Page 61 of Under the Weatherman
When I finally rolled into the newsroom around two, I’d worked myself into a state of anxiety about seeing him again. How was I going to pretend he didn’t affect me?
Gigi turned a dramatic chipmunk expression at me when I hung my messenger bag over the back of a chair. She scurried over. “Keep your head low, today.”
I’d already planned on it. “Why?”
“Tom was let go.”
“Tom?” Oh, God. “What happened?”
She shook her head, glancing surreptitiously toward the control room. “I’ll tell you later.”
Lauren entered with a thunderous expression. “It’s going to be all hands on deck today.” When was it not? “Can you handle building the rundown without help? You should know how to do it by now.” Her exhaled sigh held the weight of disappointment before I’d even failed her.
I flinched at the embedded insult. I’d only been here a week, and yet she expected me to be an expert without any proper training. “Of course.”
“Great. I’ve got to deal with a staffing crisis.” With that, she stormed off.
As soon as she was out of view, Gigi whispered, “I think he was high on the job Friday night.”
“Who? Tom?” Oh. That was a bit of a relief. If they were firing people for no reason, I might have been more concerned. Still, the stress of this job kept ratcheting up.
What if Lauren made me take over the broadcast? I swallowed a lump of fear, then remembered Evan’s promise to give me advice. After drafting an initial rundown, I snuck over to the other side of the building and peeked into the weather office, but it appeared to be empty. I crossed the threshold, anxiously. This was the first time I’d been in Evan’s space since we’d shared a dark car on a rainy night.
“Hello?” I called.
I ventured farther in, staring at the monitors on the wall, awed by thermonuclear war games on screen. How could anyone understand any of that?
“Elizabeth?” Evan came in holding a stack of paper, wearing those nerd glasses and a blue pinstripe shirt. As he approached, his aftershave and body musk hit me like a typhoon. Maybe I’d miscalculated by avoiding him last Thursday. If I’d glimpsed him working in his office, all scientist hot, I would’ve been prepared for how downright sexy he looked in that powder blue button-up. I might’ve been inoculated against his green eyes and pouty lips. “What do you need?”
Was he unhappy to see me? Or were we just awkward now?
“Nothing, just—” I started to turn back.
A reddish flush on his neck reminded me of how tentative he’d been Saturday night, when I’d won a kiss from him with one bold move. What if he sat on a razor’s edge, fighting a desire his body wanted but his mind refused. It was confusing the way his pupils dilated, all while he shot me down with words.
I wanted to flee. I wanted to unbutton his pants and slide my hand inside the boxer briefs which I knew he wore—from experience.
My knees threatened to betray me. “They fired Tom.” I swallowed, mouth dry as cotton. “It’s a madhouse today.”
He laid the papers on a desk and exhaled sharp. “Yeah, I was planning on holing up in here to avoid the drama.”
I blinked, too anxious to parse a double meaning in that. “I’m terrified Lauren will make me step in for her today. I’m not ready.”
“You probably are, but try to focus only on the people in the studio. It’s a job like any other. You just have to forget anyone else is watching.”
“And then picture everyone naked.”
“What?” He coughed a laugh. “I mean. I don’t know how that would help.”
“Well, maybe not everyone. Not Kent.” I imagined Evan with nothing on, and my cheeks heated. “Okay, you’re right. Nobody in the nude.”
“Maybe not in the studio at least.” Was that a hint of flirtation? Surely not. Not after his whole declaration on Saturday.
Movement on one of the screens overhead caught my eye, and I seized on a change of topic. “How on earth can you read anything on here? It looks like an invasion of blue raspberry jello.”
He snorted but stepped closer. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Yes.” I chewed my lower lip, silently begging him to touch me.
