My ears started burning. A sure sign I was blushing from head to toe. “No. I stayed at Emmett’s last night.”
Blake’s jaw ticked as he set his mug down very carefully and took a deep breath.
“Blake, I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions. I won’t let it affect work.”
He just sat there staring at me.
Jesus Criminy. I thought. I’ve never let a boyfriend interfere with my work. Not even when I actually had sex with them. Especially not after one sexless week of semi-dating.
Blake tilted his head to the side as if he was studying me. He held that position for a moment before shrugging and continuing to eat his donut.
“Soooo…” I drawled. “No comments? No yelling or teasing or anything?”
He smiled. “Nope. Like you said, you’re a big girl.”
Did he just call me a ‘big girl’? Shit. Maybe that’s why Emmett ran out last night. I am never getting naked in front of another man. Ever.
I looked down at my hands. And you, you little hussies, no more exploring the deep dark caves of Emmett’s pants! No matter how warm and hard and –
Blake spit his coffee out all over my counter.
Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?!
Eric continued to cough as he hurriedly cleaned up the mess.
Oh God. What did I say? Did I talk about Emmett’s dingaling?
Eric dropped his coffee mug, splattering his remaining coffee everywhere.
Wait a minute …
Blake was avoiding eye contact.
Eric Maxwell Blake. Can you hear me?!
He continued to clean up the spilled coffee, still avoiding eye contact.
Could you hear what I was thinking earlier about Emmett’s big, hard, throbbing-
“Alright, that’s enough!” bellowed Eric, his palms covering his ears.
“You son of a bitch!” I shouted. “How long, Blake!? How long!?”
He groaned and sat down. “It’s not something I can control, Anna. I do my best to block it out.”
Snippets of our conversation about Sophia flitted through my mind. “Wait … You said Sophia’s mind reading was hereditary. I figured you just meant super powers in general were hereditary, not specific ones. Oh my God!” I shrieked.
How many times had I imagined what Eric Blake would look like naked in the middle of a meeting? How many times had I considered shaving my pubic hair or doing more kegel exercises when he was in the room?
I began banging my forehead on the counter.
Blake stood and walked around behind me where he began kneading my shoulders. “Anna, it’s not a big deal. I don’t listen on purpose. I rarely hear things I don’t want to know.”
“Right, like the time you didn’t hear me thinking about whether your penis was a salami or a ‘lil smokey.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Blake’s eyes bulged and his hands faltered on their massaging. I covered my mouth with my hands to muffle my scream.
I can’t believe I just said that!
“I can’t either,” replied Blake.
I whipped around in my seat. “Stop that! Get out of my head! Get out of my apartment! Now!”
“Anna, calm down,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you. The fewer people that know, the better.”
“I can’t deal with this. You have to leave.” I pointed toward the door.
Blake let out a breath and turned toward the door. “I wish you’d just hear me out.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated on a mental picture of Honey Boo Boo’s mother riding a camel in a thong made of Redvines.
“Gah!” shouted Eric. “Okay! Shit! I’m leaving!”
I kept the gruesome image in my mind until I heard the door click shut.
Once alone, I groaned and rested my head on the cool countertop. I was mortified. Absolutely mortified. I pride myself in my professionalism at work. The only reason I’m professional at work is that I’m able to keep my thoughts to myself. Only apparently I wasn’t keeping anything to myself. It was a wonder I even still had a job considering all of the inventive ways I had imagined killing Eric Blake over the years. Even worse were the fantasies I’d entertained during staff meetings of having my way with him on every surface in the building. How could I face him Monday morning knowing he’d heard my perverted thoughts?
I needed to get drunk. Yep. That was the answer.
I texted Lea and Jo with a WINE911 message and went to change into my pajamas.
Thirty minutes later, my two best friends were in my kitchen armed with half a dozen bottles of wine and three pints of Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream.
It took nearly thirty minutes to explain everything that had happened since Monday, leaving out the part about Eric and Sophia reading my mind. By the time I was done, I was well on my way to be schnockered before 11am.
By the time dinner rolled around, I didn’t know my own name. That was a good thing, right? If I didn’t know my own name, I’d forget about Emmett’s mysterious disappearance and the fact that my boss was a mind-reading asshole. Enh! Wrong.
The girls ended up confiscating my phone so I wouldn’t keep texting Emmett. They forced me into a too short dress, which was not a good idea after consuming my weight in ice cream and donuts, and took me to our favorite watering hole for shitty bar food and beer.
The last thing I remember is ordering jaeger bombs for myself and a guy named Ned who kept playing with his nipple rings under his shirt.
12
Ice cream tubs really need to be face-sized.
I woke up Sunday morning to the sound of someone using a chainsaw in my bedroom. I peeked out from under my comforter to find Figaro kneading my pillow and purring outrageously loudly. That, combined with the monster headache that was sprouting, was enough to make me race to the bathroom to spew.
Not my finest moment.
After a quick teeth brushing, I laid back down on my bed and took stock of my body. My head felt like Chuck Lidell used it as a punching bag. My stomach was churning. I was wearing one thigh high stocking, a lace thong and a man’s undershirt.
A clang resonated from the kitchen and my heart plummeted to my stomach. I didn’t take Nipples Ned home with me, did I!? Oh shit fuck piss! I raced out to the kitchen, praying I’d find Jo or Lea making me breakfast to cure my hangover.
Fortunately, it wasn’t Nipples Ned.
Unfortunately, it was Eric Blake, looking absolutely sinful in sweatpants and no shirt. His back was to me and it looked like he was cooking something on my stove. I inhaled the scent of bacon and my stomach did a triple salchow.
“What are you doing here?” I groaned, trying to keep my cookies in my stomach and my eyes from wandering his muscled back.
“I’m here because you called me,” he answered, flipping the bacon.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
He turned around and smirked. “You took it.”
His eyes trailed from my face to my bare legs and back up. It wasn’t until then that I realized I hadn’t bothered to put on more clothes before searching out who was in my kitchen.
I lunged over to my sofa and grabbed an afghan to cover my lower half. Somehow I doubted Gran crocheted the blanket for me to hide my bare ass from my boss, but it did the trick. It didn’t do much for my nipples which were surely visible through Blake’s thin undershirt.
Once my legs were hidden, I got my first real look at Eric Blake standing in my kitchen with no shirt on.
I had imagined it plenty of times, but nothing came close to the reality of his perfect body. His wide, muscular shoulders led to the most gorgeous chest I had ever seen. His pecs were large and looked like they were carved out of granite. His skin was golden brown and his chest had a smattering of dark black hair that led down to his chiseled abs before disappearing beneath his waistband. I refused to let my gaze follow that line of hair. I mentally berated myself for even noticing.
Blake cleared
his throat and shifted his feet, snapping me back into the moment.
“What do you mean I took it?” I demanded. “I just pulled it right off of your body? Why were you here in that getup anyway?” I was beginning to sound delirious.
“You did just pull it off my body,” he answered. “I could have stopped you, but seeing as you were standing in front of me in your bra and panties, if you can even call that lace eye-patch underwear, I figured you needed the shirt.”
Oh. My. God. I came onto my boss. I’m so fired. Holy shitballs. I am never drinking again!
“Relax,” Blake soothed. “You didn’t come on to me. Much.” He winked and turned back to the bacon.
“Get out of my head!” I screeched before running to my room to put on something more presentable.
I returned five minutes later in sweatpants and my own t-shirt. Blake had eggs, bacon and toast on a plate waiting for me. He nodded toward the table and turned back to the stove to fill his own plate.
I walked over to him and hung his shirt over his bare shoulder. “Put this on. I can’t eat if you’re half naked,” I said before walking back to the table.
I poked at my eggs with my fork. There was an inhumane amount of cheese on them. “I can’t eat this. I just puked my brains out ten minutes ago.”
“You can and you will,” Blake replied, sitting down next to me. His eggs had noticeably less cheese than mine. “The fat and protein are good for your hangover. Take a bite. It’s not as bad as you think.”
I glared at him before forking up a glob of cheesy eggs and tentatively placing it in my mouth. It wasn’t that bad. Actually, it was pretty darn good. I gave it a moment to settle in my stomach before digging in and finishing my plate.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” asked Blake, smugly.
I shrugged. “It was fine. Let’s revisit why it is that you’re here.”
Blake sighed and pushed his empty plate away from him. “You called me last night at about 1:30am. The only words I could make out were ‘jaeger’ ‘nipples’ and ‘spandex’. I hopped in my car and headed over here to find you standing in your kitchen wearing only your underwear and trying to stuff your entire face in a pint of ice cream. Apparently you were out of spoons.”
That explained why I had sticky eyebrows.
I held my head in my hands and groaned as he continued.
“I told you to get some pajamas on. You wanted my shirt. You took it. Thankfully you turned around while you were putting it on. I made you drink a glass of water and tucked you into bed. I wasn’t sure how much you’d had to drink, so I checked in on you every couple of hours. I provided you with early morning eye candy. I made you delicious cheesy eggs. I think that’s about it.”
I opened one eye to look at him. “Did you see my boobs?”
His face split into a panty melting grin. “No. I was a gentleman. I only gawked at your ass.”
I laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Shut up, Blake. You can’t say that shit. You’re my boss.”
He shrugged and got up to clear the table. “It’s a Sunday. Today I’m just your friend.”
He rinsed the plates and loaded them into my dishwasher before crossing to stand by me. He crouched down to my eye level and pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Are you going to be alright? Minni has Sundays off so I need to get home.”
I nodded and let out a breath. “Yes. Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry for anything stupid I said last night. I shouldn’t have called.”
Blake stood and grabbed his keys from the counter. “Yes, you should have. You would have drowned in ice cream had I not saved you.”
“My hero,” I jeered.
“You should head to the gym today and sit in the sauna. It’s great for hangovers once you get past the first five minutes. You’ll sweat the toxins right out.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I replied. “Once I’m sure your eggy cheese settles, I’ll head over.”
“Good choice. Text me pics if there are any other ladies in the sauna today.” With one last wink, he walked out the front door.
The remainder of the morning crawled by at a snail’s pace. I sat curled up on my couch in the dark until noon, trying not to vomit. When I had successfully held down my breakfast for four hours, I grabbed my gym bag and headed for Vance Publishing.
There were only a handful of people in the gym, most of them the hardcore fitness types. Luckily, no one was in the sauna so I stripped down, wrapped myself in a towel and got comfortable on the hard wooden bench.
I quickly learned what Blake meant about just getting through the first five minutes. The steam swirled around in the small room, clinging to my skin and filling my lungs with what felt like cement. I was forced to concentrate on not allowing my breakfast to make a second appearance instead of enjoying my relaxation time.
Eventually the need to hurl passed and I was able to breathe deeply with no discomfort. Blake was right; it really did feel like I was sweating out the alcohol from the previous night. Thank God nobody else was in the sauna. I’m pretty sure I reeked of stale tequila and hot wings.
After thirty minutes I felt like the Swamp Thing. As I grabbed my towel and stood to leave, the lights flickered and then went out.
Awesome. Because saunas don’t make me claustrophobic enough, let’s blind me too!
I reached out to feel my way along the wall, searching for the exit. Suddenly, a large boom just outside the sauna door caused me to skitter back a few feet. I crouched low out of instinct and covered my head with my arms. Another crash rang out as the sauna door exploded inward. Clouds of steam rushed toward the door, swirling around a very large figure looming just outside the entrance.
“I warned you,” boomed a now familiar voice. “I don’t want to hurt you, Anna, but I warned you!”
“Who are you?!” I shouted. “What do you want from me?”
“It’s not you I want,” the voice answered. “It’s your friends. Stay away from them, Anna. I’m not warning you again.” The shadowy figure turned from the doorway and disappeared.
I struggled to my feet and ran toward the door, attempting to catch a glimpse of the man before he got away. As I rounded the corner into the hallway, the gym lights flickered back on. The man was gone.
“Damn it!” I shouted.
“Anna!?” Hot Ian rounded the corner and ran toward me. “Are you alright? What happened to the door!?”
“I’m fine. Ian, did you see a man running from this direction?”
Ian shook his head. “No. There are only a handful of people here today. As soon as the lights went out, I made my rounds through the locker rooms to make sure everyone was alright. I heard a boom down this hallway and ran straight here. Are you sure you’re alright?”
I nodded and tightened my towel around my chest. “I’m fine. I think I’ll go change and head out before the lights go out again.”
Ian smiled and leaned in for a hug before pulling away at the last moment with a wrinkled nose, apparently not a fan of my post-sauna hangover musk.
Not wanting to spend any more time than necessary alone in the gym, I skipped the shower and raced out to my Mini. As soon as I was safe inside, I dialed Eric and left him a message to call me back ASAP.
Before I left, I circled around the parking garage, looking for the black Jeep. After spotting only a couple compact cars and a sedan, I pulled out and headed for home.
I was just pulling into my parking space when my phone chirped with an incoming message from Eric Blake.
What’s up? Been at home with a sick Sophia all morning. She’s napping on my lap now. Can you text?
Summarizing one of the single most terrifying moments in my life into a text message proved to be harder than I thought. I settled for a short, simple response, hoping it would suffice until we could discuss it in person.
Zinger showed up at the gym. Shut the power down. Confronted me in sauna. Issued another warning. Left. I’m fine.
He has to have access to Vance Publishing if he was in the gym. I suppose he could have short circuited the security system wiring to gain access. Are you sure you’re alright? Do you want to come over?
I had to admit I was pretty scared. Zinger hadn’t made a move like he was going to hurt me, but the warning was enough to have me checking my closets and under my bed. Confident that there weren’t any super villains hiding in my loft, I texted Eric back.
I’m fine. I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to stay here. I’ve locked my doors and I have you on speed dial. I’ll call if I need anything.
This time it took a few minutes for him to write back.
If you’re sure. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.
I typed a response, assuring him I would do just that, and made my way meticulously through my loft, locking and relocking every door and window. Once I was sufficiently sure all of the entries were secure, I hopped in the shower to wash off the hangover sweat.
I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening huddled under Gran’s afghan and jumping at every sound I heard. Figaro was in seventh Heaven, kneading my legs and cuddling up, ignoring my jumps and twitches.
Needless to say, sleep didn’t come easy that night. I finally managed to fall asleep sometime after midnight and spent the early morning hours plagued by nightmare after nightmare about Captain Zinger electrifying anything from my door handles to the sprinkles on my donuts.
13
Welcome to the jungle.
Monday morning I woke up to a cat butt. Again. Why am I still surprised in the mornings? I shook off the night before and followed my usual routine of feline crunchies for Figaro and a protein bar for myself before heading to the gym.
I had just finished my warm up mile when Eric Blake climbed on to the treadmill next to me. I smiled at him and tried unsuccessfully to bump up my speed.
Power Surge (Anna Jennings Super Novel Book 1) Page 13