Stormy Night by Jade Stratton Page B

instinct for self-preservation. She flung open the door to her office and sat down behind her desk with a squish on her expensive executive chair. Then she logged into her computer with angry keystrokes. What a fucking night . She decided that she would just have to kill Bob, just strangle the living shit out of him.
    She shivered as the screen came to life. The office was usually cold during the day when everyone was here. At night, the building manager didn’t turn down the air conditioning and it was like an icebox.
    “Here,” Jack said from behind her as he put a shipping blanket around her shoulders. It was scratchy, but clean. “It’s not much, but it should help a little.”  
    Shocked, she turned from her work to look up at him. He stood there with an unsure, awkward expression on his face. Jack had always been the quiet guy in the office, the dedicated nerd with a wry sense of humor who fixed the computers, the brainiac who helped folks like Anne figure out problems that went beyond simple IT support. Anne had never really paid him much attention except when she needed something from him, and like most of the other folks in the office had generally taken him for granted.
    In this one tiny act of chivalry, getting her a blanket to help keep her warm, without her even asking, he’d shown her more consideration than any of the men she’d ever dated. She had expected him to say something idiotic about what a mess she was from the storm or ogle her breasts like the guard had, as if she were some piece of meat in a wet T-shirt contest.  
    But he hadn’t. His eyes were on hers, not looking down at her chest and the nipples that were standing tall and proud from the chill. As she thought about Jack in that brief moment, she couldn’t recall a time when she’d caught him checking her out or mentally undressing her as every other man in the office had. Well, except for the few who happened to be gay.
    “Thank you, Jack,” she told him, her foul mood evaporating like a deflating balloon. She reached out and touched his hand. “That was very sweet of you.”  
    Behind his glasses, Jack blinked. “Uh, you’re welcome,” he replied. “But you’re still going to freeze with all those wet clothes on.” Then he shifted his gaze over her shoulder, toward the computer screen.  
    Turning around, Anne saw that all the data windows were gone and the screen was black except for a blinking error code. “Perfect,” she growled, the frustrations of the evening returning in a rush.
    “I know what’s wrong,” Jack reassured her. “The system update this afternoon was a total bug-fest. That’s why I’m here so late. I already patched your machine, but didn’t have time to finish before you got here. While I’m doing that, why don’t you go back to the storage room and see if you can do something with those clothes? I saw some packaged paint coveralls back there the contractors left behind from the redecorating last month.” He offered her a shy smile. “I know they’re not exactly your style, but they might fit you.”
    “Okay,” Anne said, getting up from her chair, which now was wet from her soaked jeans. “But you should find something to put on my seat so you don’t get…wet.”
    Jack had already jumped into her chair and was battering away at the computer keyboard.
    With a bemused smile, she shook her head and headed back to the storage room. She found the coveralls he’d mentioned, still in a plastic wrapper. She took them off the shelf, then paused. Through the doorway of the storage room, she had a direct view to her office and could see Jack, still madly typing away. She paused there for a moment to watch him, surprised by what she saw.  
    While everyone considered Jack a nerd, as she looked at him now he didn’t really fit the nerd stereotype. Sure, he wore glasses, but they were nice looking, if not fancy; they certainly weren’t the dreaded “Birth Control Glasses” that some of his