“Maybe. Not sure. I just didn’t have time to get it cut.”
I toyed with the ends without thinking about it. Though I could feel a blush heating my cheeks at the intimate gesture, I didn’t take my hand away. Instead, I ran my fingers through it. “I like it. You should see how it looks in a couple more days.”
“Is this your distraction?” He glanced over at me while the family on screen boarded up all the windows in their house. “Because you’re missing the movie. Though I’m not complaining. It feels nice.”
“It was your idea to distract myself,” I reminded him, and bit back a grin as I ran my fingers through his soft hair. It was very intimate and seductive, and my mind was nowhere near the plot.
So I faced the TV and kept my fingers in his hair, and prayed nothing too scary would happen in the next five minutes. It was a useless and completely absurd hope. After barely a minute or two, the music tempo increased, the screen flashed with a strobe effect, jumping between black and flickers of gray where parts of the room flashed onscreen, but details were impossible to discern, all the while my heart raced with nervous anticipation.
Suddenly, the flashlight clicked on, and just at the edges of the darkness, the family huddled together, surrounded by sinister aliens with oversized heads and long, skinny bodies. I screamed, and, unintentionally, fisted my hand into the hair at the top of Matt’s head. I yanked back, pulling his head and a fistful of his hair. He let out a very deep scream to accompany my high-pitched one, and we both jumped up off the couch. He was minus the few strands of hair still clutched in my fist.
I don’t know which was more horrifying, the fact I’d completely lost my cool, or that I’d physically assaulted him while doing so. He stared down at me, eyes wide, while I prayed an alien would come down and abduct me. Now.
Why couldn’t time with Matt be normal?
“I am so sorry, Matt! Are you – is your – are you okay?” I reached out for him, but he placed his hand to his neck, blocking me. I clasped my hands together so they couldn’t do any more damage. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Give me whiplash?” When my eyes widened in horror, he gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m just joking. It’s really not that bad. I think my ego is bruised a little, though. You know, because I screamed.”
“Yes, well…it was a very manly scream,” I said, then pinched my lips together on the hysterical laughter threatening to bubble out of my mouth.
“Thanks…” He rubbed his neck.
“If you want to go home and ice your neck, I totally understand.”
“Come here,” Matt said and put his arms around my stiff, freaked-out body. I was a mess. This movie was nothing like the documentaries I’d been watching on the History Channel; this was on a whole new level of horrific, evidenced by the hair I’d ripped from his head.
“I think I’m destined to embarrass myself in front of you,” I moaned into his shirt; it smelled of cologne and Matt. I took a deep breath; it was intoxicating. “If you ever watch a movie with me again, I swear I won’t pick something like this.”
He pulled me down to the couch and settled his arm around me, tucking me into his side. His lips were near my forehead, his breath a whisper against my skin. I shivered and snuggled closer. “Deal,” he said, tipping my chin up and holding my gaze as my heartbeat quickened.
I couldn’t look away. All I wanted to do was lean in and kiss him. The kisses we’d shared had been on replay in my head; it was all I could think about. Looking at the lines of his lips now only intensified the need to feel them again. His gaze smoldered—was he remembering our kiss? The chemistry between us hung heavy in the air, and I had no doubt he felt it, too. I moistened my lips, gravitating toward his mouth and hoping like hell I didn’t do something to screw this up before I made it to the finish line.
Fireworks went off when his lips touched mine. Sound faded to the background and I melted against him, feeling warm and soft, and completely lost in the moment, in him. The tip of his tongue brushed against mine and everything else went blank against the heat of our mouths.
When he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine, I willed my heartbeat to slow, for the butterflies to still.
“How is it you leave me breathless? Thoughtless, even?” he asked, his breathing as rapid as mine.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, and wondered the same thing. I couldn’t remember ever experiencing this kind of intense connection before. If I had, I couldn’t remember when.
He kissed me again, a small, warm kiss.
“That was…nice,” I whispered against his lips. Then I kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip, delighted as I heard his breath catch.
“I don’t think nice is the right word for
that
kiss,” Matt said and kissed me again until I shivered in his arms.
“I agree. Much better than nice,” I said against his lips. This man was dangerous. He was too perfect, and too perfect scared me. “We should get back to the movie.”
His lips twitched up into a ghost of a smile. “No covering your eyes or assaulting me,” he said.
I smacked him in the gut and he made an
oouufff
sound.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days later I walked into Bradshaw Insurance with my latte therapy in hand. Before I could log onto my computer, Roxanna peeked above the partition between our desks. Her eyes were wide with pent-up excitement. She bounced on her toes on the other side.
“Everything okay?” I asked with a smile.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to show up?”
I glanced down at the clock. It was only eight-thirty in the morning. “I always get here at this time.”
“Whatever; that’s beside the point.” Roxanna disappeared.
I switched on my computer, assuming Roxanna had gone back to processing claims. Instead, she scooted in her chair around the partition, using her mauve bootines to propel her.
She slapped a manila envelope on my desk.
“What’s that?” I asked.
She ignored my question. “You’ve been having phone sex with Dimples, haven’t you? I can see it in your naughty little eyes.”
“No, I am not having phone sex,” I said, and felt my cheeks flush. “We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, yeah. Friends don’t cuddle. Friends don’t ogle each other while others are trying to have a conversation with them.” Roxanna fanned herself. “
Friends don’t tongue kiss
.”
“You are such a spaz.” I rolled my eyes and tried not to sound too bummed, “I probably won’t ever see him again, after the whiplash assault.”
“If he can’t take a little beating up, he’s not the guy for you.” Roxanna flipped her hair behind her shoulder and grinned.
“Not funny.” I dropped my forehead into my hands. “He said he’d call.” I turned my head to look up at her from under my hand. “He hasn’t called.”
“It’s barely been two days.”
“I know.”
“Seeing you like this—” Roxanna made a sweeping circular motion, “—made me realize just how into him you are. So…” She leaned back in her chair and, with a triumphant motion, gestured at the envelope. “I’m sure you want to know what this is…don’t you?”
With my eyes on the envelope, I said, “Yes, I’ve already asked you what it is.”
She gave me a look of impatience. “Are you trying to ruin this for me?”
“Okay, okay,” I said with a laugh, and threw my hands up. “Please, Roxanna Leigh Moss, please, please tell me what is inside this envelope.” I picked the envelope up and waved it in the air. “I
must know
or the curiosity will
kill me
.”
“That’s better. I almost didn’t think you cared.” She faked a pout. And then her eyes lit up. She leaned forward and stared into my eyes, very Roxanna-dramatic-like. “This is his
entire life story
. And you’re welcome.”
I lost the smile and dropped the envelope like a hot plate. “You didn’t,” I whispered.
“Yes, I did.” She picked it up and held it out to me, but I crossed my arms and refused to take it, staring at it like it might contain Anthrax. “Take it.”
I shook my head. “No way. I can’t open that.” I turned and gave her an accusing stare. “I can’t believe you did this!”
“Of course you can,” she said, losing patience. “I’m nosy, which is why I moonlight at my cousin’s PI firm. I get paid to question everyone and everything, especially the guy my bestie is panting over. Anyway, if I hadn’t been pulling Matt’s background info, I would’ve been pulling someone else’s.”
“You know what I mean,” I admonished, staring at the envelope. “Holy shit, you really did it.”
“Before you give all your thanks to me, I should have you know it wasn’t my idea.” She acknowledged my look of disbelief. “I know, I know, shocking. It was Lexie’s idea. And we both really like him, which is why we did this. We didn’t want you having any more nasty surprises. I’m sure he would understand.”
I raised my brows. “He’d understand you pulling his background information without his consent? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Illegal-schma-legal,” she said with a shrug.
“That’s not even a word,” I said.
“Don’t be so dramatic. I approved of him the night I met him. And now I
really
approve of him.” She tapped the envelope I still hadn’t taken. “I won’t even have to drill him with a million questions the next time I see him.”
“Really?” I asked. Roxanna behaving ? Doubtful. I bit back a smile.
Roxanna crossed her heart. “Yes. And now all he needs to do is give me the name of the friend he was telling me about, the cute construction guy he promised to introduce me to. If Matt can get me his information beforehand so I can pull his background information, that’d be great.”
“You are impossible,” I sighed.
“A little,” she agreed, and dropped the envelope into my lap. “This was important. Be grateful.”
“Right,” I said and picked the envelope up. The package was heavy, which worried me. It was a good thing I didn’t plan on reading the contents. I waved it at her then set it back on the desk. “Thanks for this. You’re a great friend.”
Roxanna didn’t leave. She scooted her chair closer. “I ran Richard’s background check, too, but I didn’t think you’d want to see it so I didn’t bring it with. FYI, he’s got really shitty credit for someone who lives in his parents’ basement.”
From the U-shaped cubicle across the aisle from me, Tricia raised her head when she heard Richard’s name. I dropped my voice so she couldn’t hear. “Why did you run his for? I told you, he’s history. I took care of it. Haven’t heard a peep from him in a week now.”
“You mean, you haven’t heard a peep since you told him you were into bikers.” Roxanna giggled. “How the hell do you come up with this shit on the fly?”
“I have no idea. I don’t like what I’m becoming,” I said, thinking back to the phone conversation with my mom. Lately, it was like I’d been taken over by an alien or something, though not the evil gray kind cohabitating my ex’s body. Brent’s alien was the kind abduction movies were made of, like the one I’d watched with Matt. My alien was green and well-intentioned, but in serious need of common sense life lessons.
“Open it.” Roxanna gestured to the envelope.
“No,” I said.
“Don’t you want to know if he’s a psycho?” she asked.
“He’s not a psycho.” And if he were, Roxanna would’ve found some way to deliver the news in typical dramatic fashion. Whatever was inside wasn’t bad—but she wanted me to see it.
“Looking into his background isn’t going to hurt anything; you’ve already sniffed his crotch.”
I smacked her arm. “I’m seriously considering finding a new best friend.”
Roxanna waggled her eyebrows. “Pervert.”
She picked the envelope up to dangle it in my face, and I pushed it away. “Knock it off. We’re just—”
“
Friends.
Yeah, yeah.”
She’d been psychoanalyzing every conversation I told her about, had raised her brows at every mention of a brush of a hand, every whispered word I recounted. We both knew I was a mess over him, already. It wasn’t my fault; there was some strange gravitational pull between us that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—admit out loud. The chemistry was so intense, so exciting, and out of control.
“You’re curious though, right?”
Of course I’m curious.
It was like dangling a chocolate iced donut in my face and then asking if I wanted a bite. Of course I’d want a bite. Who wouldn’t? It was a damn chocolate donut.
LOOK AT IT
, said the unethical part of my mind. What harm could it do? It’s not like he’d ever know.
I pulled out the first document and gave it a quick glance. Scrunching up my nose, I asked, “His college transcript? Was that really necessary?”
“Probably not,” she shrugged. “At least we know he’s not a dummy. The guy graduated with honors.”
Guilt set in. This was wrong. And even worse, knowing it was wrong didn’t make me any less anxious to see the rest of it. “None of this really matters. It’s not my business to know this stuff.”