Five minutes later, as my fingers flew over the keyboard, I
heard the phone ring. Five minutes after that, I heard a
thud and a curse, folowed by the sound of water running
in his private bathroom and more muttered cursing. I
waited for him to cal me, and when he didn't, I got up and
went into his office without knocking.
Paul stood in the center of the room with a handful of
sodden paper towels. He'd been using them to scrub at the
coffee stain al over his white shirt, but al he'd managed to
do was spread it. Smal bits of paper towel clung to the
fabric, adding to the mess. The harder he scrubbed, the
worse it got.
worse it got.
The first three days I'd worked for Kely Printing, Paul had
been out of the office. He'd hired me, one of three people
who'd sat in on the interview, but I hadn't known until I
showed up that day who was going to be my boss. I'd
assumed the thick sheaf of instructions left for me on my
desk were because he wasn't there to start me off. I knew
better now, of course, but looking back you always see
things you didn't at the time.
The first day I'd come into work to find him actualy in the
office, he'd had this same look on his face. It was because
he'd assumed I hadn't finished everything he'd left for me;
when I showed him al the tasks I'd completed, he'd
calmed down at once, and our routine had quickly become
the way I've described it. So I'd seen the panicked look
before, but not for a while.
'Stop.' I didn't have to think about this. I took the paper towels from his hands and threw them in the trash. I went
to the bathroom and puled a handful of dry paper towels
out, then dabbed at the wet spot on his shirt. 'What
happened?'
'I spiled my coffee,' Paul said unnecessarily.
'I spiled my coffee,' Paul said unnecessarily.
'I see that.' I also saw there was more to it than that. I blotted the stain and scraped off most of the paper- towel
flecks.
Under my hands, Paul's chest was firm. He radiated heat,
though his face was dry and even a little pale. His hands
shook a little as he held them out away from his sides to
give me room to work. He was getting ready for a ful-on
panic attack.
'This isn't so bad,' I soothed.
'I have a meeting to go to in five minutes, and Melissa
forgot my dry cleaning again. So I don't even have an extra
shirt.' His voice went a little hoarse. 'Damn it, why'd I
have to spil coffee on myself now?'
'You wouldn't be the only person at the meeting who ever
spiled coffee, Paul.' I stood back to assess the damage,
