She could feel the sweat forming on her skin; the crowded room, the lights, the coughing... Her suit pants and jacket became uncomfortable, sticking to her body in all the wrong places. She felt so restricted- the urge, like an itch, to rip her silky mocha hair from its bun and let it cascade down her back, to rip off her clothes and bask in the sunlight...
Not now, she told herself. Focus! This is an emergency press conference and I need to report it well. Fuck, Mark needs me to report this well.
Oh, Mark. Her editor. Wasn't that supposed to spell "trouble"? Her stomach clenched at the thought of him, heart beat quickening, nipples standing erect as statues, the sweat suddenly becoming reminiscent of something more carnal than press conferences. The flash of last night: *soaking sheets, gasping for breath, Mark's muscled arms collapsed affectionately and protectively over her heaving naked breasts.*
She felt her face flushing, her concentration slipping further and she forced herself to focus on the mayor, on his beer belly and balding head, on his cracked freckled lips and the news they emitted.
"We've already held an emergency meeting- we will get to the bottom of this. This city does not tolerate hate crimes and that is exactly what we are taking this horrific sabotage of our cultural center to be! If you have any information..."
Over, finally. Now she just had to get to the newsroom and come up with an article. Then she could see Mark, go back to their newly shared apartment and take a long shower and read the latest thriller she'd picked up...
Trowsley News headquarters was small and she slipped into her little booth after maneuvering around countless other little booths and busy reporters and seemingly uncountable coffee cups. Her fingers attacked the keyboard with the ferocity that only passionate writers have until the article was finished. She picked up her phone, dialed extension 240, her fingers trembling slightly in anticipation of the voice that would appear on the other end...
"Hello?" answered an obviously stressed masculine voice.
She cleared her throat, "Mayor's press conference is finished."
"Jossy!" his voice immediately blossomed into something affectionate, surprised, pleased. "I'll be right down."
Jocelyn smiled to herself. Even though they'd been seeing each other for over six months, they'd agreed to keep their private lives separate from their careers. He might be her editor here, but, damn, he was her lover everywhere else and it certainly showed in his reaction to her on the phone. She was lost in a land of intimate moments and steamy nights when she felt the hand on her shoulder. Startled, she turned and drowned in those puppy dog hazel eyes and resisted the urge to kiss his lips as his mouth pulled into that sexy, slanted smile. He licked his lips, winked at her, and she felt a furnace between her legs. She knew she was already wet.
He pulled a chair next to hers. Technically, he could access her work from any computer in the newsroom, but he had always preferred the old-fashioned way of surveying article and author on the same page, so to speak. His eyes glued on the computer screen, never leaving the smudges of words, he murmured, "Baby, it's gonna be a late night. Don't wait up, OK?"
Cat-like, Jocelyn stretched her arms back and her chest out, "Well, I was going to take a shower and read for a while. I won't go out of my way to stay up for you, though."
He felt a slight flutter of disappointment. Some of their most passionate moments had been after he'd had long, stressful, late nights at the News, but it seemed Jossy wasn't interested this time. Quite suddenly, his scanning eyes stopped moving and creases formed on his forehead.
"John didn't say... this?"
