Page 29 of Abyss

A knock sounds at my door and though I don’t spare her a glance, the faint scent of vanilla and lemon permeates my workspace. Even in my peripheral vision, flashes of red, blue, and orange signal yet another of her strange outfits.

Unable to resist the temptation of the proverbial red flag, I turn to her.

Carrying a tall glass of my morning smoothie and what looks to be some sort of muffin, her honeyed eyes skate over me, like sunshine over cold terrain.

She places the items on the corner of my desk, and I take in the soft waves of her dark hair spilling over her shoulders onto a weathered orange shirt that says “Tropic Fever” on it. Her shirt is tucked into faded jeans, with an ugly red and blue flannel around her waist.

She’s just about to turn on her heel when I finally speak, averting my eyes to look at some papers on my desk as the voices coming through my speaker carry on about our quarterearnings. “Please take the smoothie with you, Ms. Jain. I’ve already had my breakfast.”

Her eyes linger on the glow of the red mute button on my speaker before she says, “Oh . . . but Belinda said—”

I lift a brow, pinning her with my glare. “Belinda has the morning off for her appointment, which is why she missed the email I copied you both on, saying I wouldn’t be needing my smoothie. What’s your excuse?”

Her mouth sets stubbornly, the tiny diamond over her lip stealing my attention momentarily. “I didn’t have a signal on the—”

I wave my hand, dismissing her. “That’ll be all, Ms. Jain. I don’t need to hear your sob story.”

Nostrils flaring, she reaches to lift the items off my desk when I notice the large scar running down her forearm in a rugged path.

I hadn’t seen it before, but then again, I wasn’t looking.

She’s about to turn back again when, for reasons only God can explain, I stop her once more, my molars grinding. “How’s your brother this morning?”

She glares at me. “Recovering. Thank you.”

She’s turning once more when I throw the pen in my grasp onto the desk. “And that scar on your arm . . .? What’s that from?”

Her mouth pulls into a frown, and if she had her hands free, I guarantee she’d try to cover her arm somehow. “Please. Don’t concern yourself with me or mysob story, Mr. Case. I wouldn’t want to take up your precious time.”

She’s almost at my door when I speak again. Why? I have no fucking idea. It’s like a part of me wants her so far on the other side of the earth, I’ll never find her, while the other can’t seem to get her close enough. “I said take the smoothie, not the muffin.”

Lips pursed, she turns yet again, and I swear, if she couldincinerate me with her glower, she would. Taking long strides, in those ridiculous shoes of hers of course, she places the muffin back on the corner of my desk.

I run my tongue over my teeth, feeling a strange sense of . . . excitement buzzing through my veins. “What kind of muffin is this?”

She tilts her head, amber eyes glowing. “Are you sure you want to eat it? I could have laced it with rat poison.”

My lips twitch, my eyes taking a leisurely stroll down her frame, my pants feeling tighter. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Apple cinnamon,” she announces in a somewhat bored tone, but I get the feeling she’s pleased I wanted it back.

I bring the plate forward, waving the back of my hand to her in a sendoff. “That’ll be all.”

She wraps her arms around her, my smoothie in one hand, before tilting her head. “Are you sure? Because you’re quite the chatty-Cathy today.”

I hear my name on the speaker, but it’s not anything I need to worry about, so I address her with my business tone again. “Please book our flights and hotel for tomorrow night—”

“I already did it after I got back inside last night.”

Oh. How late was she up?

“And what about your . . .” I trail her attire, “wardrobe? You can leave early to shop, if you need.”

“I know you’re probably running close to the upper edge of Gen X there, Mr. Case, but we no longer have to shop in-store, browse physical catalogs, or use carrier pigeons for our shopping needs. It can all be done on what’s called, theinternet.”

My lips twitch but I don’t release the smile trying to work its way out. “Please close my door on your way out, Ms. Jain.”

Chapter Ten

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