Love Kinection (2 page)

“Sometimes. But sometimes I like it sweet, too.”

And there he went with the innuendo again. I tipped my mug toward him as a dismissal and gave myself a sharp mental slap to get the heck away from him and his muscular arms.

Beautiful man equals bad. You’re better off with your vibrator. Then you can only be disappointed by dead batteries
.

The coast back to my cubicle appeared to be clear. If I busted ass on the marketing copy and uploaded the rest of the images from Ralph, I might be able to escape by three or so. Five steps later, I found myself cornered by Cindy, my unwitting, holiday loving torture bot.

She wore a bright red sweater cut low enough to advertise several inches of cleavage, matching lipstick, and a pair of heart-shaped antennae.

“What’s with the head gear?”

“Oh, come on, Abby. I’m a love bug. Doing my Valentine’s Day duty and giving everyone a bite of holiday magic.”

“Bite me, and I’ll slug you.” The words came out, and I felt ashamed of myself. Cindy probably meant well, but I didn’t want to joke around.

She laughed in a high-pitched twitter and rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t you think it’s time you forgot about Charlie and your sister running off and had some fun? I haven’t seen you wear makeup or curl your hair in ages. You can’t expect to get a good man looking like you don’t care about yourself.”

“Actually, I do care about myself. That’s why I don’t do those things anymore. And for your information, I have a date tonight.”

“Oh, really? Who with?” Her tone said she didn’t believe me.

Mischief overtook me. “Ben, Jerry, and Riesling. Yep, we’re gonna have a crazy orgy.”

Her forehead crinkled, and she frowned. Then she burst into laughter, and I waited for the headband to fall off from the force of the antennae bouncing back and forth.

“Oh my goodness, aren’t you too funny? Tom, isn’t she funny?”

I spun and ended up nose to chest with the man in question. “Very. And sexy, too,” he said, before he leaned over and gave me a peck on the tip of my nose.

“Ever heard of sexual harassment?”

“Yep.” He saluted me with his coffee and walked away. I tried to be mad but felt myself start to blush instead.

Cindy’s mouth dropped open but she recovered fast. A quick smile stretched her lips, and she openly stared as he retreated. I understood why she wanted to watch his back move under his shirt. Or his butt. Cindy is smart, so I imagine the combination of the two body parts caught her attention. It’s a nice view. Like I said, he’s a lady killer. Although perhaps not completely evil, he seemed to be balanced out at around ninety-five percent or so. He had recognized my TARDIS mug.

“Still sure you don’t want to come? It’ll be fun, Abby. You deserve some fun.” She winked at me and pointed in the direction Tom had gone. A laugh began to bubble up, but I forced myself to take a sip of coffee and swallow it instead. She didn’t need encouragement, and neither did I.

“I’m sure. I’m not really into parties anyway, Cindy. Maybe next year.” Next year the pain would be duller than now, and I’d be up for social events. A girl can dream.

She shrugged and gave a dramatic sigh of defeat. “Oh, all right. But I might come around before the end of the day to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

“You do that. And maybe I’ll have found a way to close the Hellmouth by then.”

From her puzzled expression, I gathered she wasn’t a
Buffy
fan and used her confusion as an excuse to walk away. The best thing for me to do now involved a return to my cubicle to finish up my work and an early exit from the office before my day got even more ridiculous.

My cheeks felt as if they were on fire all the way down the hall from the little kiss, and I fought touching my nose.

***

Tom stood outside my cubicle. When I saw him, I scuffed one toe on the carpet mid-stride, fell into him, and collided with his broad chest again. He caught me by the forearms and held on until I righted myself. Coffee splashed onto my thumb and part of his arm.

“Oh, crap! I’m so sorry.” I silently cursed myself. The napkin I clutched did little for the big wet spot in his shirt. “Dammit, this day keeps better and better. I think I’m cursed.” I grabbed my towel from where it hung on a thumb tack inside the cubicle and dabbed at his shirt. Good thing I kept one around for emergency spills. Or in case I happened to find myself hitchhiking across the galaxy.

“Nah, I don’t think voodoo curses run to clumsiness. They make you lose weight at preternatural speed or demons stick fish hooks in you.” He took my hand and looked it over. “Are you burned?”

“No, no I’m just a little hot.”

The smile he shot me would have set my panties on fire, if I’d held any interest in him. But I don’t, ’cause I’m not stupid anymore. And since my heart is on permanent hiatus behind some nice thick stone walls and a portcullis, Tom and his killer smile are right where they belong—on the outside. French knights armed with farm animals wait on the far side ready to chuck cows and geese at him if needed.

“Nice towel. Love the
42
insignia. And it’s even got a ring on it so you can hang it up. You put that there?” He grinned and passed the towel back to me. “Garbage in, garbage out.”

“Ah, no.” His easy smile brought out one of my own. “I bought it that way. I like Douglas Adams.” I hung the towel back on its push pin.

“Me too. Mos Def was pretty funny as Ford in the movie.” Tom perused the rest of my cubicle, his smile widening at the assortment of geek kitsch stuck to the walls and displayed on every available flat surface. His familiarity unnerved me. I couldn’t remember if he’d ever actually stopped and talked to me here before or not. “Can I do a poem with the zombie phrase magnets?”

“I tell you what. I’ll pay for your dry cleaning, okay? E-mail me what the bill is, and we’ll call it square.” Tom didn’t seem inclined to leave and continued to stare at my collection. He also smelled amazing, not that I went around sniffing people. Not even gorgeous men with dark hair and nice muscular pecs whom I douse with hot beverages.

Secret bottles of wine in my bottom drawer might be against company policy, but I began to think I needed one. For medicinal purposes. My heart skipped a few beats and seemed headed toward a full stop the longer he hung around.

“What are you planning to do about your phone?” A drop of coffee clung to his full bottom lip. I shook my head to stop staring and felt a pang in my chest when I pulled the item in question out of my pocket.

A huge crack ran from the upper left corner all the way to the right. The phone turned on when I tried it. Great, I still had the ability to receive horrible text messages from my sister and ex-fiancé. I could die with my life complete.

“I don’t know. I just bought it. Maybe I can get it fixed.”

“I can do it for you. If you want.”

“Oh? You’re an iPhone repair man?”

“Among other things.” His flirtatious smile appeared again. “I actually happen to have a kit. I already had to fix my own, and I bought two at the time. I tend to drop my phones for some reason.”

“Oh.” Part of me wanted to run out of the cubicle as fast as I could. But another part thought the capital idea involved sticking around. Parts of me are stupid. I knew this, but listened to the stupid part anyway.

“Do you want me to fix it?” One perfect dark eyebrow rose.

I stared at him with my mouth open, scared and slightly lost. Panicky. “Um, yeah, sure. How much does a kit cost?”

“About twenty-five bucks. Won’t take me all that long. I’ve had some practice.”

I’ll bet you have
.

“Oh, okay. Where do you wanna do it?”

A wicked grin pulled the corners of his mouth up and I blushed, swearing under my breath. Damn my porcelain skin tone. I looked at my monitor rather than where he lounged in the cubicle doorway. My zombie monkey plush, Roberto, needed to be put back on the shelf so I busied myself putting him away. The activity rated safer than facing Tom.

“I’ll bring it over your place after work and do it then.”

“Ahh, no. I have plans tonight.”

He shrugged. “I promise not to intrude too much on your ice cream and wine. Won’t take me long at all.”

The muscle in my chest pounded a mile a minute. “Can I just give it to you, and you give it back on Monday?”

“No. I’m not comfortable leaving a woman without a way to call the police if she needs to. And I’m betting you don’t bother with a landline at home anymore.”

Busted.

Damn it, get a grip on yourself, woman. He’s not asking you to have wild monkey sex in the backseat of his car
.

“All right. Fine. You can come over.” I said the words and wanted to suck them right back into my idiot mouth. The Apple store is capable of phone repairs if I’d been willing to pay more and wait for service.

“Great. I’ll bring dinner.”

“Ah…no. No you won’t.”

“Why not? I’m a growing boy. I need to eat.”

A laugh slipped out despite myself. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll see you later.” A few steps took me to my desk, and I sat down and faced the monitor in the hope he’d leave. My face had to be a permanent shade of magenta.

What the hell did I just agree to? I’m losing my mind. Or maybe I’m horny. Yeah. I’m horny, and he’s hot as hell, and it’s shot my judgment to shit
.

“I need your address, Abby.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I scribbled my address on a Post-It and passed it to him. Tingles raced up my arm when our fingers touched. “Which Doctor?” he asked with a gesture to my sonic screwdriver pen.

“Oh, number ten. I’ve got a thing for David Tennant.” As soon as the comment slipped out, I wanted to slap myself in the forehead. What was my problem? I stuck the pen in my center drawer and closed it harder than I needed to.

“Christopher Eccleston was more my speed. Well, I guess I’m lucky you didn’t use the end with the special ink. The battery in mine’s dead so I don’t have a UV light to see it with anymore.”

“Eccleston? Really? Why? He was sorta…goofy.”

“Exactly. See you around six-thirty.”

He walked out and left me with the smell of his cologne and my heart’s defenses partially down. My chest hurt when I saw my phone so I crammed it in my purse and tried to forget about the text message.

Getting married in Vegas today
.

God. She couldn’t even pick her own wedding date.

Chapter Two

I made it out of the office in record time. Tom stayed away from me after the coffee incident, and I started to think maybe I’d imagined the entire trip-splash-wipe-sizzle-sexy smile-awkward thing. After a quick grocery store stop, bubbles tickled my nose, the bath tub jets pulsed, wine flowed, and several takeout menus lay scattered across the kitchen table in case my “date” didn’t show. All by three-thirty. When you’re good, you’re good.

Tomorrow, I needed to get my number changed. But not today. Today I would not think about how much my chest still ached from the betrayal or wonder why my sister wanted to be so horrible to me. No thoughts about my fiancé and sister eloping to Vegas. Or
Text Message: The Sequel
. Who the hell does that kind of crap, anyway? My love life had gone off the rails into a movie about mean girls in high school. Well, if it was
Heathers
, Winona Ryder’s character held appeal, but without the psycho boyfriend. Definitely didn’t need one of those. I’d already had the cheater model. On second thought, Christian Slater did have an aura of I’m-on-the-edge-of-crazy sexiness.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I swiped at it angrily and took a gulp from my glass. The mouthful of liquid proved too large and the wine gagged me as it went down. I hadn’t allowed myself to cry over them since Thanksgiving, but for some reason, here in the tub the dam broke and everything came out in a gush. Snot even ran out of my nose.

***

I fell asleep in the water until the chill on my exposed skin woke me. I used my foot to pull the plug and stood to rinse off. It gave me time to avoid the mirror and the puffy, splotchy mess of my face.

The smell of my favorite shampoo didn’t help brighten my spirits. However, a pint of Cherry Garcia was in the freezer. Some heavy creamy goodness might be just what the doctor ordered. Treadmill torture tomorrow, loads of heavy cream today. A capital plan, extra chub on the thighs and hips.

I wrapped myself in a towel and was headed for the bedroom when someone pounded on my door. What the hell? My bathrobe had disappeared from its usual spot and the banging continued into one long stream of noise.

“I’m coming. Hold on. Stop pounding.” I kicked the shoes I’d left on the welcome mat to the side and muttered under my breath about impatient people and rudeness. I opened the door, one hand on the knob while the other held the top of my towel closed.

It was Tom. His eyes widened for a second before he grinned. The smile dazzled me enough to make me forget to breathe for a minute. Cold air swirled around my bare legs and reminded me I stood in full view of anyone passing by, naked but for a towel. I squeaked and ducked out of sight.

“Well, I guess you’ve got an agenda ready to go. I don’t usually try for sex with a woman on a first date, but I think I could be persuaded.”

“What are you doing here? What time is it? Do you always pound on people’s doors that way? Geez. And I’m not naked for you. I’m naked for me.” The statement didn’t come out exactly the way I planned. Tom laughed and picked up a box from the ground by his feet.

“I thought maybe you were ignoring me. Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“No. I’m not ready for company. I can’t have been in the tub that long.” I gave myself a point for three coherent sentences in a row without an implication of masturbation.

“We have a date. Remember? Or am I that easy to forget?” He came over the threshold and looked around until he located the kitchen. Tom toed his shoes off and walked into the other room to set the container down on the counter before I could step in front of him. The smell of food wafted out when he opened the top flaps.