Accidentally Amy(24)

The light changed, and they started walking again. Blake said, “If you wanted to have it towed to my place, I could take a look at it.”
That made Izzy stumble in the middle of the street, which made Blake grab her arm and say, “Easy, Shay.”
Easy, Shay. Good God - what was he trying to do to her? Since the moment she’d met him, his entire existence had been an assault on her ovaries. And now he was going to add car-fixing and stumble-stopping to the dopamine equation?
She needed holy water or garlic STAT, although that fleeting sarcastic thought brought to mind an image of Blake having unholy water poured over his massive chest like some kind of hot guy wet t-shirt contest participant.
So garlic it is.
Izzy was disappointed when he released her arm, which was a ludicrous reaction, so she said, “I don’t think that’s probably allowable. But thank you.”
He gave her an eyebrow raise and said, “Why not?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, it just seems too personal.”
He grabbed the sleeve of her coat and tugged. It startled her, the jerking motion that moved her a little closer to him, but his mouth slid into a smirk before he started pulling her along behind him as he walked toward the alley to their right.
“What are you doing, Phillips?”
“Getting you to listen to reason before we go back to work, Shay.”
He let go of her sleeve once they were out of foot traffic. He took off his sunglasses, and she felt the gold flecks of his intense brown eyes as he said, “Hear me out. I’m still all-in on rule-following for us, but you’re my friend, Iz. If I can fix your car and save you a fortune, why wouldn’t that be okay?”
Because it would feel like…something. Something from a daydream about boyfriends working on their girlfriend’s car.
Side note: Every time he called her “Iz,” a sex angel got its wings.
“Because of money, maybe?” She couldn’t think all of a sudden, but she knew there was a reason. Reasons...reasons...what were reasons again? She cleared her throat and said, “You’re my boss, so there’s got to be a rule about me paying you for services.”
“Like I’d charge you,” he said, sounding disgusted and his eyebrows slammed down.
“Well I would have a rule about that, then, Blake,” Izzy said, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking up at his perfectly-trimmed stubble. “No way would I let you fix my car without paying you.”
“Then you can pay me with a favor,” he said, and she watched as it hit. He’d said it innocently, casually offering to work for nothing, but his eyes got hot when he realized. His voice sounded deeper, rougher, when he responded with, “I’m sure I can come up with something.”
The air in the alley suddenly got thick and quiet, like they were underwater. The city sounds disappeared, and Izzy swore she could hear her heart beating and her breath catch. She swallowed, and her voice was husky when she said, “I’m sure you can, too.”
“If we were alone,” he growled, his voice nearly a whisper as his mouth lowered to her ear. “I think we could negotiate a very good deal.”
“I know we could,” Izzy said, her eyelids heavy as she felt his breath on her neck.
Every nerve ending in her body was crackling and straining toward him, and she was almost lost to it when she heard a car horn in the distance.
Yes, you’re in an alley, dumbass.
Izzy’s eyes went wide and she sucked in a breath. “Which is why we need to get back on the sidewalk now."
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “We’re in the center of the city during lunchtime on a weekday - far from alone. I think we’re safe.”
“You don’t think this alley feels private?” She blinked, feeling disoriented as he pointed that gaze at her, and she breathed, “I feel all alone in the dark with you here.”
The instant it left her mouth she regretted it, because Blake’s languid smile dropped away. His jaw clenched and he just looked at her for a few seconds before he said, “Izzy--”
“Ohmigosh - I have to get back.” She pasted a grin on her face and took a step back from him, mortified. Obviously she’d been the only one on the verge of combustion, and she needed to get the hell out of there. Her voice was too loud and perky when she said, “You may be able to take long lunches because you’re Mr. Fancy VP, but this lowly generalist has to be on time. I’m going to sprint back and I’ll see you later.”
His eyebrows went down again. “Iz--”
“Bye!” Izzy turned and literally started slow jogging, knowing she looked like a moron but unable to stop herself because she needed to put space between herself and Mr. Chest.
All she wanted in her quiet little life was to keep her friend Blake and to embark upon a promising career at Ellis, but if those things were going to happen, she needed to find a way to be cool when she was close to him.
There had to be a way to speak to him without melting into an endorphin-riddled puddle of goo, right?
It wasn’t until she got back to her office – sweaty and still embarrassed - and sat down behind her desk that she saw he’d sent a message.
Blake: I have a Plan B, Iz, so don’t freak out. Can I call you at six?
Plan B? What did that mean? Izzy sighed and contemplated not responding, but texted: I’ll be dining with The Darkling, but I suppose he won’t mind if I take a call.
Blake: Excellent. Also, you looked VERY cool slow-jogging through midtown in high-heeled boots, FYI.
Izzy: Oh, I know.
Izzy logged back into her computer and was just getting started on a headcount report when her phone buzzed again.