Merry and Bright(61)

“Neither was I.”

He laughed softly, and again the sound scraped at a spot low in her belly. “All work and no play . . .” he began.

“Makes me feel worthwhile.”

“Do you ever let up on that self-control?” He looked genuinely curious. “Just to enjoy yourself?”

“I don’t like to deviate from a plan.”

“Don’t I know it,” he said with feeling, reminding her of all the times they’d gone head to head over one of her “plans.”

“If I’m driving you so crazy, why are you here?” Using words like exclusive?

He stepped close. “Oh, you’re most definitely driving me crazy.”

“Then why—”

He put a finger to her lips, his touch making her heart race, reminding her how much her body craved him. “You’re also making me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time,” he said. “I like you, Cami. A lot, I’m finding. Now, about deviating.” He cupped her face. “Buckle in, because this is a big step off the planned path for the evening.”

“Matt—”

He kissed her. It was another of those soul-deep connections that had her hands lifting of their own accord, anchoring her to him as her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders. A soft little murmur escaped her, horrifying in its dark neediness, but there it was. Undeniable.

She wanted this more than the donuts, and that was saying something. She held on tightly, purring in pleasure when his hands roamed up and down her back, squeezing her bottom, her hips, up to her breasts. His thumbs made a pass over her nipples, and when he found them hard, he let out a rough sound that rumbled from deep in his throat.

She let out a matching moan when she heard it, and the desperation behind it, and she pushed at him.

He lifted his head, looking hot and bothered and extremely sexy for it.

She staggered back against the refrigerator, feeling drugged. And achy, deliciously so. “That’s . . .” Words failed, so she just fanned the air in front of her hot face.

He wasn’t breathing any more steadily than she was. “I see what you mean about planning.” His voice was husky and aroused. “If we’d planned that, maybe I wouldn’t feel as if I’ve just been hit by a bus.”

“There’s no plan in the world that can prepare you for that.”

“Which proves that it’s okay to wing it once in a while.”

“I can’t argue with you when my brain is fried.” She poured herself a large, cold drink of water. It didn’t cool her off. “I need to do something organized right now,” she decided.

“Right now?”

“Right now.” She opened the drawer by the sink. A mess. Perfect. She began to straighten the forks and spoons and pencils and matches, pulling out a Christmas CD that someone had shoved in and forgotten.

Matt leaned against the counter. “Let me get this straight. You can face the entire town council and argue a point until their eyes cross, but you can’t face me?”

She stilled her fingers, hating her weaknesses. “You’re right. I should do my own office first.” She marched out of the break room and into her office. “Go home,” she said when he followed her so closely she couldn’t get her door shut without taking off his nose. “Get some sleep.”

“I’d rather watch you organize your already perfectly organized office.”

Jaw set, she went to her desk, pulling her top drawer open. Damn if every single thing wasn’t already in place.

“So you’re obsessive-compulsive as well as anal,” he said conversationally.

“I organize when I’m nervous or upset. It’s no big deal. I’m sure you do something for your nerves, too.”

“Sure. Face the problem.”

She whipped up her head, met his gaze.

“Talk to me,” he said softly.

She looked down at the pencils and pens carefully set in their proper slots. She had one for erasers, too. And her tape. Her stapler. Everything was perfectly aligned.

“Cami.”

In spite of his sincerity, she still hesitated. This wasn’t an easy admission. “I used to be fat,” she finally said. There. She said it out loud for the first time. “All throughout my childhood and school years. I was the fat kid in a fit, active, successful family. They were all perfect, and I wasn’t.” He wasn’t running for the hills yet, so she went on. “Then I left home and went to college, out of the reach of my parents and brother and sister. I lost fifty pounds and got control of myself.” She straightened her shoulders. “Being in charge and organized and controlling is who I am, and I realize you might see it as neurotic, but being this way makes me feel good about myself.”

“You should feel good about yourself.”

She didn’t dare look at him or absorb his approval. “Once in a while I let myself relax, I let myself cheat. So I am warning you now, the next time you offer me donuts, be prepared to lose your fingers.”

He didn’t laugh or mock her. He didn’t even smile. Instead, he stepped closer, lifting her chin with a finger. “We grew up in the same town, remember? I know how you used to be.”

“You know I used to be fat?”

Now that finger traced her hairline. “I played basketball with your older brother. You came to the games.”