Heating Up the Help Desk, a novella

Chapter Nine

Kenneth: I'm done. I couldn't sleep last night.

She hadn't slept either.

Did he toss in his damp sheets for several hours before admitting defeat, the same as her? Did he imagine her with him, her breathing, the curves and lines of her body under the covers next to him? Or maybe he told himself he was a desperate idiot, reaching for the wrong person.

She had known him for twenty-four hours and she was a desperate, sweaty wreck. There was something wrong with her.

Kenneth: I'll send them to you.

Reese: Wait, use my private email.

She typed in her email for the blog and then gave him the direct link to one of her pages.

Reese: If you get some time, go through the self-affirmation list, see if any apply to you. Then repeat those to yourself several times during the day. This is an empowering exercise. Not best during work hours, but better than nothing.

No response.

He must be busy helping someone. She clicked on the project review she was working on, leaving the box open in case he came right back.

Her coffee was long gone when the box flashed.

Kenneth: Several lists are good for me. I can't do lunch today. Hell is breaking loose. Talk to you later.

Hell was breaking loose? Had someone clicked on an email virus?

Reese: Sorry to hear it. Quick, are you wearing one of the new outfits and glasses?

Kenneth: Yes

Reese: If you have time later, you should come up to "check" something and we'll test the new you with the other ladies. It will be fun.

Kenneth: We need to talk about your definition of 'fun' lol.

Kenneth: If I can get free. C U.

Reese sat back in her chair. Despite herself, she was excited for him. The new Kenneth could be deadly in the accounting department. For reasons unknown, the fates had stacked the accounting department with an inordinate number of single women—all shapes and sizes, ages, and cooking specialties for the potluck lunches. Hers was spiced melty cheese dip and organic purple corn chips from the local farmer's market.

She was into her third cup of coffee and hip deep in project numbers when the box at the corner flashed again.

Kenneth: I'm here.

Where?

She rose prairie-dog fashion to check above the cubicle walls.

He lurked in the passage beyond the door, stiff and awkward. Despite having new clothes hand-selected by yours truly, he had managed to mismatch his ensemble. His shirt was buttoned to the neck, and his sleeves were tight at his wrists. But there was no horrible tie. Wrong pants. Good shoes. And hot damn, those glasses made a difference.

All right. Close enough. The ladies here were friendly, ready to accept the unusual and lonely, as opposed to the blood-sucking vampires he would encounter in marketing.

She motioned for him to lift his chest.

He cupped his pecs and mouthed boobs, confused.

No. She wagged her finger. Swiping her hands upwards from her chest, she ended by pretending to raise her chin. He nodded and looked upwards.

Reese collapsed onto her chair. A person could not be transformed into suave, sophisticated lover in four days. It was not possible.

But he didn't need to be. He needed to be himself, and dang it all, brains were sexy to everyone, not only starved zombie hotties in bad romances.