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Cole answered an email from Drew about a script he’d sent him, and he was still looking at his phone when the lightning hit. The screen reflected the bolt, and the thunder was still echoing in his ears when he raised his head. The flash and the crash had been almost simultaneous.
He was turning toward the door when someone barreled through it and into him. Cole wrapped his arms around the figure so he didn’t go over backward, and it was only when she tipped her chin back that he realized it was Maggie.
Cole was holding Maggie.
Her eyes went wide. At the short distance, the irises were very green around the rim of her pupils, an herbal eclipse. Her mouth dropped open, and her lips were flushed a deep shade of rose. She was slim, pressed against him, and her body seemed to be holding most of the energy on earth. Or maybe that was just the rushing of his own pulse.
“Oof?” It came out like a question.
Was that an oof? Or was it something else?
Cole was dizzy, and it wasn’t the proximity of the lightning and the smell of the rain that had just started to come down outside.
It was entirely the woman in his arms.
Her hands, which had been raised to push the door open, flattened against his chest, and Cole found himself staring down at them. Theneat curve of each nail, the soft pink of the cuticles, the architecture of her fingers. It was as if he’d never seen hands before. As if no one had.
“Oof,” he repeated, but the sound was gibberish.
Maybe it was the only way to describe the stew of things he was feeling. Attraction, yes, but also just bone-deep concern. And relief that she wasn’t out in the storm. And ... tenderness. Maggie made his insides into a honeycomb, gooey and buzzing.
He raised his gaze to meet hers. Maggie’s breathing was shallow, each inhale a tiny sip, and her expression was so confused.
Probably because he was cradling her like a doofus.
Cole raised his hands from where they had been clenched on her back and took a few steps away from her. It didn’t help. He still felt all golden and glittery.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was trying not to—sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Maggie shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who ran into you. I wasn’t even looking. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I hate lightning. It’s like a top-five fear for me.”
Her smile was grateful. “I’m not too fond of it either. It started to feel like it was about to storm when I was walking toward the Tube station. Then the temperature dropped, and I could smell the rain, and I decided to turn around. The last few feet, the hair was starting to stand up on the back of my neck. I knew I was in trouble.”
Cole almost hauled her back into his arms. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.” She wiped at her eyes. “That wasnotwhat I was expecting this afternoon.”
“Did you have a session with Tasha? I thought she was with wardrobe.” If Tasha was going to meet with Maggie again, he really ought to be there, if only to protect Maggie.
“Leanne and Owen,” she explained. “Wedding-night choreography.”
“Our jobs are so weird.”
Lightning split the sky again, and Maggie tugged her coat around herself. “I may just spend the night here. Seems safer.”
“My driver’s on the way. I’m happy to drop you at the hotel. And he’ll wait for us until the lightning passes. We don’t have to rush out in”—a bolt of electricity cracked the sky again—“that.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate it. I don’t normally mind the Tube. I like it, actually, but ... maybe not today.”
“I’ll give you my number. We can carpool every day.”
Maggie’s answering smile was soft, but it wasn’t directed at him. Instead, she’d turned her attention to the toes of her shoes. “You’re very sweet to offer, but I’m okay.”
Is she declining the carpooling, my number—or both?
Cole knew it was safer, more professional, for her to pass. Because the things he’d felt when he’d held her, they’d been dangerous. Just as he wouldn’t want to take a stroll outside right now, it would be risky for him to draw Maggie closer ... even if he wanted to.
