I didnt know you read Chinese. Hed risen and was looking over my shoulder.
I glanced down at the booklet in my hand. Rows of Chinese characters danced across the page. I snapped the booklet shut. I was studying the diagrams. I pointed to the snarl of cables streaming out from under my desk. Dont you think you should do something about all that?
Your usual sunny self, I see. He kneeled and began fiddling with something under my desk. And here I thought we were going to be friends.
I didnt want to be friends with Jeff Fischer. He was too young, too good-looking, too full of himself, too male. Men were not at the top of my list these days. I kicked at the tangle of cables. How am I supposed to get any work done with everything scattered all over the place like this?
Ill have it all back together in no time. His head disappeared beneath the desk once more.
With this new system, youll be faster than ever. He reached up and patted the desktop. Have a seat and keep me company.
I backed toward the door. Maybe Id better leave you alone to do your work.
I work better when I have a pretty woman to talk to.
I resented the flutter that ran through my stomach. As if a compliment from a smart-ass like him meant anything. I told myself I was only staying because if I went back up front Joan would put me to work labeling urine samples, or filing test results or some equally odious chore.
So I took a seat on the desk, next to a canvas satchel that spilled tools across the desktop. It wasnt the most comfortable position. My feet didnt touch the ground, which left my legs swinging practically in Jeffs face. Why had I decided this was a good day to wear my chartreuse-with-white-polka-dots slip dress?
Thats better. Jeffs gaze traveled from my exposed knees to my ankles. Very nice.
He grinned in a way that might have been lecherous on someone who didnt already look like an Eagle Scout. How old are you? I blurted.
He arched one eyebrow. Old enough to know my way around.
No really. How old?
Im twenty-six. He said it as if he was announcing a winning Lotto number. How old are you?
Too old for you. I inched farther away from him.
I prefer experienced women. He went back to operating his screwdriver.
Experienced? Was that anything like a used car being experienced? Or did I look like a woman whod been around the block a few times? What makes you think Im experienced?
Lets just say you dont strike me as a recent escapee from a convent.
Someone told you I was divorced. That Michelle
No, I didnt know that. I was thinking more about the hickey on your neck.
I clapped my hand to my neck so hard the skin stung. Heat washed over me and I knew my face was bright red. I do not have a hickey! Where would I have gotten one? I hadnt been intimate with a man since. A sick feeling washed over me as I recalled my prelunch wrestling session with Dr. P. The bastard.
Jeff stood and dropped the screwdriver into the tool bag. Its not that noticeable, he said. Its just
above your collar, rightthere. His finger brushed across my skin, a feather touch that made every nerve ending vibrate with awareness. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, but all that did was draw his spicy, exotic, masculine scent into my lungs. I stared at the V of naked chest showing in the open throat of his shirt and fought the insane urge to plant a kiss rightthere.
Hormones. That had to be it. They were like ants. Theyd been fine, not bothering me at all in the year since Steve had called it quits. Content to go about the business of doing whatever hormones were supposed to do in the body. And then the stud here had disturbed them. One touch from him and the hormones had come to life like an anthill stirred with a stick. And they apparently werent going to calm down anytime soon. I wouldnt be safe around any being with a hint of testosterone. The next thing I knew, Id be leering at old men in elevators and flirting with the teenager behind the counter at McDonalds.
I have to go. I slid off the desk, scattering three screwdrivers and a socket set in my hurry to escape.
I fled to the ladies room and contemplated my red face in the mirror. Wincing, I pulled back my hair and studied the purpling love bite. That no-good Dr. Lech. I ought to
Phoebe, hurry up in there. Michelle pounded on the door. I have to go.
I grabbed my purse and groped through it, in vain hope Id find a scarf to cover the evidence of a definite lapse in judgment. But I didnt wear scarves. I searched the supply cabinet mounted over the toilet. Nothing but half a box of tampons, two cans of hair spray, six rolls of toilet paper and a pink toothbrush. Short of wrapping toilet paper around my neck, I was stuck.
I opened the door and sidled past Michelle, my head down so that my hair fell forward to cover the side of my neck. Are you okay? she asked.
Im fine. Do we have any bandages?
Sure. In the lab. Over the sink. Did you cut yourself?
Just a paper cut, I mumbled, and hurried to the lab.
I was studying my reflection in the paper-towel dispenser, making sure Id covered the mark, when Michelle came into the lab. You got a paper cut on your neck?