Page 32 of New Nebraska Heat
She followed my lowered tone, whispering, “Well, obviously, with it being the New Nebraska flag, it seems appropriate enough. It’s got a symbol of every single paranormal race woven into it. Faes, shifters, vamps, many of the different elementals, like normal, so I’d say it’s—” She peered, her eyelids narrowing. “But…”
Saying nothing, letting her mull over what she was scrutinizing, I waited patiently.
She kept staring, a look of confusion contorting her face.
“What do you see?”
“There’s an almost microscopic bird discreetly hidden in it. I can barely see it. But it’s there. And below that, something that looks like a tiny row of ancient Roman columns peeking between the racial symbols? Again, it’s so small. It’s hard to be sure, but what I’m seeing doesn’t seem to represent any particular race. I’ll need a closer look to be totally sure.”
I nodded. “You’ll get one. Several up close, believe me. I’m going to ask that they send us the design mockups. I just wanted to see if you could make it out from a distance. Like a normal viewer would.”
She looked at me and returned the nod. “It’s almost imperceptible, but something’s different from the normal elements in the flag.”
Damn, she was even sharper than me. I’d only noticed it after several months, not expecting any Midas-related imagery to be pushing Temple propaganda, and she’d done it in a hot minute.
“I’d love your opinion on this. I’m thinking we ditch the flag theme and make something unequivocally neutral. Maybe focused on Midas or the beauty of our new state itself. That’s why you and Seb are—”
The delicate tap of Monique’s heels approached from the opening elevator shaft. Her slot, a full hour of commentary, cunningly laced with pro-Temple drivel on most days—something that had gotten worse recently, as if she’d grown emboldened—was up next. I sighed inside. She thought she was so important, indispensable. I could have fired her stuck-up, prejudiced ass on the spot.
She was just lucky that I respected a strong work ethic and believed in second chances. Plus, it was hard to find experienced newscasters in New Nebraska that weren’t sympathetic to the views of the Temple. Or worse, happy to further the Temple’s cause to keep the races divided.
At least with Monique, I knew what I was getting. Better the devil you know. And anyway, I planned to replace her with Seb or someone similar soon enough.
Monique made no attempt at masking our presence, her tone not blaring but hardly hushed. She’d put on her flirty smile, which had the opposite effect on me. It bothered me she thought I could be swayed by her beauty and overly familiar manner. “Mr. Harding? I was wondering if I could take you to lunch later. Have that chat?Only if you have time, of course. I realize a man in your position always has many obligations.”
She didn’t even address Serenity or apologize for interrupting. She was such an entitled brat. “Not today.” I wanted to take Serenity out to lunch and I probably had a million things to catch up on after being out all morning. “We’ll have our talk soon enough.”
Flailing her silk-clad arms around, her icy fingernails inches from me as she beamed and flirted —Monique and her bird brain had clearly not read the email memo that I liked employees to avoid hand gestures while being anywhere near me—I took a couple of steps backward.
Problem was, with the lighting being so low, I didn’t see one of the camera’s thick rubber cables that was snaked in a circle near my feet. I tripped over it, and with nothing around to grab onto, I stumbled.
Serenity reached out to steady me before I tumbled onto the concrete floor.
A thin sliver of my exposed skin came peeking out between my glove and suit sleeve, and Serenity’s soft clasp reached out, holding it. “No!” I shouted, causing the camera people to turn their heads, and the reporters to pause and gawk.
We’d touched. Our skin had made direct contact. Terror spiked through my chest. I waited for the crushing agony, for Serenity to be rolling around on the floor, screaming and—
Her fingertips were a brush of suede, her grip a velvet ribbon around my wrist, spreading tingles up my arm, not of suffering but simple, soft sensation. Easy and painless as slipping on one of my gloves. Euphoria erupted through my heart, each rapid beat an exaltation, pumping fiery blood around my body at a fierce rate that burned away my disbelief. She had touched me! And neither of us burned. This tiny exchange, over in seconds, was perhaps the most precious moment of my entire life.
Serenity let go, her face frowning, apologetic, returning toformality. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harding. It looked like you might have taken a nasty fall. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You don’tevertouch the boss,” Monique scolded, her bright blue eyes layering even thicker into ice as she scowled. “Should I call someone for you, sir? Did she hurt you hurt?”
My body burning with intense pleasure, I somehow managed to answer Monique’s question, waving her away, not wanting her to know what had happened. “It’ll be fine, Ms. Glenmore. My glove stopped any direct contact.”
It hadn’t, and I would be forever grateful for my stumble. For Serenity’s brief but heavenly hold on me.
Monique peered at me with narrowed eyelids. “Are you sure, sir? It looked like there might have been some contact with your skin.”
Flustered, my flame-incased brain still trying to process what had just happened, I replied politely but sternly. “I said it’ll be fine, thank you. Your slot’s coming up. You’d better head off. No need to concern yourself.”
“Well, if you’re sure—”
“Quite sure. I better head back to my office anyway. Have a good day.Goodbye.”
Monique’s eyes were still glazed in ice as we walked past her toward the elevator.
“Serenity, thank you for caring enough to stop me from taking quite a tumble.” I leaned in to whisper, nearly brushing my suit jacket with her sweater.
