She heaved a sigh, retrieved a hammer and screwdriver from the small toolbox in the office closet, and began to dismantle the cabinet by striking at the joints.
Rune appeared soon after the first hammer blow. She had grown so sensitized to his energy, she knew without bothering to look the moment he stepped into the room.
“So that’s what the mess in the other room was about,” he said. “You decided to get rid of the misbehaving books.”
“It was past time.”
He sent her a thoughtful glance but refrained from commenting. Instead, he said, “I take it the cabinet is contaminated.”
“Yes. It’s best to be on the safe side and burn it.” She positioned the tip of the screwdriver at the juncture of a panel, struck it with the hammer, and levered the pieces of wood apart. They came apart with a sharp crack.
He came up beside her, standing too close. He asked, “May I help?”
How like a male. Pull out some tools and start banging on something, and they flocked in from miles around. She pushed her hair out of her face with the back of one hand and scowled at him. “I am perfectly capable of breaking it down myself.”
“Of course you are,” he told her, smiling. “That’s not what I said. I said may I help?”
She shrugged irritably and stepped back. Rune studied the cabinet for a moment then grasped the sides. She said, “I could tear it apart with my bare hands too if I wanted, hotshot, but I don’t want my office walls scratched.”
“Have some faith,” Rune said.
“Fine.” She threw up her hands. The fragile calm she had achieved blew into tatters. She wanted the broom again. She might still smack him before the day got much older. “If you scratch my walls, you’re going to repaint the office yourself.”
He gave her an amused glance over one wide shoulder. “You’re in a mood.” The muscles in his wide, powerful back tensed, and he pushed out with controlled force. The cabinet split apart at the joints. He made quick work of dismantling it without, she noticed, scratching the walls once. Then he bent to stack the pieces together. “Do you have any twine?”
She went over to the open toolbox that sat on the floor just outside the closet. She set the hammer and screwdriver in the box, found a ball of twine and threw it at him hard.
It whistled through the air with such speed a human couldn’t have seen it, but he reached out and plucked it from the air with a lazy-seeming gesture. Of course he did. He bound the cedar pieces together swiftly, pulled out a pocket-knife, cut the twine and pocketed the knife again. Without looking up, he flung the ball of twine back at her. Hard.
She flinched back a step but caught it. She glared at the ball and slam-dunked it into the toolbox, and suddenly Rune was right in front of her. Too close. Of course. He was always too close, and he stepped forward, closer still, until their bodies brushed together.
She looked up, her gaze narrowed. “You’re in my space.”
“I know I am.” He brought his amused, sensual face down to hers. In a murmur so quiet it came out as a throaty purr, he asked, “Would you like to tell me what might coax you out of your mood? I would be happy to oblige you with just about anything.”
She stared up at him, her eyes widening. Desire roared back between them, both his and hers. It flared low in her belly and weighted her limbs so that she wanted to lie down. Her imagination supplied her with the molten image of him lying on top of her, his nude muscled body flexing, that beautiful wild face of his sharp with sex and need.
Her body insisted it needed to suck in some air. She fought and lost a battle with control, and took a breath, all of her senses thrumming with his hot vivid presence. The light brush of his hard chest against her nipples ignited sensations that were so long dormant, they should have remained dead and buried.
This was a wicked madness. He caused her to feel too much. It had gone beyond a dangerous, useless distraction and was fast approaching obsession. She couldn’t cope with all of it, both his emotions and hers. Coping with simple hope and fear were hard enough.
She tore her gaze away from his compelling face. Her hands shot out. She fisted them in his black T-shirt. “Did you finish reading?”
His sensual amusement faded. “Yes, just before I came in here.”
She concentrated her gaze on her fists as they rested against the hard plate of his breastbone. “And?”
He cupped her shoulders. “And, I don’t know. Your work is brilliant, but then you knew that. Something bothers me, and I haven’t been able to pinpoint what it is. It’s like trying to say that word that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue. You know the word is there and you’ve used it many times before, but you can’t quite think to say it.”
“Try harder.”
His fingers tightened. “What’s wrong?”