Very, very distracting.
Focus.
But no matter how calm she managed to get as they sat there together, the humming feeling remained. Maybe serenity wasn’t enough.
At lunchtime, they made passable ham sandwiches from the ingredients she’d stashed in the history-department kitchen and brought the food back to her office. He seemed more comfortable in the Inferno, and it was probably the place where she could do the least harm—no tech beyond her computer and telephone. Well, and the lights, depending on one’s definition of technology.
Good grief, why had she never thought to ask?
She waited for Hartgrave to finish chewing the bite of sandwich he was working on, then pounced. “What everyday items have magic in them?”
“Daggett, for the love of—”
“No, Ineedto know,” she protested. “What if I hadn’t mentioned I was driving home this weekend?”
He looked appropriately discomfited. “You’re right—I’m sorry. Computers and anything with an embedded computer.”
“That’s—um—a lot of things, isn’t it?”
“Airplanes, mobile phones, cameras, watches, microwaves and just about every other household appliance, to name a few.”
She chewed her lip, trying to think through her technology mishaps. “I’ve never been on a plane or owned a camera or cell phone—”
“Good God, you’re aLuddite.”
“Well, it’s a good thing, don’t you think? Anyway, Ihavehad many watches, all dead now, but I use the microwave upstairs all the time and I’ve never damaged it. At least, I don’t think I have.”
He poured himself more water and handed her the bottle, the unexpected brush of his fingers against hers sparking the nerve endings halfway up her arm. “You probably aren’t spending enough time with your hands on it. The entire box isn’t magic, so it has some protection. You’d have to stand there touching it for a while.”
She rubbed her arm absentmindedly and sighed. “Like I do with my wretched PC.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you manage to get anything done on computers before you became my problem? Or did you never own one of those either?”
Her laugh was rueful. “My family did, but wouldn’t you know, it never worked right, so I lost interest. In college, I wrote my essays out longhand and typed them up in the computer lab. Made it through without mishap, usually.”
“No doubt because you didn’t use any of the machines there for long,” he said.
Something about his gaze made her feel almost as itchy as if he were touching her. Then his words penetrated. “Wouldn’t that mean I’d be okay in the car?”
He shot her one of his patented looks. “Don’t bank your life on it. You’ve been lucky, Daggett—you shouldn’t push it.”
She rested her head in her hands. Her dangerous, dangerous hands. There had to be a way to get home,hadto ...
“Come with me,” she said, looking up at him. Begging him.
His eyes widened. Then he narrowed them, like he was trying to read her and couldn’t.
“Come on.” She put a hand on his bare arm without thinking and felt the zing past the crook of her elbow this time. A bit breathlessly, she added: “You haven’treallylived in Iowa until you’ve spent a few nights on a farm.”
“I don’t think I’m the ideal addition to a family holiday,” he muttered.
“My parents would be delighted. It’s just the three of us, and half our board games require four at minimum.” She managed a lopsided grin. “Really, you’d be very welcome. Unless—unless you have other plans?”
“No.” He sounded irresolute. He looked over his shoulder, toward the corridor outside her office.
“So come. Good company, great food and I won’t have to worry about careening off the road ...”
He snapped back to attention.“No,” he said again. But this time it wasn’t irresolute. More like furious.
