Page 2 of Susie's Orc

I swear on my employee-handbook I’m not usually this much of a freak, ogling my poor, innocent coworkers, and there’s no earthly reason I should be fixated on Jonah from Accounting’s hands.

I’m just sitting here, supposedly listening to Carol from Accounting talk about the new accounts receivable process—or was it accounts payable? I honestly can’t remember—while also privately fantasizing about an orc in ill-fitted khakis who’s just minding his own damn business.

And I’m so busy gawking at his fingers that I take a horrible, life-ruining amount of time to realize I’m not being as sneaky as I think I am.

Oh, my god.

I look up from Jonah’s hands to find him staring at me. He has one eyebrow cocked as he looks from me to his fingers and back again, mouth in a slight frown around his tusks, like he’s trying to figure out what’s got me so focused on him. I can’t help but follow his gaze down to where his hands rest on the table.

And then those damned fingersflexand I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

To make matters worse, I glance back up at him, and all the confusion on his face is gone. In its place is pure, amusedknowing, and my entire body breaks out in a flash of heat.

Making myself turn away from him, I stare unseeing toward the front of the room, and a silent stream of pleading begins in my brain.

A fire alarm. A sinkhole. A portal to hell. An earthquake to bring the whole building down around me. Anything,anythingto get out of this meeting would be a blessing.

For the last ten minutes of the training, I look straight ahead, pretend I’m paying attention to Carol, and wish to any gods who might be listening that this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll wake up any moment now.

And still, those hands are there. Stretched out in front of him, clasped together with his big fingers intertwined, taunting me.

I flee the meeting room the moment the presentation is finished, and make a beeline for the nearest bathroom. It’s blessedly a single room with a locked door rather than a long line of stalls, and I pace back and forth across it, trying to get a handle on myself. After turning on the sink and splashing some cool water on my face, I stare at myself in the mirror.

The same persistent, blaring thought rings through my brain.

What iswrongwith me?

I’ve never been this mindlessly, viscerally attracted to someone, let alone to someone’s freakinghands, but that’s no excuse for what a creep I just was to Jonah. Another thought occurs to me as I stare at my flushed skin and bright, shame-filled eyes.

How long has it been since I got laid?

That the answer isn’t immediately obvious tells me everything I need to know. It’s been way, way too long. Not that it’s an excuse to objectify Jonah and his sexy hands, but maybe the two-year-long dry spell I’m in has something to do with my temporary insanity.

My mind flashes back to the meeting room, to Jonah, and before I can think better of it, I let myself sink into the memory.

It wasn’t just his hands. The knowing look in his hazel eyes behind the wire frames of his glasses, the way one of his eyebrows quirked up so high it almost touched the black, slightlyshaggy hair over his forehead, the smirk set on his surprisingly full lips.

Fuck… just, fuck me and my stupid crush and whatever streak of insanity made me decide today was the day I was going to get bold and sit next to him.

Turning off the water, I dry my hands and face with a paper towel and slowly open the bathroom door. After making sure the coast is clear, I book it back to my desk in the Community Outreach department, which is on the other side of this floor from Accounting.

I don’t see Jonah again, and thank god for that. Maybe I’m going to make it through the rest of this day unscathed.

I’ll get out of here at five on the dot, retreat to the small apartment where I’ve lived by myself for the last couple years, and spend the weekend hibernating. I’ll pretend that none of this ever happened, and maybe by Monday, Jonah will have forgotten, too.

Chapter 2

Jonah

There’s a spreadsheet open on my computer, but I can’t see any of the numbers. It’s all gibberish, a nonsensical mess to my scattered, racing mind.

The ambient sounds of a Friday afternoon at the office filter in, but I can barely hear it. At least not over the low pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

Every one of my senses feel dulled and sharper at the same time, closed off from the world around me and still entirely focused on what happened in Conference Room B a few minutes ago.

Didthat just happen?

Did I really just sit next to Susie Grove in a meeting and…

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