by Sandra Marie
The dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes, and he didn’t want to take advantage of the close quarters; a tired person was close to a drunk person, at least that was what one of his instructors said to him during a surgery simulation in his first year.
“So, Marvel Girl,” he said, straightening and searching for something to clean her up with. Good thing they were in a janitor’s closet. “The offer to use my suite still stands.” He snatched up a roll of paper towels and spun off a few squares.
“Huh?” she said, her eyes flicking over him as he cleaned her Coke stained arms, her brain seemingly trying to catch up to his train of thought.
“I know you’ve got a roommate. Maybe you need a few hours by yourself. Get some sleep?”
She blinked and shook her head, watching him smooth the paper towel down her forearm. “What are you gonna do?”
“Hang around the lobby. Make a few calls. Get plastered at the bar.”
She snorted. “Are you a fun drunk?”
“Depends on your definition of fun.”
Her tongue snaked out and wet her lips. “Maybe I’d rather do that with you.”
He was tempted to lock eyes with her again, but refrained, opting to start cleaning the floor instead.
She sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t sleep or drink tonight. I have to figure out this missing money thing.”
He frowned; she’d better be getting paid double time for the hours she was putting in. “You can use my room for that, too, if you like.”
“Really?” Her brown eyes met his, and before he fell under their spell, he cast his gaze to the much less attractive mop bucket. “Because I really could use a quiet space. The lobby will be packed with conference goers, and Julie always plans drinks and room service on the last night here with the other girls.”
“Really.” He reached for his wallet and retrieved one of the keys. “Message me when you’re done.”
“Life saver.” She tapped the key against her palm. “And I can order Ant-Man?”
He smirked. “Go for it. But you’ll owe me fourteen bucks.”
“Twenty-thousand from October…” Cassidy whispered to herself, bent over the kitchen island, scribbling on an orange Post-it. She ripped it off from the pad and stuck it with the plethora of others adorning Jon’s suite. “That makes…” Oh mother of Iron Man, she was well into the six figures now. Over the course of seven and a half years, the foreign code was used to balance out missing checks. The code was used under Hallie’s name for a little over two years, and then went to Bethany’s for about six months. After that, Shellie’s sign-in was all over the balances until Cassidy was hired.
Befuddling. That was the right word for the stupid code. It had Cassidy’s mind in a warp, and her gaze skated over and over all the sticky notes around her laptop, cascading across the countertop and spilling into the side of the sink. Like Jon had used this place to cook; he barely had time to sleep this week.
How in the world had no one noticed the missing funds? It’d been so obvious since Jon was brought into the practice; his numbers alone took up for half of what was gone last month.
Someone was stealing from the company that was for darn sure. Cassidy rolled her finger across a few Post-its all lined up together with timestamps of the code. The most recent was used just yesterday, under her sign-in. The billing girls were the only ones with access to this particular part of the system, Bethany and Hallie were too airheaded to pull off a scheme like this… or was that all part of an act?
She scrunched her brow, a tiny hammer chipping away at her skull. Maybe she still had access to the old system they’d used. It wasn’t until they’d switched over that the missing funds became a glaring, beaming light.
It was a long shot, but she pulled up her old sign-in and the old-as-heck system.
Access denied.
“Well, boo,” she pouted and blew a raspberry at the screen. As she was wiping the accidental spray on the bottom corner, her saving grace blinked back at her.
Print data backup
Yes, absolutely! Hallelujah. The prompt asked for specific dates, and thanks to her Post-it décor, she was able to put in just the ones she needed. Without the printer, though, she had to settle for the preview, adjusting her glasses as she leaned in and studied every inch of the codes for that billing cycle.
“There you are,” she said, hope flaring in her chest. She dragged her finger along the dotted line connecting the code to its description.
Bi-annual PAP.
Bi-annual pap smear? That wasn’t a thing; an annual pap wasn’t even a thing anymore. Cassidy alt-tabbed to Google, confirming that no pap smear was ever covered bi-annually unless it came back with concerning issues. There wasn’t a code for it in the new system, and yet, it’d been used time and time again.
She toggled over and checked out the code creator—something they’d all been trained on, but only Shellie had authorization to use. With a little bit of digging, Cassidy found herself staring at a page full of created codes, all from two IP addresses, and she would bet her life on which two they were.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, backing away from the screen. “Oh my gosh… I… I think I have it!”
The sun burst through her chest, and her hips started swaying of their own accord. She took a screen shot and saved, sending it off to Shellie with a billion exclamation points in the subject line. Dancing around Jon’s ridiculous suite, she tapped away a message, letting him know she was done keeping him out of his room.
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb were thieves, and she was about to put a hitch in their holiday plans. Served them right for what they’d done. No wonder they never cared to work very hard and took so many breaks during the day; they were collecting their money from the doctors’ pockets.
A raise had to be in her near future. With two billing girls down and money flow back on track, she hoped her brain had finally earned the paycheck it deserved. A “whoop!” escaped her, unable to stay behind closed lips any longer. A drink was in order. And a victory dance. And Ant Man.
As she spun around Jon’s ridiculously large suite, the door beeped open, and she threw her arms out wide.
“Guess who just saved the company?” she practically squealed, jolting Jon in the doorway. He looked way too good for someone who’d been in conference classes all day, his hair combed and styled, a button-down hanging casually out of his slacks, the sleeves rolled in the auto-drool position at the elbow crease.
Her excitement boiled over, and whatever control she’d had throughout the week was lost, and she tossed her arms over his shoulders, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“I found the culprits,” she said over his shoulder. “Those suckers aren’t going to see another day at the clinic after this, you bet your sweet butt.”
His laughter waved and warmed against her body. She squeezed him just a bit harder, memorizing the feel of him against her, wondering if she’d felt it before.
As her excitement alleviated, embarrassment crept into her cheeks, and she eased away from Jon.
Dr. Bateman.
Her boss.
He nodded toward the Post-it mess. “Like what you’ve done with the place.”
Damn, those green eyes. “It was a very productive evening.”
“Did you get some Ant-Man in?”
“Unfortunately, no.” She started plucking all her sticky notes off the counter, her heart thumping louder with every step Jon took to follow her. “But truth be told, my eyes could probably use a break from screens for a while.”
He smirked, and Cassidy tilted her head. What thought was going through that mind of his?
He took a spot opposite her, carefully pulling the Post-it’s off the edge of the sink. “At least you have your glasses tonight. Not those contacts that like to mess with your eyes even more.”
She stopped. Not just her hands, or her legs, or her mouth… but her heart, her brain, her stomach. “What?” she barely whispered.
He
didn’t look up from the Post-its. “You’re pretty blind without them, right?”
Her lungs were having the worst time functioning. “Right.”
Was he not going to elaborate on that? Was that just a well-known little fact about her, or was he hinting at something else? A Post-it crinkled in her hands as she twisted it into a snake-like origami.
“Have you had any time for Disney this week?” she asked, throwing the subject right into the tiny pit of knowledge she had about her Westley. The origami snake was now getting damp between her fingers.
He let out a soft snort. “Between patient check-ins and boring-as-hell classes, haven’t gotten to any movies. Disney or otherwise.”
Okay, he wasn’t taken aback by the question. That boded well.
Cassidy inched around the island, trying to casually drag her hands over the countertop, like she was only picking Post-its and not probing.
“Maybe you’ll have time tonight,” she said, her faux innocent tone unconvincing to anyone. Jon’s gaze finally moved up, meeting hers for the briefest moment before he handed her the stack of stickies he’d gathered.
“I don’t know… someone raved about the new Avengers movie nearly the whole party when I was with her. Maybe I should give it a shot so she gets off my case.”
Ho-lee Mo-lee.
Cassidy dropped the stickies and snatched his wrist, her palms shaking something fierce as she raised his hand to her neck. Her breath was locked away in her lungs, her heart in the Indy 500, her gaze on his as he stepped in and ran a thumb across her pulse.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, his fingertips caressing and soothing her skin, the memory of him doing this very thing two weeks ago as fresh now as it had been then.
Her senses intensified with heat as she felt him move in closer, sensed his mouth just inches from hers. She leaned up, her lips accepting his powerful kiss, her body melding with his. Her fingers curled into the fabric at his sides, pulling him in, melting into the gentle touch of his hands on her face.
She still couldn’t breathe, but she chose to use him for air, giving back as much as he gave her, tears creeping up to the backs of her eyes out of pure joy.
It was him. She’d crossed him out of her mind so many times, but there wasn’t a single doubt now.
She’d found him.
And she was going to kiss him as hard as she could… before she had to let him go.
Cassidy’s neck was as delicate under his fingers as he remembered. He traced her jawline as she moved her mouth to sync with his, their tongues seeking one another, heat arching across his skin.
He spun her around, backing her against the kitchen island. A soft moan of surprise escaped her throat, and he swallowed it up, running his hands over her shoulders and down the sleeves of her bulky sweater.
He’d completely lost hope of this moment ever happening again, storing the memory of Cassidy’s lips away as one of the best nights of his life, but now it had some tough competition. She was there, lips on his, hands roaming freely across his back and clutching his shoulders.
He couldn’t keep from touching every inch of her body that wasn’t covered by the adorable lounge wear she wore. Her neck was flush while her ears were cold. The skin on her wrists were peppered with goosebumps, her pulse jumping under his thumbs as he brought his attention from her lips to her palm, pressing soft, happy kisses against every part of her he could.
She cupped his face, her nails dragging through the hair at the nape of his neck, making it stand on end. He moved against her, his gaze locked on her innocent brown eyes. Fire ignited the chocolate color as he smoothed over the worn fabric of her bottoms.
“Watch the laptop,” she said, wriggling her nose against his. He matched her smile and granted her request, hoisting her petite and feminine body up onto the counter, sticky notes crumpling under her weight. He shoved her laptop to the side, making room for them to be as wild as they wanted… and he wanted to be wild. There was too much joy inside of him to be contained in soft and slow. A ravenous beast plowed its way to the surface, clawing for all of this woman it could devour in the undetermined amount of time he had. A flicker of fear that she’d bolt any moment underlined every kiss, every touch.
Relief that his feelings weren’t one-sided flooded his soul, and he gripped her hips and pressed a powerful kiss to her lips. They were tongues and heat and passion, and she pulled him closer, her arms latched around his neck, fingers pulling his hair and toying with his heart.
Every beat was for her, and he’d be happy if it beat every day of his life just the same.
He slid his grip down her thighs, hooking his fingers in the crooks of her knees and slamming her forward, a squeal of surprise and joy spilling from her lips. He smiled against them, then kissed a path down her luxurious neck, half-loving the bulky sweater that was completely who she was and half-hating it for covering so much of her silky skin.
“Why are you so… good at this?” she said with a hint of annoyance. He lifted his gaze and a brow.
“Would you like me to be bad at it?”
“It might even things out,” she teased, unaware of how irresistible she was. He reached for her hand, bringing it next to their faces, intertwining their fingers. He smirked, kissing that mustache tattoo.
“You’re much better than you give yourself credit for.”
“Oh yes, this is so sexy,” she said, tongue out as she pulled at her sweater and wiggled her mess of a hairdo. Jon swallowed hard and grabbed her face. He pressed another hard kiss to her lips, the edge of her glasses pushing into the bridge of his nose and only turning him on more.
“You have no idea,” he said.
“You must have a dork fetish.”
“Or a smart and fun woman fetish.”
“Woman.” She snorted. “Sounds so old.”
“You prefer young woman? Girl? Lady? Female?”
“Ew, stop.”
He chuckled and kissed her again, running his hands down her neck, over her shoulders, and settling on her hips. She had such a tiny waist, fragile… but he knew she was anything but.
Her nails tickled his five-o’clock shadow, equally relaxing him and revving him up. He could take her to bed and do nothing or do everything, and it would feel like the best night of his life. Being close with her in any capacity was a prize worth taking, and one he would not take for granted.
She deepened the kiss, and he matched her, his hands unable to hold her tightly enough. Her ankles locked around his hips, her arms holding tight to his shoulders and the back of his head. He loved that she seemed obsessed with his hair, pulling and smoothing through the strands, coaxing him into softer or harder kisses. She was definitely running the show, pulling his strings just like she had the night of the party.
He lifted her off the counter, spinning her to the nearest wall. His hands moved over her soft pants, catching on the corner of something sharp and sticky.
A hiss went through his teeth, and he pulled back, using the wall to keep Cassidy up while he examined his finger.
“You okay?” she said breathlessly.
“Your butt bit me,” he said, grinning as he showed her the tiny paper cut along the side of his finger.
Her brows pulled in, and she slid down his body, her feet and legs tangled between his on the floor.
“What in the world…?”
She twisted, examining her butt. Jon laughed and reached around, plucking the Post-it off her pants and holding it out in front of her nose.
“Hmm,” she said, taking it from him. “A Z11.3 code…”
“And what’s that?”
Her eyes widened, and she leaned in. “Gonorrhea.”
He suppressed his laughter. “We better cool it, then.”
She nodded, pursing her lips together and letting the Post-it float to the floor. “Don’t want anyone talking about us, right?”
Her lips met his, but he pulled back, worry filtering into his chest. “Why not?”
“Wha
t?”
“Why don’t we want anyone talking about us?”
Her arms slid from his shoulders, a cool breeze replacing her touch. The air in the room shifted, thick with unease. Jon quickly reached for her hand, locking her fingers, fear curling its rotten fist around his throat. He could sense her feet about to take off, her body turning toward the door, her mouth infuriatingly silent as she left him again without an explanation.
He couldn’t stand another two weeks of indifference toward him, not when he knew they had this connection together, not when he was falling in love.
“I better go back to my room,” she said, wriggling from his hold and ducking under his arm. She fumbled for her laptop and Post-its, gathering what she could with shaky hands.
He wanted to step in front of the door, but his feet stayed planted. He didn’t want to stop her if she wanted to go, but he felt he should get a reason, see what he’d done.
“Why…” he managed before clearing his throat. “Why do you keep running from me?”
She stopped, her back to him, her laptop hugged to her chest, stickies hanging off each finger. A Post-it was stuck to her upper thigh; he doubted she was aware, and he wondered how funny it would’ve been to find another in the heat of the moment.
“I need to know what I did… what I’m doing,” he pleaded. “I… I really like you, Cassidy. If you don’t feel the same, if you just want to… I don’t know, mess around—”
She spun on her heel, brow pinched deep, eyes a sure-fire look into hell itself. He immediately wanted to eat his words.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she spat. “I’m not messing around with anyone.”
“Right. I’m sorry.” He gulped, head racing, trying to find an explanation. Cassidy’s face softened, and she turned, falling against the door and letting out a long sigh. “I dated all those guys, looking for you.”