I was nearly to the long corridor with theout-of-ordersign when my heel caught on something, making me stumble. Instead of righting myself, I ended up stepping on another chunk of wood and tipped sideways with a sharp gasp.
“Whoa there!”
Strong arms caught me before I could hit the hazardous floor.
Connor’s arms.
The scent of his leather jacket enveloped me. Connor’s scent, something spicy and smoky. Distantly, a part of me was glad it no longer smelled of a random woman’s perfume.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m good.” I clutched at Connor’s shoulders, trying to get my bearings, but I kept on stepping on things, making me unsteady on my feet.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up easily, swinging me around so that my feet could touch flat, solid flooring.
“Sorry about this mess,” Connor said. “I should have warned you.”
His arms still circled my waist. My hands still dug into his jacket. I stared at him, needing to look up despite my tall heels. His dark eyes gazed into mine.
There was worry on his face, no doubt wondering if I’d hurt myself when I’d almost fallen. But behind the worry, there was something deeper. His dark eyes flickered, his pupils dilating.
Connor said when he made his move, I’d know it.
This wasn’t his move. Not at all. He hadn’t planned on getting me this close. But now that we were, his proximity was doing something to my insides. My stomach turned liquid, something warm pooling in my belly.
We were wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away.
I parted my lips to speak.
I sneezed, my face contorting as my whole body convulsed.
Connor laughed and let me go as I apologized profusely.
“It’s the dust,” I explained, turning my head away, mortified.
“I should get you a mask like Jessie,” he said. “That’ll protect you from the dust, and me from your sneezes.”
Face red, I scrambled in my purse for a tissue. Connor pretended not to see as I dabbed at my nose.
“I know you don’t have a design yet, but I figured we might as well get started on tearing things down,” he said.
“Don’t you want to keep some of the fixtures intact?” I asked, sniffling one last time.
“There’s nothing I wanted to keep from this place, so we can gut the entire thing as far as I’m concerned.”
“Good thing, because I think that guy out there is having the time of his life destroying the place.”
“I can’t think of a better person more suited for the job,” Connor replied.
“He said he usually gets kicked out of places for smashing things.” I crumpled the damp tissue and shoved it to the bottom of my bag. “Do I want to know what that means?”
“Gael is one of those musician friends I talked about.” Connor wiped his hands on his jeans, rubbing at his thighs, brushing off dust and grime. “You know the whole rock stars trashing hotel rooms stereotype?” Connor jerked his head to the other corner of the room where Gael was bashing things to bits. “It’s not a stereotype with that guy.”
“Remind me to never invite him to a party.”
Connor put a hand on my upper arm and led me away from the destruction toward the long hallway. I carefully tiptoed my way through, making sure not to fall into his arms again.
That had been embarrassing, yes — especially the sneeze that had come afterward — but it had also been thrilling.
