Page 2 of Under Pressure
She dropped her bag to the sterile white granite floor with a clunk. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He snorted, leaned forward on his seat, and started sorting through his paperwork. “First, we meet at seven, then six, now five. If you keep this up, we’ll be meeting here at one a.m. by Friday.”
Bluebell took another sip of her soda—it didn’t ground her this time. Drats. So, she resorted to sarcasm. “If we meet at one, will you stop coming?”
He shook his head at her, looking more amused than anything else. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m from a military family. Weird hours are my norm.” He leaned closer to her, and she held her breath. “Look, I don’t know why you’d want to do this project on your own, but you did successfully get rid of the rest of our group. I mean, what sane twenty-something would show up at five a.m. when they’ve been all but promised the work will get done without their help?”
Busted.
He leaned back. “How that’s possible in a mastermind group, I don’t know, but you can’t exactly credit most of the group with an overabundance of brains.”
She snorted, then tried to hide it. “Soda down the wrong tube.” She hadn’t taken a sip.
That knowing smile of his returned. “But I’m not leaving,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. Tingles shot down her spine.
She gritted her teeth. No one had ever called her out before. She didn’t think anyone had noticed. Which was part of the reason this was so unnerving. She lifted her chin. “You’re here,crazy.”
His full lips quirked up at the side, and a deep rumbling laugh sent goose bumps rising on her arms. “So are you. Guess we can share a padded cell.”
“Maybe I prefer solitary confinement, and frankly,” she signaled down his body with a swipe of her hand, “you take up a lot of room.”
He swirled a finger around in the air, indicating the empty library as a whole. “I can see that.”
“Hey, if this is solitary confinement, I’ll take it,” she said.
“Almost solitary. You’ve still got me.” He winked. “Lucky girl.”
“Is that what I am?” she teased.
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth and she quickly turned to the papers he’d laid out on the table.Ugh. Stop bantering!What was she thinking? This was one of the most popular guys in school going by the crowd she always saw around him. She should not be flirting with him. Shouldn’t be playing into this . . . whatever this was. “Seriously, why would you show up this early if you didn’t have to? Don’t you want to take advantage of that and sleep in or something?”
“Nope.” He turned in his chair. “And I do have to. This is my assignment too. I’m doing my fair share. Also, if I don’t come, I’ll fail, so . . .”
Everything in her training taught her how to disappear in the background, how to be forgettable. From the oversized t-shirt she’d knotted in the back, to her lack of makeup, to her mousy hair. Even her personality had transformed from outspoken to quiet. Well, biting her tongue was more like it, though she couldn’t say she was doing all that good of a job right now.
If anyone from her old life were to look at her, they wouldn’t recognize the dark-haired, designer-clothes-wearing, challenging beauty she used to be. Which was the point. And,frankly, no one had wanted to be around the mousy, plain-clothed, recluse she’d become—until now.
Not that he wanted to be around her, he just wanted to do his part. Which also made him one of the nicest guys she knew. Double drat.
A pencil wagged in her face, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“You okay there, Blue?” He chuckled. “You look like your brain just went on a walkabout.”
It had. She blinked. “Why do you keep calling me Blue?”
He furrowed his brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Bluebell. No one calls me Blue.” Except her brother who’d called her that because of the amount of blue she used to wear. It was the only reason she hadn’t said no when the agents had given her and her dad hippie names. But she didn’t have a single piece of blue in her wardrobe anymore—she stuck with browns, beiges, whites, creams, and grays. Plain. Forgettable. “Everyone calls me Bluebell or Bell.”
“I can if you want, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But Blue’s such a unique name. It suits you.”
That was what her brother had said.
“No.”
He frowned. “No, don’t call you that?”
She shook her head. “Don’t stop calling me that.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I like it.” It felt familiar, comforting, like a warm blanket—a bear hug. Her gaze dropped to Sean’s strong arms and she suddenly wondered what it’d be like to be wrapped up in those bad boys.
