soft as they looked. See if he would encourage more or politely ease out of her grasp. If he enjoyed the contact or preferred different forms of touch.

They’d flirted up to this point. Had there been anything more from his standpoint? She’d never been a great judge when it came to the opposite sex. Put her in a room full of people, and she could figure things out. Based on body language, facial expressions, or demeanor, she could read said room. It was a gift and skill she’d learned. Yet, when it involved someone she was interested in, or the flip side, that ability took a backseat. In most aspects of her life, she took charge. Dominated. Conquered. At least, when it came to things she could control. Relationships, though? She’d followed their lead.

Frankly, she’d just not been very good at…dating. Proven by her longest relationship lasting a mere year.

Attraction was one thing, but she was inching past interest and speeding toward lust with Graham. Not a first, except way more intense than anything she’d experienced to date. She wanted to know him. In a biblical sense. It had seemingly come out of nowhere and had grabbed her by the trachea.

“Mercy, Rebecca.” He raised his head, and the distance between them shrank. Golden flecks were immersed in his emerald irises, unnoticeable if they hadn’t been in each other’s orbit. Warm hands framed her face. “You saved the paper.”

She…what?

He gave her a little shake. “No telling how long it’ll last, but you saved the Gazette.”

A denial was on the tip of her tongue, that they’d worked together to fix the newspaper, but he brought her to him. Or he’d moved even closer. Something. What little thought remained in her head vanished. Millimeters. That was the meager space between his lips and hers. Millimeters. They were sharing air, and she got dizzy from the rush.

“Shit.” His gorgeous, mesmerizing eyes widened. Up went his hands, and he straightened. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. I’m your boss. We work together. I’m sincerely sorry.”

Somehow, she’d grown short of breath without moving a muscle. He looked genuinely horrified and contrite. Eyes round and beseeching. Lips rolled over his teeth. Meanwhile, her heart was just trying to resuscitate.

Silence, heady silence ensued, until she muttered the first thing that came to mind. “I’m not.”

A speculative glare. “Not what?”

“Sorry.” Not sorry he’d touched her or that he’d almost kissed her. But because he hadn’t been wrong, they did work together and he was her superior, she scooted her chair back and rose. Rejection lanced her belly. “I’m going to work on my end for Monday’s edition while it’s quiet.”

At a snail’s pace, he lowered his arms and gripped the chair like he was trying to refrain from moving. His gaze darted back and forth between hers, imploring, studying. Eventually, he nodded, though the wrench of his brows indicated his confusion remained.

He could join the club.

Resetting her chair on the other side of his desk, she went to her own. Twain followed, resting his chin on her leg while she got her PC out of sleep mode. Smiling, she absently petted the sweet dog. And nearly fell out of her chair.

One hundred and five emails. She would’ve swallowed her tongue if it were anatomically possible.

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