"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

His eyes narrow fractionally. "I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

I press my lips together, displeased by that notion. "That's assuring, considering you're the one who stole it from me in the first place."

"How about we shake on it?" he asks, extending his hand into the space between us. When I make no move to return the handshake, he waggles his fingers wildly. "Oh, come on. Humor me."

I sigh and, without letting myself think too deeply about what I'm doing, grudgingly reach up to slide my palm against his. The feeling of his callused skin against the soft pads of my fingertips jolts through me like static shock. It takes all my self-control not to react as he squeezes my hand and pumps it slowly up and down, his eyes locked on mine.

After a few seconds of torture, I yank my hand from his warm grip and spin away. I practically sprint over to the computer sitting on his desk. I feel him following close at my heels and do my best to ignore his presence.

Just fix the computers, get your flash drive, and get out of here before you do something you regret. Like jump his bones.

To my great annoyance, when we reach the desk he pulls out the computer chair for me to sit. He may be an ass, but he's a gentlemanly ass.

"Milady," he says with a mocking bow.

I flip him off and drop into the leather seat, wiggling the mouse to activate the screen.

"What did you change my password to?" he asks, watching my fingers key in the phrase.

I smirk. "Parker West Wets His Pants. One word. All lowercase."

"And you accuse me of being immature?"

"You are immature."

"Just fix the damn network."

I ignore him and get to work. It only takes a few minutes - blasting a dam apart is a lot easier than building one from scratch - and when I tap out the final sequence of code, I look up to find Parker staring at me incredulously.

"What?"

"Who are you?" he mutters, something like awe in his tone. "CIA? NSA? FBI? Some other three-lettered agency whose name is too classified for public consumption?"

I shrug, push back the chair, and rise to my feet. "I'm the girl who'll kick your ass if you don't fork over her flash drive."

He grimaces. "Here's the thing..."

I go still.

"...I don't exactly have it," he finishes.

"What?" The word cracks out like a whip. "We had a deal! Don't fuck with me, playboy, or so help me, I will hack into the FBI database, steal your fingerprints, frame you for murder, and send you to rot in prison for the rest of your days."

"That's rather elaborate," he says, chuckling. "You've really given my demise some thought."

"Would you like a cellmate named Diablo or Hulk?" I tilt my head. "Then again, it probably doesn't matter. I'm sure either of them will be happy to make you their new bitch."

"Chill, Piper Chapman. You didn't let me finish. I don't have the flash drive with me." He grins, totally unaffected by my death threats, and reaches out to grab my hand. I'm so stunned by the casual action, I don't even move to pull away until it's too late.

"Where is it?" I ask as he starts walking, tugging me behind him. His fingers are fully intertwined with mine - I feel the soothing stroke of his thumb against the back of my hand when I try to squirm loose.

"Patience, grasshopper." He holds the door to his office open for me to step through. "You'll see."

"You expect me to just go along with you without asking any questions?" I stare hard at the spot between his shoulder blades as he leads us down the hallway. "I'm not one of your stupid bimbos. I don't even know you!"

He slams to a halt so suddenly, I almost run straight into him. When he turns his head to catch my gaze, there's something simmering at the back of his eyes. It looks like a challenge.

"You're afraid."

"Of you? Hate to break it to you, but no." My denial is swift. "I could kick your ass."

"Doubtful," he mutters. "But that's not what I was talking about."

I raise my eyebrows.

"You're afraid to be alone with me."

I snort. "Oh, please."

"You're afraid you won't be able to control yourself in my proximity."

"Get over yourself."

"You're afraid, my sweet snookums, that one more minute in my presence will make you fall head over heels-"

"If you stop talking right now and don't say another word until we get the flash drive, I'll go with you."

His lips slam shut and his eyes crinkle in an undeniable smile. He's clearly pleased with himself.

"Great." I try to tug my hand from his grip, but he's still holding tight. With a sigh of resignation, I give up and use our linked arms to gesture at the elevator. "Lead the way, man-child."

He squeezes my hand before we start walking.

6.

The Tipping Point

I should've known Parker wouldn't be able to stay quiet for more than twenty-five seconds. We're barely inside the elevator when he starts up again.

"So, I know we're going to get the flash drive, but what are your thoughts about stopping for thai food on the way?"

My jaw clenches and I glare over at him. "Do you know the definition of silence? Also known as quiet? Noiseless? Mute?"

"Would you believe it - none of those sound familiar."

"I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth."

He gasps dramatically and drops his voice low. "You wound me!"

"Fatally?" I ask hopefully.

"I'll recover." He grins and swings our interlocked hands in the space between us. "You know, you should be nicer to me."

"I don't do things that make me want to stab my eyes out." I bury a laugh beneath a bitchy tone. "As a general rule."

"You didn't want to stab my eyes out last night."

He moves closer.

I shuffle away as far as his arm will allow.

How many more floors until we reach the fucking ground and I can put some much-needed distance between us?

Parker's voice goes husky. "Last night... You wanted to do something entirely different with me."

I swallow and ignore the burst of warmth in my stomach. "Push you off a cliff?"

"No, not that." He takes a stride into my space.

I side-step until my hip presses against the elevator wall, refusing to look at him. "Run you down with my car?"

"Nope." He leans closer and his palm tightens against mine.

"Set your clothes on fire?"

"Well, maybe, but only because you want to see what I look like naked underneath them."

I whip my head around to snap something snarky at him and practically butt noses with the man. He's close - dangerously close - and his eyes are locked on my mouth. Whatever I was about to say evaporates in an instant.

"No snappy retort?" he murmurs.

I try to summon words, but nothing comes out. He's invaded all my senses like some kind of plague and completely disabled my ability to speak.

His face tilts closer. "No sassy comeback?"

I tell myself to move out of his path.

My feet don't seem to cooperate.

He leans in so close I know he's about to kiss me... And, god help me, I'm about to let him. I'm a statue, waiting for that last shred of distance to disintegrate, waiting to be consumed once more by the passion that filled my veins last night, the desire that still laces my blood like a deadly neurotoxin...

"No witty insult?" he whispers, his mouth practically on mine.

I lick my lips.

And then the elevator jolts to a stop.

There's a chime and a metallic hum as the doors slide open, snapping me out of my daze. I pull away from Parker so fast he loses his grip on my hand and is left clutching only air as I practically race from the elevator, whirling around to glare at him as soon as there's some distance between us.

"You!" I bark. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" he asks innocently, a heated look in his eyes.

"You know what." I'm breathing hard; it takes effort to get my pulse under control.

"I really don't," he says, following me into the lobby.

It's odd to see such a busy office hub totally empty - I guess he wasn't kidding about sending everyone home early. I have a hard time reconciling the fact that the joking, adorable - shit, I mean obnoxious, annoying - playboy is actually in charge of so many people. The idea of him as a boss is totally at odds with the Parker I've encountered thus far. He's so charming and lighthearted - fuck, I mean infuriating and tiresome - it's tough to keep in mind that he's one of the most influential businessmen in the city.

"I mean it." I point at him menacingly as he advances on me. "No more."

"No more what?" His grin widens as I backpedal through the deserted atrium toward the doors to the street. "No more riding in elevators? That's going to be inconvenient. My office is on the top floor."

"No more trying to kiss me in elevators," I correct, still backing away from him like he's in possession of a deadly weapon.

Who am I kidding?

His lips are a deadly weapon.

To my great shock, he freezes, adopts a contemplative look, and gives a slow nod of agreement. "Fine. I won't do it anymore."

I'm so surprised he caved without a fight, I draw to a halt, leaving about ten feet of space between us. I pretend not to notice the faint flicker of disappointment in the pit of my stomach.

"Really?" My voice is skeptical.

"Sure." He shrugs. "I'm not unreasonable."

I stare at him warily for a long time and find no signs of insincerity in his expression.

"Okay," I say finally, accepting the remote possibility that he's being serious. "Can we go get this over with, then?"

"Of course," he says, his tone totally professional as he walks to my side and falls into step beside me. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He's strangely silent all the way to the doors.