Or something.”
Clay swallowed the insane urge to laugh as his adrenaline rush faded. He bit the insides of his cheeks and when that didn’t help, he bit his tongue in an aborted effort to stop the sputtering laugh that finally escaped. He immediately apologized. “It’s not funny. I know. I’m sorry.”
A choking sound spurted from her. She’d hidden her face in her hands so he snagged the robe from the back of the door and draped it across her shoulders and back. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and twisted her body so she could see him. Clay was surprised to see her biting her lips as if she, too, was trying to hold back her laughter. Then the robe gapped and he glimpsed the bruise on her ribs. He curled his hands into fists to keep from ripping the robe off to examine her. Those bastards had marked her with their idiotic stunt. That quelled his urge to laugh.
“You’re bruised, Georgie. And you have that bump on your head. I’d like a doctor to look at you, okay?”
Her forehead furrowed in confusion before she glanced down and saw what he was talking about. “Oh. I am. Huh.” Her gaze caught on his. “I was too busy being scared witless to notice, and it was dark so I couldn’t see...”
She rubbed absently at her pale skin, and Clay reminded himself Georgie was in his employ and traumatized. He was not as big a jerk as his father or brothers when it came to women. He refused to be, but damn if he wasn’t suddenly aware that Georgie had been hiding some very interesting attributes behind her boxy suits and thick glasses—said attributes all but staring him in the face, despite the modest cut of that red lingerie and the robe.
“I’ll have the house doctor check you once the electricity—” The lights flickered, steadied and remained on. “Speaking of. Ready to get into the shower now?”
Clay stood and extended his hand to help her up. Just as she clasped his fingers, another clap of thunder shook the building and the lights extinguished. He felt her tremble and hunkered down beside her once more. “It’s okay, Georgie.”
He swiped his phone and when the screen lit up, he tapped the flashlight app once more. “See? We have light.”
Georgie was panting again and a thin sheen of perspiration covered her face. “I’m sorry. This is stupid. I know it’s stupid and irrational.”
“Fear is—” The light on his phone dimmed and he glanced at the battery indicator. He flicked off the flashlight app, but the home-screen light cast a soft glow over Georgie’s face. “Sorry. I’m down to the dregs of battery life. We can go outside, into the bedroom.”
“No. There might be monsters under the bed.”
Clay studied her face in the ghostly glow of his cell. A hint of a smile tweaked her lips. Good. This was the Georgie he knew and...liked. Yes, definitely liked. He liked Georgie. She was his employee. He was only keeping her company in his bathroom because she’d had a traumatic day.
“I promise to slay the monsters.”
“Or legislate them out of existence?”
“I can do that. I’ll introduce a bill in the Senate. And then I’ll take you dancing in the dark.”
“Isn’t that a song?”
“Springsteen.”
She blinked at him, her eyes owlish behind the lenses of her glasses. “You’re a fan of the Boss?”
“Hey, just because I grew up on Waylon, Willie and the boys, doesn’t mean I don’t have refined tastes in music.”
That elicited a giggle. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Depends. Is it working?”
“Sort of.”
“Then yes.” He eased down to the floor, stretching his legs out. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark here—”
“Peter Sellers!”
“I’m sorry. You didn’t phrase that in the form of question.” He winked at her.
“Oh, getting technical, are we? Fine. I’ll take Dark for three hundred, Alex.”
“Hmm. Okay.” The light from his phone blinked out. Clay didn’t like Georgie’s quick inhalation. He tapped the phone, thinking it had just gone into sleep mode. Nothing happened. “Sorry, Georgie. I think the battery died.”
“O-okay. Um...can we keep playing?”
“Sure. Dark for three hundred, right?”
“Yes.”
“Ha! Got one. Michelle Pfeiffer plays the family matriarch in this—”
“What is Dark Shadows?”
Georgie laughed as he huffed in pretended frustration. “How did you know that?”
“Clay, your crush on Michelle Pfeiffer is not exactly a secret around the office.”
“It isn’t?” He did his best to sound both shocked and innocent, but damn if he didn’t like the sound of his name coming from between her lips. He couldn’t remember if she’d ever called him by his first name—at least not up close and personal like this.
“I’ll take Dark for a thousand, Alex.”
He racked his brain for an answer and when it came to him, he grinned. “Come to the dark side. We have cookies.”
A sound that was a cross between a giggle and snort erupted from Georgie. “How do you even know that?”
The next thing Clay knew, Georgie was laughing—a deep belly laugh that almost lit up the dark with its happy sound. And just like that, the lights blazed, chasing the shadows away. As she dissolved into more laughter, relieved this time, he joined her. This was a side of Georgie he appreciated—her irreverent sense of humor. Working, she was reserved, thoughtful, erudite. She had a way of boiling down an issue into sound bites. She was knowledgeable and intelligent and he thought of her as his personal... His thoughts trailed off as he stared into her eyes—eyes a shade of green he was currently trying, and failing, to describe.
With a start, he realized Georgie was no longer laughing. She’d devolved into hiccuping sobs. He hated tears. The women his father married too often resorted to them, but Georgie’s were real and earned. He gathered her close, stroking his palm down her back in long caresses.
“You’re okay, Georgie. You’re safe.”
She nodded, fighting for control. “I know. I’m...” She sniffed, looked around for a tissue, then gave up and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe. “Sorry, boss. I’m okay. Just...nerves. I hate the dark. Hate small spaces, especially in the dark.”
“Want to tell me?”
She shook her head but words tumbled out. “I was a kid. Got trapped in our old storm cellar. In the dark. Took my folks a couple of hours to find me.”
He tightened his arm around her and fought the urge to kiss the top of her head. “Yeah, that would not be
