Page 18 of Latte Girl
We arrive at the floor the meeting is on and Jordan helps me shift the cart out intothehall.
I start heading to the boardroom when I realize he’s not following. I turn back to find him still standing at the elevators, craning his neck to see past me downthehall.
“Something wrong?”Iask.
“No, no” he answers, focusing back on me. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll meet you in a fewminutes.”
Shrugging, I continue down the hall. He must have spotted someone he needs totalkto.
I’m in the middle of arranging a cookie tray when he joins me in the boardroom. A thrill runs through me when the door closes behind him and heat creeps up my neck. Something about being alone with him turns all my nerve endings intosparklers.
“What should I dofirst?”
About a dozen answers spring to mind at once, most of them involving the removal ofclothing.
“You could get the coffee dispensers set up,” I tell him, going with the most sensible reply I canthinkof.
He starts lifting the dispensers and setting them on the table. I try to manage a casualconversation.
“So you’re not really intoyourjob?”
“Hmm?” He pauses what he’s doing and turns tofaceme.
“You said it’s the last thing you want to bedoing.”
“Oh.” He starts straightening the dispensers into a line. “I mean, it’s not exactly mydreamjob.”
“19thStreet isn’t really the place fordreams.”
He laughs so hard that for a second I’m startled, as much by the sudden noise as at how breathtaking he looks, head thrown back, his mouth stretched wide into a smile that’s totally carefree. I can’t help but laugh too, and soon we’re both clutching our stomachs as we try tocalmdown.
“You’ve got that right,” he tells me, still chuckling. “So you don’t like your jobeither?”
“No,” I inform him, “I do not. I didn’t think it was possible to turn something as comforting as a cafe into the lifeless hellhole that is Dark Brown Coffee Co, but apparentlyitis.”
“I take it you normally likecafes?”
“I love them,” I tell him, unable to stop myself from gushing. “Maybe it’s a weird thing to be passionate about, but I am. It’s just this...feeling, you know? When you go somewhere you just feel absolutelyright?”
To my surprise,henods.
“I get that. There’s this one park I go to sometimes. They have all these statues that play music. When I’m there I just feel...absolutely right.” He goes silent for a moment, looking embarrassed. “Anyways, why are you working in a lifeless hellhole? Have you looked for anything at a cafe youactuallylike?”
“I’ve thought about it,” I reply, “but the hours here are steady, and I’m pretty close to saving up enough forschool.”
“What do you want to study?” he asks, leaning against the table nexttome.
“I don’t really know,” I admit. “My mom’s just adamant that I get adegree.”
Jordan nods. “I know the feeling.Mydad—”
He bites off the end of his sentence, his face clouding over with the same stormy expression it did a few days ago, right before he got up to leave the meeting room. Just as he did then, he straightens up and announces that he hastogo.
Without thinking about it, I place a hand on his arm and oureyesmeet.
“Jordan,” I start to say, “isthere...”
My sentence trails off when I feel his hand come to rest just above my hip. The curve of my waist is burning under his touch, and the heat radiates through me, inching down between my legs. I drop my eyes to his chest. He’s breathing just as hard asIam.
