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She gave him a worried gaze as she made her way to the couch, then paused, pointing to the office area behind her. “I feel like I need to take notes.” His gaze locked on her backside in the denim as she hurried to the desk. Perfect backside, his brain justhadto clarify, which promptly set off his find the flaw plague that stalked the corridors of his royally fucked mind.
He forced his head in the opposite direction, searching for something stronger to focus on. “I did hear from Ace. He’s bringing Sophie back after putting her in a neurological overload coma.”
“What?” she gasped, sitting on the couch.
He eyed her note taking tools. “There’s an iPad for notes.”
She regarded the archaic paper in her lap. “I like using this. If that’s okay.”
“For now it’s fine but for work you’ll need to use something faster.”
She nodded. “Got it. Is Sophie going to be okay?”
“I don’t know what she’s going to be, I have no idea the extent of her condition or what he did to her until she’s here and I can run tests.”
She nodded, her brows furrowed in concern. “I’m so sorry, Rukem.”
He moved to the edge of the couch and turned a little toward her. “What kind of symptoms did you have after we kissed?”
Her brows rose. “Symptoms?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tell me what it did to you and how long did it last. What I realize is that this…stuff—for lack of a single other word—is a lot stronger than I imagined.”
She was writing and nodding. “So glad you said that.”
“Why?”
“Because I agree. I was worried it was just me.”
“Tell me what happened to you. As formally as you can,” he said, realizing what he’d just asked for.
“Well…uh…it was…” He eyed the tap-tap-tap of her pen on the paper and her bouncing leg. “I’m looking for the right words,” she said, her gaze moving all around the room as if to find them.
“Well, I’m right there with you on that front, Miss Summers. Anytime I attempt to explain or define a single thing, the word bank comes up empty. Why is that? Is that normal?”
She gave clueless big eyes. “I wish I could tell you,” she said, sounding awed over it.
“So you have no words to describe it?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth where she tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. Then her tongue greeted him, and he was suddenly experiencing all those nameless symptoms. “I have words, but… I feel like they might…” She was doodling now on the paper.
“You’re nervous,” he realized, happy to know something. “Why, exactly? Do you fear…feeding it?”
She gave a little nod. “And…sounding stupid.”
“You can’t possibly sound stupider than my current mind on the matter.”
“Maybe you can tell me what…your symptoms were, and I’ll tell you if I had any like them.”
He stood, realizing he needed to not see her while saying it. “Your first note can be that I can’t look at you while talking about it.”
“Okay,” she said, easily. Too easily. “Noted.”
“Second note is that I’m bothered that you’re not…seeming to have any symptoms at all.”
She made sputtering noises. “Why do you say that?”
He glanced toward her over his shoulder. “Well, if you’re having symptoms, they’re not very problematic, I think.”
