An Instant Connection (Insta-Spark)

Watching him design anything was magical. Listening to him discussing concepts and the engineering aspect of projects was sexy. He used his gorgeous hands a lot when he spoke, at times drawing in the air. I loved watching him. I had a difficult time hiding my admiration, and trying not to think of the way his hands felt on my skin.

For the first time since starting at the company, I could honestly say I enjoyed my job. He did that for me. I was challenged, busy, and appreciated. He never failed to say thank you. His smile when I would slide a fresh coffee by his elbow warmed my chest. His praise when I would assist him was heartfelt, and I found myself going above and beyond for him.

His texts still came every night. Usually, one line, but somehow he managed to express so much in them.

I love working with you.

You were amazing today. Thank you.

I love that shade of green on you. Wear it more often, okay?

I hated watching you leave today. Monday seems too far away.

I miss you, Mandy. Tell me you want to figure this out. Please, sweetheart.

Memories of our time played through my mind. His words, his humor, the way he touched me—the explosive passion we had together. If I were being honest, I hated leaving him too. But there was so much at stake. I needed my job. I had to decide if I could trust him again.

I didn’t reply to his message.

Mitch looked tired all week, and on Thursday, he was hit with a deadline and a design change he hadn’t expected. He worked all day, barely leaving his desk. Around seven, I went into his office and slid a coffee by his elbow. He glanced up, startled.

“I thought you had left.”

“No. I wanted to stay and see if I could help.”

He picked up the coffee and sipped. “This helps.”

“Good. I got some sandwiches.”

He captured my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.” He looked toward the sofa. “Eat with me? I need the distraction.”

“Okay.”

He devoured the simple meal I brought him while I nibbled. He sat back, draining the soda, and wiping his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

My soda froze part way to my mouth. He shut his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry. Thanks, Mandy.”

I focused my eyes on the floor. It had felt so good to hear him call me sweetheart.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled.

“It’s how I think of you all the time. My Mandy. My sweetheart.”

I glanced up, my fingers playing with the edge of my skirt. “You think of me?”

“Every damn minute of every damn day—and night.”

Our gazes locked. He leaned closer. “You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep.” He snorted. “If I sleep.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I whispered. I knew why I was having trouble finding rest.

“Because all I can think about is if I had been honest from the get-go and confessed who I was and that I would be working here, we could have figured this out together. The instant chemistry between us was too hot to have been denied and I knew we would have come up with something. Instead, I tried to buy myself some time. Stupid move on my part.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I never thought how it might affect you, job-wise. I’m sorry for that. For all of it, actually.”

He stood with a defeated smile. “At least I get to see you every day. Talk to you.” He lifted his shoulder. “Hear you laugh. I love your laugh. It helps me get through the day.”