Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (2 page)

"This isn't the report I
requested
."

"It isn't?"

"No. Do you know what it is?"

"Someone else's report?" I asked, keeping my face blank
,
while
twirl
ing
a lock
.

He leaned in
, his eyes narrow
ing
.
He was close enough to kiss.
"Does that ever work?"

"All the time." I gulped, recoiling in horror
as the words slipped out
.
Damn. Busted.
Knocked senseless by his cologne and coffee scent
,
not to mention
the way his eyes sparkled
.

"I think this is yours." Adam held out the sheet
, print side up. My body edged away,
and
my eyes took a good look.
Yep, I'd printed out a page of Victoria's Secret lingerie.
When I didn't take it, he
thrust the page
a bit
closer to me
, leaning in
again
, his eyes glazing over momentarily as he got a good view down my top. At least
,
he was distracted
enough for me to
smooth over my goof.
I thanked the Wonderbra deity and got on with it.

"Not mine," I lied deftly.

Adam
’s forehead knit
ted
into a frown. H
e
flipped the
page
over,
scanned the contents
,
then looked at me
, o
r more precisely
,
at my boobs, and then back to the sheet.

"Looks like your size," he said
sof
tly and my mouth dropped open. Was he sizing up my lady lumps? In the office?
How rude.
He continued, in the same low voice
, too low for any of my neighbo
ring idiots
, um, colleagues,
to hear. "Personally
,
I
like
the lemon set better. Sexy, but not too revealing. Leaves a bit of mystery." Then he dumped the
page
on my desk and marched off,
adding
over his shoulder. "Send that report to the printer again, would you?"

I gaped at him.
But
this time
,
I was really,
really
careful what I sent to the printer. Five minutes later
,
I put the lemon silk bra with the lace edging into my virtual
shopping
basket, along with the matching thong, and purchased them. Well, if Adam said they were sexy, who was I to argue? He was built like a Greek
g
od, but with
worse
hair. I suspected his middle name was
“
Yum
.”
I
also
suspected he knew a lot about women’s lingerie and not in a secret, blinds-drawn, don’t tell, sort of way.

But…
was he
flirting
?

Hmm.

N
ot sure what I thought about that. A nice office flirt did make the day go faster
,
but Adam was my boss
, not to mention
an
annoying
one
,
and I was nothing
,
if not professional.

Snort. Yeah. That made me laugh too.

The downside of Adam having my report in his hot manly hands was that he now knew I had finished it, which meant I'd have to
begin
a new report. Something which I could preferably complete in three hours flat, spend at least a couple of hours
“
researching
”
in the basement library
(read: go to Starbucks, call
Lily
,
and do my nails)
,
but could
spin into at least four days of
“concentrated
work.
”

It took Adam fifteen minutes to s
end me an email—
despite being within talking
, not hollering,
distance
—
to request a report on the latest public survey
regarding
insurance claims. Why he didn't just get up and ask, I don't know
.
Of course,
I'd email
ed
Bob, who sat
merely
four desks awa
y, for two months without realiz
ing who he was
,
so who was I to talk?

My job as an admin/researcher
/dogsbody
for Green Hand Insurance
wa
s full of vari
ous
and wonderful things.
Not
.
Do people even say
“
not
”
anymore
?
Largely
,
it meant I wrote reports whenever some kind of
new
legislation, survey, policy,
or some other document
ation
came out that no one truly cared about
. As long as it
affected
insurance
,
the powers that be at Green Hand could adjust their insurance lending
,
while
feed
ing
the sales department with the
ir
latest information. Along with
my endless and
dull reports, I also file
d
, type
d
and
took
notes. I have no doubt in my mind that somewhere far, far away, someone thought my job was an important and useful one. I can't say I shared that thought
;
but at least
,
it meant my mother could say the youngest of her brood did something r
espectable
.
I
di
dn’t follow my three older brothers into law enforcement, or my older sister into an actual career
, after all
. Besides, someone had
to keep the wheels oiled, the sales agents
’
information
stocked
,
as well as
ensure that the real
,
live office workers didn't have to bust a gut doing the
grunt
work that temps like me were drafted
for
.

And heaven forbid Adam,
here just a month
,
brought
in from some other dull department, had to do any of the research himself. He caught my eye and raised his eyebrows
while
I ducked behind the monitor, called up my email and started to type.

Adam,

This looks like a tough one. I'll need to go to the library and research some of the points. Is it okay if I go now while it's quiet?

Lexi

I hit
“
send
”
and looked around. Of course
,
it was quiet. No one appeared to be doing anything. Well, Bob was doing a crossword, his eyes pinched and studious. I could see the corner of the newspaper peeking out from the large black binder he was
pretending to
perus
e
. Across from him, Anne's hands flew across the keyboard
,
but I would bet twenty
buck
s that she was emailing one of her cronies.
A few desks over,
Vincent, our accountant, was bobbing his head and I figured he had his headphones
o
n.
Still, kudos to them
all
for pretending.

An instant message window popped up on the bottom bar of my screen.

Adam:
Are you really going to the library?

I sighed. So
distrustful.

Me:
Yes.

Lie. I was going to Starbucks to get an
i
ced
c
aramel
m
acchiato and a muffin.

Adam:
How long will you be?

Me:
A couple
hours? I need to make sure I have u
p-
to
-
date information on the survey.

Hah. Can't complain about that
,
can you? I added the question mark to the time frame in case I couldn't be bothered to come back before my day officially ended. Then I could
technically
claim that I was guesstimating the time and had
his approval
.

Adam:
Fine. Put a copy of the report on Martin Dean's desk before you go. He'll need to read it before tomorrow's morning briefing.

Me:
Okay.