“Boss said not to mention last night,” Fish said. “So I figure we’re not mentioning it.”
“I can make French toast,” she said and began to pull out the ingredients.
If Score wanted to fire her when he woke up, food wouldn’t stop him. In the meantime, cooking kept her busy with something other than obsessing.
“Last night?” Beeks said as she began to crack eggs. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing,” came a gruff voice from the end of the hallway.
Everyone turned. Score stood there, his hair damp, his tee-shirt clean, and his gaze narrowed on her. Shyla shivered. Just being snared under his scrutiny changed the way she breathed. It wasn’t easy to remember her name or what day of the week it was when he was treating her like the only person on the planet.
Score wasn’t an easy man to read. Shyla couldn’t tell if he was angry or annoyed or if the intensity of his laser-precise focus was trying to tell her something else. Sliding the bowl further onto the counter, she spun away from the stove at the center island and busied herself with washing her hands.
Except that didn’t save her from being inspected by the men in the room. The sink was central in an inset section of the units. The splash back and wall around it were mirrored, which was great for giving the illusion of space, but not so great for a woman who needed time to compose herself.
After washing her hands, she grabbed a clean towel from the drawer to dry them. No one had said anything. Score was still fixated on her, standing there by the wall that separated kitchen from hallway.
She wasn’t sure what Fish and Beeks thought of his examination, but she sure felt the weight of it.
Curling her lips into her mouth, it was time to face the inevitable. “Could I talk to you a minute? Please, sir?” Shyla asked, doing her best not to sound desperate.
Sir had seemed appropriate given that he was her boss. It just came out and no one corrected her. She was grateful they hadn’t, another misstep might have ended her. Although Shyla had never considered herself an elegant soul, she couldn’t remember ever being quite so inept.
Score nodded once, but didn’t move, meaning it was left to her to lead the way. Leaving the kitchen, she gave Score a wide berth, going around him to head down the hallway. At either side of the end of the hall were their bedrooms. Shyla didn’t want to take the liberty of walking into his or remind him of the previous night by going into hers, so she slipped into the laundry room instead.
Almost immediately she realized her mistake. Shyla leaned over the washer to pause the cycle and spun around only to be reminded of just how big Score was compared to her. He’d just shut the door, trapping them in there, in the confined claustrophobic space.
There was no reason to catalog that his arms were solid and his jaw strong and square. She shouldn’t have noticed the scent of his soap and his deodorant or the way they mingled to create the most alluring aroma.
Shyla had been aroused before, but never in that way. The potency of her visceral reaction was brand new. The tightness of her chest grew, so it became harder to breathe. The tingling between her thighs was unnerving too.
Everything about him caused sensory overload and they weren’t even doing anything. There wasn’t even the suggestion that they would. They were just two people standing in the same space. That was all. Yet, Shyla could feel the intimate core of her body responding to him like it had an expectation of his attention.
“That it?” he asked.
Realizing that she’d just been standing there, saying nothing, kind of staring toward his abs, Shyla’s anxiety picked that moment to remind her that she’d bitten him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words rushing out.
Locking her fingers in front of her abdomen, she pushed her digits as deep together as they’d go. When she was nervous or stressed, she didn’t know what to do with her hands. They always just tangled and tensed of their own accord.
“For what?”
Was he asking if she remembered what she’d done or to which part specifically she was referring? From what she picked up in the brief glances she stole up at him, there was little expression on his face. If anything, he appeared bored. Looking him in the eye was just impossible while she was so mortified.
“For everything. For all of it.”
“I said nothing happened,” he said. “Nothing happened.”
The terrifying thing was she had no idea what had actually happened, so she had no idea what he was giving her a pass for. If only half of what Fish relayed was true, then Score should be kicking her out on her ass. Shyla dreaded to imagine what a fool she’d made of herself after Fish left.
Just then she caught sight of an angry red mark on Score’s neck. From the side around to his throat, it looked just like a scratch. Horrified, she gaped at her fingernails, which were long enough to have injured him.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, stepping forward to reach up. “Was that me?”
Before she could make contact, he twisted himself out of her reach. His scowl grew deeper. Of course it did! She chastised herself for ever thinking of taking the liberty of touching him, especially after hurting him. Shyla locked her fingers together again and tried to steady her breathing. Hyperventilating wouldn’t improve his impression of her.
He wasn’t making this easy, but he had no reason to. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave,”
