He read her text three times over despite its simplicity, searching for any hidden resentment in her words.
It was impossible, and trying was more than a little pathetic. For a second, he let his finger hover over the call button.
Fuck it. A phone call wouldn’t be good enough, either. If she was printing out photos, that meant she was in her photography studio. If he hurried there, he could probably catch her in time to apologize to her face, like she deserved.
No. Thanks though. Listen, I’m sorry about last night.
Even if he was about to see her, he couldn’t text her back without at least scratching the surface of the apology he owed her.
?
Her sparse reply burnt itself into his mind, igniting a fresh bout of guilt. If she was trying to say that he owed her more of an explanation, she was right. As he exited the shop with a quick wave to the other artists and receptionist, he tried to stop savoring the memory of having his tongue entwined so thoroughly with Karen’s that he could still practically taste her.
His apology would seem a lot more convincing if he completely regretted kissing her, but he didn’t – he couldn’t.
* * * * *
“Did you hear that?”
“That was a male voice. It was definitely male. Did you hear what it said?”
“I didn’t catch any words. It almost sounded like a growl. Let’s get back to the lab and check the EVP recording.”
Karen leaned back in her chair, adjusting the hydraulic lever beneath the seat. Holy crap, she needed a new desk chair. Why hadn’t she bought one yet? That should’ve been priority number one when she’d started making enough money to do more than just barely pay her bills each month. It was a pain to edit photos – or watch TV online while her printer churned out 5x7s – in the worn out piece of junk-on-wheels.
“Holy crap!” Voices crackled through her cheap computer speakers – another office essential that could use replacing. “Did you hear that, man?”
Crappy speakers or no, the EVP recording echoed through Karen’s workspace. Ugh, it really did sound like a growl, and they kept replaying it…
Karen glanced toward the window. It wasn’t even dark yet, which meant that listening to the static-laced recording alone in her studio shouldn’t scare her, not even a little bit.
Still, she jumped and nearly upended her aged desk chair when a knock sounded at the door. Spinning as quickly as her wobbling seat would allow, she turned her back on her computer screen.
Her legs shook as she hurried toward the door. Who could be on the other side? She didn’t have any clients scheduled – she’d left the entire day open in order to celebrate her birthday with her grandmother and then get caught up on some odd tasks.
“Karen?” The voice that called from the other side of the door stopped her in her tracks just as her fingertips were about to brush the doorknob.
Memories of the night before rushed back to her, sweet and vivid and a little terrifying when she really thought about them. On the verge of facing Jed for the first time since the kiss, she stood frozen like an idiot with her heart pounding away in her throat. What was about to happen? She let herself wonder for approximately two seconds before she had to stop herself regretting that she hadn’t worn sexier underwear.
At least her bra and panties matched – she was reasonably sure of that, although it was kind of hard to remember getting dressed that morning when her thoughts kept zooming back to the memory of Jed’s short beard scraping her jaw, his tongue wrapped around hers…
“I’m here.” She called out the first thing that came to mind and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal the man she’d barely been able to stop thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.
He looked just like she remembered – sexy as sin – and her already elevated heartbeat sped ahead at the sight. Instead of a button-up with rolled-up sleeves, he wore a black t-shirt. It clung to his muscular torso and revealed the goldmine of well-done ink that covered his arms. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stood in the doorway for a moment, silent with his thumbs tucked into his pockets.
She let herself admire him for a few seconds as a cloud of butterflies came to life somewhere between her hips and her heart.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She stepped back, unable to resist thinking of his last text. Sorry about last night? What the hell did that mean? Was he sorry he’d kissed her? Sorry he hadn’t done more? Wondering had driven her to tune-out in front of her computer screen, courtesy of her favorite ghost hunting show.
He breathed a barely-audible sigh as he strode into the room, looking like he was on the verge of saying something important. Instead, he paused in front of her computer. “You watching this?”