Absolute Zero (13 page)

His eyes followed hers. “All right, I
did
bring you flowers, there is
that
. Just forget about that. Isn’t the food getting cold? Shouldn’t you be feeding me right about now?”

“
No
. I should be thanking you for the flowers and showing you out the front door right about now,” she stated as she walked toward him, grabbed the offered glass and took a large gulp before settling her eyes on him. “This is very good,” she indicated the glass before turning toward the counter and setting it down next to the undressed slaw.

“There’s all kinds of stuff down there, I’m actually surprised it’s still there. I thought about bringing a bottle, but I thought you’d get the wrong idea.”

“I already
have
the wrong idea,” she mumbled as she drizzled vinegar over the radish and herb mixture before stirring it. Her hair had fallen over her eyes hiding whatever expression she was relaying at the moment. He kept his hands clenched to the granite counter edge, the urge to sweep her hair to the side with his fingers was almost overpowering.

What
was
it about this woman?

“So, I’ve never had a fish taco before. Are they good?”

“No. They suck. You probably wouldn’t like them,” she answered almost immediately. His bark of laughter rang out through the kitchen and she snorted a small laugh before she caught herself.

“Oh, Anne…” he was shaking his head before he pushed away from the counter. “Irene’s got nothing on you, I swear.”

She immediately turned toward him.

“I’m not sure how to take that. She has to be the most rotten person I’ve ever met and you say I’m worse?”

His answer was a smirk and a slight shrug.

“And you want me to feed you? You’ve got some nerve,” she stated but in a somewhat joking fashion, he observed.

“Go sit,” she finally breathed out with a resigned sigh, turning to grab two plates from the cabinet before setting them down on the counter.

*****

“That was quite possibly one of the best things I ever ate. You’re a verra good cook, Anne,” he stated as he leaned back in his chair.

It was the first time he had actually spoken during the meal other than the occasional appreciative moan.

“Thanks,” she replied softly, her fingers toying with the delicate stem of the wine glass as she stared at the small amount of liquid left in it.

“So, what’s for dinner tomorrow?”

Her eyes immediately flew to his.

“Relax, love. I’m joking,” he stated with a slight twist to his lips, noting the troubled look on her lovely face. “Actually, maybe I’m not. I’m a horrible cook,” he confided. “I eat out every night.”

“Why don’t you just hire a chef?” she asked.

“Are you applying? Fine. You’re hired.”

“Not me. Working for you in one capacity is enough, thank you,” she quipped lightly before draining the rest of her glass and setting it back down.

“That mouth,” he stated absently as he clearly focused his attention on her lips. “Are you like this with everyone or am I just lucky?”

“I’m an equal opportunity offender. It doesn’t matter who you are. I haven’t singled you out, if that’s what you’re asking,” she responded with an involuntary smile.

“Good to know. Have you made any friends at work yet? I mean, someone
did
make you a cake, I noticed.”

“Birthday list. Everyone gets a cake, apparently. It was actually good,” she answered honestly.

“I’m not sure if they spend more time eating or working in this place. It’s crazy. No wonder we’re so stagnant in the States. The employees are too busy stuffing their faces to actually get any work done. I’ll have to talk to Rand about that when he gets back,” he stated before taking the last sip of his wine.

“So what if they like to eat? If you want them to work, give them better direction. You do
own
the company, you know. Don’t blame the food,” she declared pointedly.
Maybe a bit too pointedly
. She was speaking of her own lack of direction. Apparently her frustration was coming to the surface.

Her remarks only caused one of his brows to rise. “You speak rather decidedly, eh? Any other opinions you want to share? Any more advice for running the company, Mouth?”

Did she push him too far? Apparently not. One side of his mouth turned up, revealing that sexy crease once again.

“No Sir,” she responded automatically, before mentally punching herself in the head. It was precisely the same response she would give to Sam when her mouth got the best of her.

Don’t think about that
. Don’t think about
him
.

“I like that response, Anne.” His eyes did that intense stare that she found completely unnerving.

“Don’t get used to it.  It slipped,” she amended, leveling her own glare.

“Hmm. Stay there.” He pushed away from the table and wandered past her into the kitchen. She trained her eyes on the chair he just vacated.

A moment later, he was pouring more wine into her glass.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he emptied the rest of the bottle into his own glass.

“This is a vintage Pouilly Fumé, I’d hate to waste it,” he declared as he set the bottle down.

“Oh, right. Not like I can’t re-cork it and put it in the fridge or anything…”

“Anne?” He drew out her name slowly, causing her eyes to meet his. “Cut that out.” His gaze was positively magnetizing. He wasn’t a classically handsome guy by any means but the intensity of his eyes made him one of the most attractive men she had ever encountered. He was filling the room, surrounding her with his presence, his attention focused solely on her face. She could feel the flush starting at her neck and creeping up to her cheeks. Another few seconds and she would be in full-on blushing mode.

She couldn’t let him see that. She pushed away from the table, mumbled something about cleaning up and grabbed both of their empty plates before turning.

She busied herself rinsing the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher before he finally spoke.

“So, who was on the phone, Anne?” he asked as casually as possible as he watched her work in the kitchen. Her clothes were so incredibly baggy; it was impossible to discern her shape beneath them. She had been flushed a moment before she pushed away from the table. He’d like to think he was the cause of that. Throwing Miss Bennett off balance was becoming a most favorite pastime. Highly intriguing and quite arousing, if he was being honest with himself.

Of course, he shouldn’t have come here. She was right. If she worked in the Scotland Lab he would never even consider the possibility of associating with her outside of work. As it was, he felt so far removed from the American operation, this seemed…acceptable?
Was that the word?

“Anne?” he was so lost in his own thoughts, he finally realized she never answered the question.

“A friend,” she responded quietly as he watched her bend over to load another dish into the rack.
Damn baggy drawers
…

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend? What?” he asked.
She was so damn reticent…

She didn’t answer, or maybe she did and he just didn’t hear her.

“What was that?” He pushed away from the table, grabbing both wine glasses before wandering over to the sink and placing hers on the counter.

“I didn’t answer,” she stated simply.

“Was that a difficult question for some reason?” He leaned on the counter and watched her profile.

“No, the response was going to be rude, so I kept it to myself for once.”

“Oh. Can I guess what it was?” He watched her shoulders shrug through her giant t-shirt as she rinsed the silverware.

“Go for it.”

“Hmm. I would guess that the response was ‘none of my business’. Am I right?”

She stopped her hands and turned her head toward him. “You know me so well,” she stated seriously. His joking grin was replaced by a seriously intent expression.

“No. Not yet. But I want to,” he replied in a low voice. If the air around them wasn’t charged enough, his last comment caused a spike of awareness to course through her. He was too close. They were too alone. Anything could happen.

She was having difficulty pulling her gaze away. Her mouth was suddenly dry, she noticed. She fought the urge to wet her lip with her tongue.
He would take that as a sign
or some kind of invitation
. Instead she forced a swallow and fought frantically to come up with something to turn this conversation back to an appropriate one.

“So…you built this house?”

“What?” he was still staring at her.

“The house? You said you built it when you first came here?” She watched him blink a couple of times before he finally relaxed back against the counter.

“I did. Do you like it?”

“Yes. It’s very cozy. It’s just surprising, that’s all.” She turned to view the water that continued to spew into the sink.

“What’s surprising?”

“Well, it seems kind of small for a man of your…means, I guess.”

“I’m very, how do you say…down to earth? Is that the right term? I’m not a flashy man by any means. I have simple tastes. I told you I prefer this house to that one,” he indicated toward the backyard with his head.

“Then why did you buy it?”

“Pardon?”

“Why did you buy that house?” she asked.

“Wasn’t my idea,” he responded immediately.

“Whose was it?”

A small trickle of apprehension slithered up his spine at her questioning. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. “Anne? That was lovely meal. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome, eh?” He placed his wine glass back on the counter and took a few steps away from her, noticing the bowl still left on the table. He retrieved it, turning and catching her strange gaze before she turned her attention to sink once again. He walked over and placed the bowl in the sink.

“You missed one,” he practically whispered. She could actually feel his breath on her ear. The front of his body was maybe an inch from hers. She watched as the bubbles multiplied in the sink as she swallowed back a reply. As it was, her lips couldn’t move. In fact, her whole body was held immobile, waiting…

“Good evening, Anne,” his voice was so close to her ear, so soft. One of his hands was gripping the edge of the sink, she noticed. The veins practically popped from the top of his hand and his forearm, she noticed. As if he were holding himself back…

“Good night,” she finally answered back on a shaky breath, watching his hand, feeling the warmth from his close proximity, wondering why she wasn’t feeling claustrophobic. Her body was reacting, and not in the usual way. This was far more disturbing.

Suddenly his hand was gone, the warmth from a split second ago diminished. Her eyes were still trained on the spot his hand just vacated.  She could hear the front door close before she finally took a gulp of air.

*****

She read over the presentation with a keen eye, looking for typos or anything else they may have missed the night before. It was eerily silent in the office the next morning. She wouldn’t see another human being for at least an hour. It would be the perfect time to hit the Lab and she intended to do just that.

She purposely stayed away from the gym this morning, opting to run outside instead. After last night, she was rather positive that McClellan’s intentions were in no way of the friendly persuasion. He all but admitted that with some of his comments.

The ringing phone on her desk caused her nerves to jump. It was so unexpected. Especially since it was
her
phone.
Was it him?

A local number showed on the digital readout.
Probably a wrong number
…

“Hello?”

“Anne! Oh thank god. I was hoping you were there!” She could hear an almost croaking voice on the other side of the line. It was definitely Em.

“Em? Are you Ok?” she asked tentatively.

“
NO!
Oh Anne, I’m sick to my stomach. Hold on…”

She could hear the sound of retching and some kind of plopping sound…
was she…?

“Em?” She could hear coughing in the background. A few second later, a sniff and a small cough could be heard much closer.

“I can’t do this today,” she heard through the phone.

“Do what?”

“I need to ask you the biggest favor. You can say no. But you practically wrote the whole thing anyway, so I know you can do this…” Em croaked out miserably.

“What? Em, what’s wrong? What are you talking about?”

“The presentation! There’s no way I can get up in front of that man. I’ll barf all over the conference table! Please do it. Can you do it? I swear I will never ask for anything again. Please do this for me?” she pleaded. “Ugh…oh hold on, I’m so sorry…”

More retching, more plopping.