Accidentally Amy(10)

What was he, the freaking king? He was sitting in a conference chair, just like everyone else, but there was something about him that just screamed LEADER. Maybe it was his posture, the superhero-esque girth of his stupendous chest, or the confident intelligence in his stare; she didn’t know what “it” was, exactly, but the man held the room.
He was dressed impeccably again - perfect suit (charcoal this time), pressed shirt, tie - but he was wearing glasses that day. A pair of stylish frames sat atop his strong nose, making him look like the most intelligent human hottie in the cosmos. He looked smart and so sexy that she wondered how many women in that room were fantasizing about him that very minute.
She would guess all of them, and could definitely confirm one (her).
As if hearing her thoughts, his eyes locked on hers. Kelli answered his question, and he appeared to be listening, but his eyes were just a little to the left of Kelli’s location, wholly focused on Izzy while his jaw did that little flex/unflex thing.
Whoa.
If the man was intriguing when he was being charming in an elevator, he was downright mesmerizing when looking at her as if a myriad of thoughts he was unwilling to share were being tossed about in his mind. Izzy rolled in her lips and met his gaze, lifting her chin a little just to make sure he didn’t think he intimidated her.
“Does that answer your question, Blake?” Kelli asked.
He gave a nod. “Yes - thank you, Kelli.”
Izzy looked back at her notepad before picking up her pen and going back to note-taking. She had to do something, anything, or else she’d probably just stare at Blake until someone confronted her for the harassing implications of her licentious stare.
When the meeting finally ended, she followed Pam out the door, wondering how many people were exiting between her and Blake.
Was he still lingering in the back of the conference room, discussing data with the people who cared about data, or was he exiting right behind her, his big body mere inches from hers?
A tiny shiver slithered down her spine at the thought, and she rolled her eyes at her idiocy as she headed back toward her office. Unfortunately, the tie on the back of her straightjacket sweater caught on the door hinge, jerking her backward.
“Gah!” She looked down at where she was connected to the door just as Blake was approaching the doorway, talking to two other well-suited executives.
She looked over her shoulder, reaching a hand around to un-tether herself as quickly as possible.
“Izzy?” Pam said, stopping and turning around.
Blake and his cohorts reached the doorway at that moment, and Izzy watched his eyes absorb her situation in a split-second. He almost looked like he was going to smile - almost - before he said, “Hang on.”
He stepped closer, his cologne swirling around her sensibilities like some kind of olfactory roofie, before he said, “Looks like you’re stuck.”
“Little bit,” she said, feeling like an idiot.
“Here.” If it were anyone but Blake, she knew she wouldn’t have felt his fingertips. He unhooked her tie from the hinge in a half-second, freeing her; his touch was purely utilitarian. But his left hand - just the tippiest tips of his fingers - had rested on her lower back for the millisecond it’d taken for him to disengage her from the door.
And now she’d be reliving that tiny bit of fingertippy non-foreplay for the rest of the day.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling politely before taking off in the closest thing to a sprint she could manage while wearing three-inch pumps.
The rest of the day was blessedly uneventful, with nary a Blake sighting, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Pam had intimated on Izzy’s first day that they didn’t see him very often in their department, and even though he was droolworthy eye candy that made her fantasize about hot sex in storage closets, she was glad to hear it.
Because men like Blake turned women like Izzy into bumbling idiots, and she had no interest in playing that part. She felt as if Ellis could be a career launchpad for her, a place for her to build her professional foundation and begin her climb, and she wasn’t going to let AVP Blake’s hotness screw it up for her.


    

Blake
Blake pulled out his phone and texted: I just finished cleaning up cat vomit, in case you’re wondering how my night is going.
He sat down on his sofa, feeling restless. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with seeing Izzy/Amy at work, not hearing from her since he’d gotten home, or the real-life reality that he’d just cleaned up four separate spots of disgusting cat vomit, but he felt like he needed to do something.
His phone buzzed.
Amy: Take solace in the fact that I am wildly jealous that you’re in your warm abode right now, cleaning up yack. That sounds heavenly.
He texted: Where are you right now?
Amy: Let’s just say I’m taking a walk.
He glanced toward the wall of windows on the back side of his condo and texted: In the rain?? In the dark??
Amy: It wasn’t my number one choice, but I’ll be home soon and will probably drown to death in the hot shower I will refuse to ever leave.
Thunder rumbled, and he watched lightning flash through the sky. He messaged: Are you serious right now?
Amy: It’s no big deal. My car died, but I’m almost home.
Not only was it pouring, but it was kind of a violent electrical storm, and she was out walking in it? Alone? In the dark? He texted: How close are you?
Amy: I’ll be home in twenty.
He responded with: Twenty minutes?
He grabbed his keys off the coffee table and stood.
Texted: Drop me your location.
Amy: No - I’m fine.