Our eyes met and suddenly I wasn’t thinking about work anymore. My brain darted back to her eyes and how they lit up when she was excited about something. Her lips and the way they puckered when she was annoyed with me. I wondered what those lips tasted like. She glanced at the pen in her hand, as if remembering it was there, then touched the tip to the side of her neck. Moving her hand slowly, she absently traced it down her skin, toward the open collar of her shirt. My eyes followed, drawn toward the swell of her breasts behind that tantalizingly proper blouse. Then I noticed she’d drawn a
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