Chapter 59 Thinking About Kissing
Eden's POV:
We've spent the best part of the weekend holed up in my living room. I should never have suggested this. I had no idea how hard it would be sitting opposite him in my apartment. We work in close quarters every day at the office. This shouldn't be that different, but there's something intimate about having him here.
What makes the whole thing worse is that we're no closer to finding the answers we need.
We've worked through all the data Noah received in that email and compiled a list of inconsistencies but now we're all out of ideas. Noah still hasn't heard anything from his friend in IT and so we're no closer to finding out who sent the information or whether it's even accurate. No matter how many times we discuss it, Noah can't think of anyone in the finance department that can help us.
We're all out of ideas. And it's getting more and more tempting to ask Martin for help. I shouldn't. Not if I don't want my grandma to know what I'm up to but I really don't see much option.
"I guess that's it," Noah says, sounding resigned.
"No," I refuse to accept defeat. "We just need to get the right information."
"From a trustworthy source," he adds pointedly. "That's really not that easy to do."
Martin is a trustworthy source... But how do I explain away my relationship with Martin? He's never going to believe that I just know Mrs Clancy's assistant by chance. Unless I can get the information without telling him where I got it.... But he'd never accept the data gathered without knowing where I got it.
Either way, this doesn't work. I need a new plan.
"Let's call it a day," he says, stretching. "I'm tired. We've been at it all weekend. My eyes are turning square from all these numbers."
He rubs his eyes as if to prove his point before blinking down at me.
"Were you always that short?" he asks pointedly, towering over me.
"Yes," I reply, my tone cool.
Of course, he wouldn't know that because I have never once not worn heals to work for this exact reason. I'm secretly just as short as my grandma. I thank god every day that some amazing dude invented heals.
"How come I never noticed?" he asks, smirking as he takes a step towards me.
"Notice what?"
"How tiny you are."
"I'm not tiny!" My hands automatically go to my hips as I stand up as straight as I possibly can.
"Yeah, you are."
He's still moving towards me. His voice is slightly husky, from tiredness no doubt. It's been a long day and we've barely stopped working except to eat.
My breath catches in my throat as I move to step back but my calf hits against the seat behind me. He's fast invading my personal space and I have no way out.
"Seriously," he says, holding his hand up to the top of my head, comparing it to his own height, "you don't even reach my shoulders. Your head is almost lower than my elbow."
"No. It's not." He's totally over exaggerating.
"I'm serious. Look." He steps forward again, raising his arm so that he can rest his elbow on top of my head. "You're really short, Eden."
"Or maybe you're monstrously tall," I jibe.
"Usually when women tell me I'm tall, they say it as a complement."
"I'm not like most women..."
"No, that you're definitely not," he says.
"I personally like short men," before processing what he said mere seconds before I spoke. "What? What do you mean I'm not like most women?"
He chuckles, moving his elbow off my head, before allowing his arm to rest on my shoulder. That small connection, a touch through several layers of clothing almost makes me hyperventilate.
Get. A. Grip. Eden.
"There's a lot of things that make you special, Eden."
There's something about the way he says my name. It sends fire through my veins, making me want him to say it again.
"Like what?" I whisper.
His eyes dart to my lips and instinctively, I lick my tongue across them. I wonder if he's thinking about kissing me. I hope he is. Because I've thought of little else this weekend.
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