Page 42 of Fierce-Baker

Not that he did it daily when she worked.

Just the second time this week.

He had caught her in the lunchroom once by chance since she took her break at different times. He was busy on top of it and couldn’t always walk away from what he was doing.

Even if he wanted to.

Even if he was dying for another glimpse of Tasha Robinson. The woman taking up way too much residence in his mind.

The things he wanted to do. The things he thought of.

A brush of his fingers along her arm. A kiss on her luscious lips.

Not that he’d do the last at work, but he fucking wanted to.

Six days since he’d had her in his arms and he was itching for another round.

Not good for a man who said that he was keeping this light. Keeping it simple. Keeping his distance.

Yet, seeing her standing there watching his gaze on her said he might have lost the wall he’d built years ago.

“Hi,” she said, looking around. No one was close by. Not close enough to hear them talking by the water cooler while he got another coffee that he didn’t need.

“How has your week been?”

“Pretty uneventful. Though the lines were already around the side of the building when I pulled up. I should get out there and start getting people checked in.”

“Going to be a long one, I’m sure.”

The water was coming out of the jug and going into her large pink Stanley cup. The one with the handle and straw that he’d never be caught dead with.

It looked good on her. Almost made her look like one of her students with her size and the playfulness in her eyes.

As if she knew exactly what he was doing when he told himself he was nuts to make contact again.

The last thing he was going to do was be the man chasing tail nonstop.

Looked like he lost that promise he’d made to himself along with so many others.

What was it about her that made him forget what he’d been through already?

“Fridays go by fast. I’ve worked a few of them.”

The water hit the tip of the cup, she released her finger from the blue button and twisted the top on, then put the straw to her lips and sucked, her eyes dancing and aimed right at him.

He leaned closer to get the top for his coffee that he’d been holding there like a fool and slapped it on. “Are you having fun torturing me?”

She laughed and brushed by him whispering, “Why, yes, I am.”

He moved to the vending machine, put his credit card up to it and hit the button for a cookie, then turned to leave and saw Mason standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“What?” he asked. “I can’t get some caffeine and sugar this morning?”

Mason stepped back when Baker moved toward the door, and he wasn’t surprised his boss was following him down the hall to the distillery.

“You can come and go as you like,” Mason said. “No one is watching you.”

“I don’t believe it. Why are you following me now?”