When It's Right(51)

Her eyes narrowed when he didn’t say anything. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“No.” Yes. You stand here not knowing what brushing up so close does to me. I want you. I need you. “Everything is fine. I do the projections over here on this paper. I don’t have them in the computer. I hate this thing. It won’t do what it’s supposed to.”

“Don’t be silly. It’ll do anything you tell it to do. Watch.” She took the mouse from his hand, her fingertips brushing his despite how hard she tried not to hit him with her cast. If she noticed the zap of electricity arcing between them, she ignored it. Like always, maddening him even more.

She added a column to his spreadsheet, dragged the mouse across the numbers he wanted to add, and, with a few clicks, told it to add up the numbers. With a few more clicks and drags, she had one spreadsheet linked to the total on the original spreadsheet.

“There. Now all you have to do is enter the information into the rows and the total on this spreadsheet, and the other will calculate for you.”

“How do you know how to do that?”

“I told you. I took basic accounting in high school. I did the books for a garage. This is just a simple accounting spreadsheet. I can pretty much see what you’re trying to figure out here. I can do the projections for you showing you what would happen in one year or five years, depending on the variables you want to use. Whatever you want. There’re all kinds of things you can do with these spreadsheets.” She looked at the folders on the desk and sorted through them, her concentration and focus on them, not him.

“For these salaries and benefits, I can set up another spreadsheet that will help you calculate pay increases, tell you how much you paid in salaries for the year, how much taxes are owed, all the deductions. You can total it for the year and use it for taxes next year.”

She grabbed the other set of folders. “You know, you could take this spreadsheet that lists the amount of feed the horses consume and link it to this spreadsheet to determine the amount of feed you need to order and when. That way you only order what you need and the feed is fresh for the horses.”

He watched her, studied the way she concentrated and mulled over her thoughts by biting the corner of her rosy lip. In less than five minutes, she’d gone through much of his paperwork and figured it out and told him how to do it faster and more efficiently. He knew she was smart, he’d just never thought she’d be interested in facts and figures. It seemed, given a chance and some teaching, she was good at everything she tried. Every task she took on, she put all her effort into it and did everything to the best of her ability. She didn’t half-­ass anything.

“Fine, you want to take a crack at it? Be my guest. Take all these folders, too. Figure them out. I’m going down to see my mom.”

He needed to get away from her. Her smell, her hair brushing his shoulder, the fact that she was wearing her new jeans that fit her like a second skin, and the fact that he could see the strap of the pink and cream bra he’d bought her peeking out from under her shirt, driving him wild. His heart slammed into his chest. The hard-­on pressed to his fly throbbed and kept time with his thrashing heart. He either needed to take a cold shower or bash his head into the wall. Maybe a little pain would take his mind off her and his aching dick.

He pushed back from the desk, letting the chair roll across the hardwood floor, accidentally ramming the chair arm right into her thigh. She cussed under her breath, bent, and rubbed her hand over her sore leg.

“What the hell?” She hissed in a sharp breath.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Shit. Bud would have his head for hurting her. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, grabbed her leg, and ran his hand over her thigh. She’d bruise. Again. His stomach went tight and burned like acid. Sick he’d put a mark on her, he dropped his head and pressed his forehead to her hip. “I’m so sorry.”

He glanced up, ready for whatever wrath she wanted to spew at him. Instead, he found her steady gaze filled with concern and what he hoped was a longing that matched his own. Her eyes dipped to his hands wrapped around her thigh. He released her, jumped up, and stalked into the living room space. He kept his back to her as he collected himself, trying to forget that look in her eyes, the feel of her toned muscles under his palms, heaven at his fingertips. When she looked at him like that, her eyes soft, like she wanted him to touch her, she undid him. His heart reached out to her just the way he wanted to do with his hands.

He stood, hands on hips, shoulders rigid, and waited for whatever she said next.