Page 93 of The Bet
“Here.” She held it out to him, and he sat up, paused the TV, and looked it over, flicking through the pages, and making appreciative noises in his throat.
“Hey,” he said, finally looking up at her. “This is impressive. You’ve done an amazing job.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, but was glad he liked it. All she wanted was to go home, and she was getting antsy to leave.
“What’s this?” He stared at one of the charts she’d created. When she didn’t sit down on the couch to see, he stood up and pointed his finger at the chart. “This seems unnecessary.”
“I can take it out if you want. I figured it showed your data off better than being in tabular form.”
He nodded in agreement. “It does look better,” he murmured, then turned a few more of the pages. “Would you—” he seemed to hesitate. “Would you mind doing that with the other tables? You’re right. It does look so much better.”
She had been thinking of it, but had only done the one. Now she wished she’d hadn’t done it at all.
“Or you can show me how to do it,” he offered, as if he had sensed her reluctance.
“I can do it.”
“It would help.”
“I said I’d do it.”
“Then don’t look so pissed about it.”
“I’m not pissed,” she retorted.
“Then at least smile, to prove it.”
But a smile, for him, wasn’t going to happen easily. She managed a forced grimace before turning around to leave.
“You don’t have to rush to do it now.”
“You need it for tomorrow.”
“Just chill for a while. You’ve been working solidly for the past few hours.”
“I don’t see that I had any choice, and I’d like to go home as soon as I’ve finished.”
“At least sit down and take a break for a while.”
“And talk to you?”
“You could do worse.”
Before she tried to get her head around the words, before she tried to figure out if it was innuendo, or a flirtatious response—the only types of response Xavier seemed capable of giving—he said, “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know what it is, Laronde, but you make me say things I don’t mean.”
“There’s no point in using your pick up lines on me, Stone. They don’t work.”
“Who said I was using a pick-up line?”
Their gazes locked.
The way his eyes were pinned on her, soft, and searching, she couldn’t make out if he was being serious, or silly.
But she knew that she couldn’t stand here gawking at him all day, especially with the way her stomach suddenly felt all light and airy. “I’ll get this done,” she said, stepping away, hastily.
“Suit yourself.”
“And get the hell out of here,” she mumbled under her breath.
