What he said made me curious, so I went on, “What do you do to deal with the stress?”
He gave me a wan smile, and there was something in his expression that struck me as sad somehow. Rubbing at his chin, he answered, “Hmmm, when I’m stressed out…a nice glass of top shelf whiskey usually does the trick.”
“That makes sense,” I said and walked around his desk before taking a seat in front of him. “You know, I always thought it was poor people who did drugs, to escape the bleakness of their realities. Now I’m thinking maybe the practice is most common at the top and the bottom of the ladder. Perhaps the best place to be is somewhere in the middle.”
“Not necessarily. I’m at the top. Do I look high to you?”
The deadpan way in which he said it made me laugh. I leaned forward and teased, “I’m not sure. Let me have a look at your pupils.” Surprising me, King rose from his seat, walked around his desk and came to kneel in front of me. Before I knew it his face was mere inches from mine.
“Go ahead,” he said, voice low.
Whoa, Oliver King’s face right up close…I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I guess he didn’t realise the effect he had on this very non-gay lady, because he seemed entirely unselfconscious. His eyes were beautiful, his lashes long and golden, his skin smooth with a hint of stubble around his jaw, and his lips were just…I had no words. Sculpted and masculine was probably the only way I could think to describe them.
I realised I was staring at those lips a little too closely when my eyes flicked back to his. A moment ago he was smiling, but now that smile was transforming into a thoughtful frown.
I cleared my throat. “Your pupils look fine.”
King exhaled a small breath and I watched as his attention went from my eyes to my cheeks, nose, chin, and then finally to my lips. He looked like he was about to say something when suddenly Gillian’s voice filled the room.
“Mr King, Jenson Gellar is on the phone. Shall I put him through?”