She was supposed to smile back or laugh or something, but as usual, her body didn’t cooperate. She didn’t do well one-on-one with any stranger, but this guy was launching her system straight to Armageddon level. Attraction was the worst. It was like detonating a bomb inside her, setting off all the most embarrassing aspects of her anxiety and Tourette’s. Most people got a little nervous when they were attracted to someone, but for her, it was amplified a hundred times over. She was doing everything she could to act chill, white-knuckling her neurons, but she knew it couldn’t last. She was bound to tic or say something awkward. Her tension increased—a rubber band being pulled, pulled, pulled. “Did you need something?”
Inwardly, she winced at how rude it sounded.
He flinched and his smile dropped a few watts. She felt a pang at the loss of it. “Uh, yeah, sorry. This woman I met downstairs, Andi, asked if I could bring you this.” He lifted the coffee like he was offering a sacrifice to the gods. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your—” His gaze flicked over her shoulder to her screen, and his eyes widened behind his glasses. “Work? Private moment with your boyfriend? Shoe-fetish research?”
She closed her eyes, mortified, not even bothering to look behind her. “It’s…spam.”
“Hey, no judgment. You do you, friend,” he said genially. “I was just looking for Lucinda, and Andi said you’d know where to point me.”
Hollyn’s face was so hot she felt sunburned. She forced herself to meet his gaze, and fought to keep her tics at bay, hating the fear, hating this thing that took her over when she was around other people. Her fingers tapped on the arm of her chair, and she tried to breathe in the way Mary Leigh had taught her—slowly, deeply. She didn’t need to be afraid of Cute Guy. Cute Guy was just here to bring her coffee and get directions and look amazing in a pair of jeans. It wasn’t the end of days. No need to panic or stock up on canned goods.
Her body didn’t get the memo, though, and she could barely get the words out. “Her office is at the other end of the hall. Last door before the big conference room. Knock first.”
But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at her computer screen, amusement dancing in his gold-green eyes. “If there’s such a thing as athlete’s foot, do you think one can…catch that in other places? I mean, maybe he should use a condom.”
She glanced at the computer. “Or a sock.”
The words had jumped out without her planning it, and his attention flicked to her, that infectious grin returning. “A sock.” He laughed. “Obviously. The only proper protection from a shoe.” He shook his head. “Why don’t I ever get spam that interesting? I just get offers from Russian models wanting to be my wife. They promise to”—he made air quotes with his free hand—“‘make me so happy in a special way.’ I’m assuming this means they make a kick-ass borscht.”
Hollyn pursed her lips at his faux Russian accent and looked down, wanting to laugh but knowing that if she did, it would come out like a parrot squawk with her muscles so tense. “Sounds like a good deal.”
“Right? I mean, the beet really is an under-appreciated root vegetable. I’m weighing all the offers carefully,” he said with mock seriousness and set the coffee on the corner of her desk, bringing the scent of his shower-fresh soap into her space. He put out his hand. “I’m Jasper, by the way.”
She stuck out her hand, knowing there was no way to avoid the handshake, and his warm, confident grip wrapped around hers, sending a zinging awareness straight up her arm and spreading through her chest. His gaze met hers and held, like he was trying to see inside her head, to read her. The connection was too intense, the eye contact impossible for her to hold. Her fingers wanted to count. She quickly released the handshake. “Thanks, for uh, bringing the coffee.”
“No problem.” He stepped back, giving her an expectant look, and then asked with a teasing tone, “And you are?”
She looked down at her hands, which were clenched tightly, and she realized that she’d let this go too far. If Jasper was new here and got the impression she was someone he could chat and joke around with, she’d have to go through this rush of anxiety every damn day at work. She needed to get better with people, but she couldn’t start with someone like Jasper. That would be like deciding to learn guitar and going straight to a Jimi Hendrix song. She needed to learn her chords first. Best to cut the hot new guy off at the pass.
“Busy,” she said flatly.
“You—” He paused, as if checking he’d heard her correctly. “Oh, right.”
She looked up, finding him frowning, and the room seemed to dim around her.
He squinted like he couldn’t quite tell if she was being serious, but then he pushed his shoulders back, straightening. “Yeah, well, sorry to bother you. Good luck with your…shoe-fetish guy.”
She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.
Jasper headed back toward the door, wearing the confused expression of a guy who wasn’t used to being shut down. And why would anyone shut him down? He was hot. He was funny. One of those people who was probably comfortable in any situation he walked into. He and Andi would get along great.
A pinch of jealousy made her gut tighten.
He stood in the doorway and jabbed his thumb to the left. “I guess I’ll go find Lucinda.”
He was giving her an opportunity to make things right. To undo her rudeness.
She couldn’t look him in the eye, and her urge to tic had hit the breaking point. She quickly turned her chair toward her laptop, putting her back to him. “Thanks.”
Her tone was clipped, dismissive.
“Sure. Okay.” There was a heavy beat of quiet as if he was going to say something else, and she braced herself. Some strange part of her wanted him to push back, to not let her off that easy, to not let bitch mode scare him off like it did everyone else, for him to see that she didn’t really mean it but didn’t know how else to get through this kind of thing. But then the door shut quietly behind her because what else could he possibly want to say to someone who wouldn’t even tell him her name?
There. It was done.
Jasper would turn into another coworker who would put a label on her—bitchy, awkward, snobby, weird, rude—one of the many adjectives that she’d been pinned with before. Didn’t matter which one he picked. This time she’d earned it fair and square, and it would keep him away.
Mission accomplished.
She should feel relief.
She peeked back over her shoulder. The hall was empty, and she slumped in her chair. She didn’t know why she felt so disappointed. As if she would’ve done anything but cower if he had still been standing there. It wasn’t like she could morph into another person, go after him, and be all, “Oh, so sorry, Jasper. It’s just been a bad morning. You know how it is. I’m Hollyn. Thanks so much for the coffee. Why don’t I show you around the building and introduce you to a few people? After that, we can grab some lunch and you can tell me all about yourself, and then I’ll tell you why we should start up a sordid office affair and hook up in the copy room. You like Thai food? Great, let’s go.”