Read Online Miss Adventure by Geralyn Corcillo - Free Book Online
Authors: Geralyn Corcillo
Ads: Link
Only my heart moves, beating at the speed of Secretariat. My eyes stay fixed on Jack.
“Lisa?”
Oh, God. He’s going to know I’m terrified. Of an elevator. He’s going to fire me! On my first day!
“Lisa?”
I tear my eyes from his face and rake them down his body, careful not to look anywhere near the glass walls.
“Why are you all wet? And sandy? Were you surfing? In the rain? Today?”
“Testing is half the design process.” He hefts the board as the elevator comes to a stop but looks back at me and smiles. “I'll be ready for our meeting by nine.”
Ding.
“You’re going to clean up and be ready to meet me in fifteen minutes?”
The doors open. “Watch me.”
Jack takes off, striding through an oatmeal-carpeted open office area bathed in recessed light. Leaping out of the elevator, I trip along in his wake. Some workers at their desks turn and stare, but I hold my head high as if I belong right where I am. At the end of the hall we sweep into a spacious office with pear green walls, but he doesn’t even slow down.
“Peg,” he says, nodding at the woman with stainless-steel gray hair sitting at the desk. “This is Lisa.”
She smiles at me, but before I can say anything, I pull up on a dime as Jack stops at a big black door set into the far wall. The portal to his sacred lair.
Totally acting like I’m not even here, Jack turns back toward Peg. “Why don’t you continue the appraisals on the loading docks?” He says it like it’s a suggestion, but then again, it’s clear it’s not.
Peg stands up. “No,” she says. “I can’t.”
“Ah.” Jack leans his surfboard against the wall and turns to face her. “Haven’t found your iPad yet?” Even I can tell that his voice is too casual to be anything but smug.
“Jack,” Peg says soothingly. “Soul Caliber isn’t for everyone.”
Jack folds his arms and shrugs. “Well, without the iPad, I guess you’ll just have to start the appraisals over from scratch.”
Peg stands at attention, her nostrils flaring. “Fine,” she says. “A rematch.”
Jack tilts his head and gives a ghost of a smile. “Filing cabinet under ‘I’.”
She retrieves the iPad, then leaves.
Still ignoring me, Jack turns back to his office door and puts his eye next to a panel that whirs, lights up, then disengages the lock. A retinal scan? Adventure gear must be some high stakes game. How cool am I? Jack is through the door and I stumble in behind him.
He surges through the office, yanking his wetsuit top over his head. “I’m going to take a quick—”
He stops talking. And walking. He just stands there in the middle of the room in black wetsuit shorts down to mid-thigh and a wetsuit top, half on, half off. This pose exposes an incredible set of abs, his lower back and an amazing pair of hipbones beneath taut skin—I have this total weakness for a guy’s hips. But I can’t see his head, which is buried somewhere inside the wetsuit shirt. I think he’s stuck.
Jack tugs. He yanks. Yup. He’s stuck. The thin, rubbery fabric of the wetsuit looks welded to the skin halfway up his back. He’s in the dark, and it must smell yucky in there, like the sea at low tide.
He flexes his muscles, trying to break free. “Damn!” This from inside the shirt. “What good’s a wetsuit if you can’t get it off when you need to?”
He’s asking me ?
He tries to yank the shirt over his head by pulling at the back of the collar, but gets nowhere. His head stays covered, with his arms kind of stuck stretching forward.
“Hmmm…” I say, making it clear that I’m trying not to laugh, “Is this what Superman’s like behind closed doors? Getting all tangled up in his tights?”
“Laugh it up, Lois,” he says. “This is a new neoprene blend I’ve been working on for making the best pockets. Now, I’ve discovered a flaw. So this is all good.”
“Right.”
Giving up the fight, he turns toward me. “Help me out here, will you? Just grab the back
“Lisa?”
Oh, God. He’s going to know I’m terrified. Of an elevator. He’s going to fire me! On my first day!
“Lisa?”
I tear my eyes from his face and rake them down his body, careful not to look anywhere near the glass walls.
“Why are you all wet? And sandy? Were you surfing? In the rain? Today?”
“Testing is half the design process.” He hefts the board as the elevator comes to a stop but looks back at me and smiles. “I'll be ready for our meeting by nine.”
Ding.
“You’re going to clean up and be ready to meet me in fifteen minutes?”
The doors open. “Watch me.”
Jack takes off, striding through an oatmeal-carpeted open office area bathed in recessed light. Leaping out of the elevator, I trip along in his wake. Some workers at their desks turn and stare, but I hold my head high as if I belong right where I am. At the end of the hall we sweep into a spacious office with pear green walls, but he doesn’t even slow down.
“Peg,” he says, nodding at the woman with stainless-steel gray hair sitting at the desk. “This is Lisa.”
She smiles at me, but before I can say anything, I pull up on a dime as Jack stops at a big black door set into the far wall. The portal to his sacred lair.
Totally acting like I’m not even here, Jack turns back toward Peg. “Why don’t you continue the appraisals on the loading docks?” He says it like it’s a suggestion, but then again, it’s clear it’s not.
Peg stands up. “No,” she says. “I can’t.”
“Ah.” Jack leans his surfboard against the wall and turns to face her. “Haven’t found your iPad yet?” Even I can tell that his voice is too casual to be anything but smug.
“Jack,” Peg says soothingly. “Soul Caliber isn’t for everyone.”
Jack folds his arms and shrugs. “Well, without the iPad, I guess you’ll just have to start the appraisals over from scratch.”
Peg stands at attention, her nostrils flaring. “Fine,” she says. “A rematch.”
Jack tilts his head and gives a ghost of a smile. “Filing cabinet under ‘I’.”
She retrieves the iPad, then leaves.
Still ignoring me, Jack turns back to his office door and puts his eye next to a panel that whirs, lights up, then disengages the lock. A retinal scan? Adventure gear must be some high stakes game. How cool am I? Jack is through the door and I stumble in behind him.
He surges through the office, yanking his wetsuit top over his head. “I’m going to take a quick—”
He stops talking. And walking. He just stands there in the middle of the room in black wetsuit shorts down to mid-thigh and a wetsuit top, half on, half off. This pose exposes an incredible set of abs, his lower back and an amazing pair of hipbones beneath taut skin—I have this total weakness for a guy’s hips. But I can’t see his head, which is buried somewhere inside the wetsuit shirt. I think he’s stuck.
Jack tugs. He yanks. Yup. He’s stuck. The thin, rubbery fabric of the wetsuit looks welded to the skin halfway up his back. He’s in the dark, and it must smell yucky in there, like the sea at low tide.
He flexes his muscles, trying to break free. “Damn!” This from inside the shirt. “What good’s a wetsuit if you can’t get it off when you need to?”
He’s asking me ?
He tries to yank the shirt over his head by pulling at the back of the collar, but gets nowhere. His head stays covered, with his arms kind of stuck stretching forward.
“Hmmm…” I say, making it clear that I’m trying not to laugh, “Is this what Superman’s like behind closed doors? Getting all tangled up in his tights?”
“Laugh it up, Lois,” he says. “This is a new neoprene blend I’ve been working on for making the best pockets. Now, I’ve discovered a flaw. So this is all good.”
“Right.”
Giving up the fight, he turns toward me. “Help me out here, will you? Just grab the back
Similar Books
