Accidentally Amy(2)

She did smile then. “I mean, the more, the merrier, right?”
His mouth split into a slow, wide smile that she really liked a lot. “Are we sure that applies here?”
“Definitely not, but I couldn’t let a moment pass without speaking,” she said.
“Yeah, I can see that about you.”
“Hey,” Izzy said, “Just because I boiled your chest doesn’t mean you can insult me.”
“I feel like it actually does mean that. And technically,” he said with a sly grin, “you insulted yourself. I, being a polite individual, merely agreed.”
“Fair.” She rolled her eyes and said, “I’ll even give you one more. Go.”
He let out his breath and raised his eyebrows. “This feels like a trap.”
“Do it,” she said, crossing her arms. “Go. Slam me, bro.”
He gave a little chuckle - he didn’t look like someone used to being called bro - and said, “Fine. I’m surprised you can see out of those glasses - they're very dirty. Like a crime scene. No wonder you walked into me.”
Izzy laughed out, “Wow, you actually did it.”
“You told me to,” he said around a grin, and then he gestured with his hand - very big, not that she noticed - for her to hand over her glasses.
“No.” She narrowed her eyes and knew her eyebrows were all screwed together. “Seriously?”
“Come on. Hand ‘em over.”
“Okay,” she said, laughing at the ridiculousness as she took her glasses off and handed them to the complete stranger. “Here you go.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket - verry nice suit, by the way - and pulled out a microfiber cloth. He looked down at her glasses (which were always dirty) as he buffed the lenses, and Izzy wondered what in God’s name was actually happening. She said, “They’re usually not--”
“Yes, I think they probably are,” he teased, without looking up.
“Yeah, they usually are,” she agreed, smiling as he handed them back. She slid them up her nose, tilted her head and said, “Ohmigod, you’re a man.”
He moved his head, a little nod acknowledging her joke, and he gave her full-on eye contact. With a jaw flex. The moment held, and she felt like she was being physically pulled closer to the guy, like some bizarro gravitational pull was in play, when the barista shouted, “Blake!”
Both of their heads whipped toward the Starbucks employee, and Izzy thought she might’ve audibly gasped at the interruption but she wasn’t sure.
“Um, that’s me,” he said, his eyes narrowing on her for a split second - like he was thinking something about her - before he pointed and leaned forward to reach around her for his cup. The faint smell of cologne hit her as he grabbed his coffee, cologne that smelled expensive and subtle, and Izzy had the inexplicable urge to nuzzle his throat.
Get it together, dipshit. Be cool.
He turned to face her, leaning down so she could hear him over the noise of the crowded coffee shop, and his deep voice found her ear with, “Do you want to grab a table--”
“Oh, no - what time is it?” The word “table” jolted her into real life. He might’ve said the time, but she was too busy pulling her phone out of her pocket to hear him. She looked at the display, panic surging through her, and said, “Ohmigod I’m late I have to go.”
She fished her keys out of her pocket and he was still watching her with that look on his face. She had to say something, so she uttered as quickly as she could, “I come here every morning around 7:45, so if you want to be reimbursed for the drycleaning, or, um, anything else, I’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Ok--”
“Gotta run - nice meeting you!” She ran for the door, literally sprinting around tables in her three-inch pumps. And as she pushed it open, Izzy heard that intensely-masculine voice say from behind her--
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Amy.”
Amy??
Oh, noooooo.
    


Chapter Two

Izzy hitched her tote bag over her shoulder and headed for the elevators, feeling downright giddy over the way her first day on the job was going so far. She’d spent all morning with her team, shadowing the HR Generalist whose position she was filling, and it’d been - no joke - fun.
Seriously.
Everyone in the department seemed to get along, the work seemed challenging but not too stressful, and she actually had an (incredibly small) office with her name on the door.
In addition to that little nugget of fantasticality, Incite Fitness - the city’s hottest health club - was located on the 12th floor of the building next door, and Ellis employees were able to use it for free. For. Free. So Izzy had just run three miles on the treadmill, and now she was ready for Part 2 of her amazing day.
She saw the elevator doors starting to close and called out wait, just in case someone was listening and wanted to be nice. She expected nothing, so she very-nearly squealed with delight when she saw a big hand reach out and stop the doors.
Could the day get any better?
“Thank you,” she sang as she ran over and hopped into the elevator.
“No problem,” the guy inside said, “What fl--”
“Ohmigod.” Izzy’s mouth fell wide open as she came face-to-face with Mr. Chest from Starbucks. He was still wearing his fancy suit (sans coffee-stained shirt), but the tips of his hair were wet, like he’d just showered, and she could literally smell his soap. Mmm - fresh. She breathlessly said around a laugh, “It’s you.”