Page 4 of Stalked By the Accountant

Right on schedule, Becca walks in. My pulse quickens at the sight of her. Today she's wearing a cute floral dress, her hair down in soft curls. She orders her usual—a vanilla latte with an extra shot. I've memorized it by now.

She doesn't notice me as she waits for her drink. I pretend to read something on my phone, sneaking glances at her. The barista calls her name, and Becca grabs her latte, flashing him a bright smile. I feel that pang of jealousy again, wishing she would smile atmelike that.

Becca rushes out the door, off to start her day. I know her routine now—gym after work. And I'll be there, like clockwork. Just a guy working out, nothing suspicious. She'll never know I timed it exactly for her.

It's all I can do to get through my day. After work, I head straight to the gym. It's called Fitness Zone, just a few blocks from our office. I signed up for a membership this morning—all part of the plan.

I change quickly and head out to the cardio area. There are rows of treadmills, bikes, and ellipticals. I choose the elliptical with the perfect vantage point to see the studio room where Becca takes her evening yoga class.

Right on time, Becca walks in. She's wearing tight black leggings that show off her toned legs and a pink sports bra peeking out from under her loose tank top. I can't take my eyes off her as I pretend to focus on my workout, pedaling faster.

Becca sets up her yoga mat in the front row, near the mirror. I have a perfect view of her. I watch her stretch, arching her back as she reaches her arms overhead. The way her body moves is mesmerizing.

I take a long swig from my water bottle, watching as Becca flows gracefully from one yoga pose to the next. Her face is serene and focused. A few loose strands of hair have escaped her ponytail and are curling around her cheeks.

My workout is forgotten as I study her every move. The way her limbs bend and straighten, how her chest rises and falls with each breath. I imagine reaching out and touching her, feeling her soft skin under my fingertips.

About halfway through class, she glances in my direction, and our eyes meet for a split second in the mirror. I look away quickly, my heart racing. Does she recognize me from the coffee shop? Maybe she's noticed me watching her.

No, I reassure myself. I've been careful. She doesn't suspect a thing. This is all going according to plan. Soon, I'll be ready to make my move. But for now, I'm content just being near her, breathing the same air. Already I feel closer, like I'm becoming a part of her world. She just doesn't know it yet.

My obsession is getitng worse. I think about her constantly now—to the point of distraction. At work, I stare blankly at spreadsheets, unable to focus. I tap my pen, my leg jiggling with impatience for the day to end so I can see Becca again.

At night, I lie awake, imagining how her hair would feel tangled around my fingers, how her lips would taste. My pulse quickens at the thought of holding her, caressing her, hearing her gasp my name.

I have to be patient, though. Rushing this would ruin everything. Like a sculptor chiseling a statue from marble, I will slowly chip away at her reservations until the real Becca emerges—the one meant only for me.

CHAPTERFOUR

Jack

I crouchin the shadowy alcove outside her office, heart pounding. The minute hand ticks closer to five o’clock and freedom for Becca. I've memorized her schedule. My palms sweat in anticipation.

The click of her heels echoes down the hall before I see her. She's glued to her phone, brow furrowed. I hold my breath as she walks straight toward me, not glancing up. At the last second, I step into her path.

We collide and she stumbles, phone clattering to the floor. "Oh!" She gasps, startled.

I grab her arm to steady her, savoring her warmth beneath my fingers. "I'm so sorry!" I apologize, my heart beating a mile at minute as electricity zings through me from where I'm touching her. "Are you alright?"

She looks up at me and smiles tentatively. A blush colors her cheeks. "I'm fine. Just wasn't watching where I was going."

I retrieve her phone and hand it to her, letting my fingers linger on hers. "Here you go. No harm done." I swallow as I try not to stare at her, try not to let my obsession show. I want to reach out and caress her cheek, run my hands through her silky hair. But I restrain myself, clenching my fists at my sides. "I'm Jack, by the way."

"Becca," she says. "Thanks for catching me. I can be such a klutz sometimes." She laughs self-consciously.

"Happy to help. And it was me—not you." If she only knew. It was me. I orchestrated the whole thing.

We chat for a few minutes about work. She's even more captivating up close, her green eyes sparkling behind those glasses. I commit the curve of her lips to memory, already longing for more.

I seize the moment to keep our encounter going. "So, Becca, what is it that you do here?"

She brightens, clearly happy to talk about her work. "I'm in marketing. Though I just got switched to a new department, so I'll be on the seventh floor starting next week."

"Oh really?" I ask, feigning surprise. A twinge of guilt pierces through my excitement, but I push it away. I did what I had to do to get her moved closer to me. "What a coincidence. I'm on the seventh floor too. I'm an accountant."

"No way!" Becca laughs, a musical sound that makes my heart flutter. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around then."

"I look forward to it," I reply with a grin. I can't believe my plan actually worked. Soon I'll get to see her beautiful face every day. I'll get to know everything about her. The thought sends a thrill through me.

---