By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site. An Excerpt From: CHEMISTRY WITH CALVIN Copyright © KATIE ALLEN, 2014 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. There he was—the object of her inexplicable crush. He didn’t turn as Lauren studied his profile but kept his head bent and continued to sort the mail. His hair was long and untidy, as was his beard. Both were black—not the not-quite-black of hers, which sparked red and brown in the sun, but a deep, true blue-black. It was hard to tell what kind of body he was hiding under the slouchy layers of clothes he wore but it was obvious he was a big guy. Despite the camouflage, Lauren was pretty sure he was in good shape. Just watching him move as he made his daily mail delivery on the eighth floor proved that. His movements were smooth, even graceful, surprisingly so for such a large man. She cleared her throat. “So, um…hi.” Lauren winced. Okay, this is a little awkward. She hadn’t really planned anything beyond the walking-into-the-mailroom stage. He didn’t look up, didn’t even hesitate as he sorted the mail. Lauren bit her bottom lip and forced herself to take another step forward. “I’m sorry to interrupt but…” She stopped, not sure how to finish that sentence. But I think you’re really hot for some strange, beard-loving reason? She shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts from ricocheting around in her brain. Focus. “Problem?” he grunted, still not looking up from his work. Yeah. I’m attracted to a mail troll. “Ah…no. I was down here for, um, highlighters,” she waved a box and immediately felt like an idiot, even if he wasn’t looking at her, “and thought I’d, well, introduce myself.” He looked at her, just a bare glance, but Lauren jumped slightly. That was why she was lurking in the basement with a taciturn hairy man. His eyes were gorgeous—dark and narrow and rimmed with a ridiculous length of lashes. When they focused on her, even though it was for just a fraction of a second, she felt the impact like a physical shove. The eye contact, as brief as it was, gave Lauren courage. “I see you every day but I hardly ever get any mail, so I’ve never had a chance to actually meet you. I’m Lauren Mayes.” Mustering up the last dregs of her nerve, she took the four steps necessary to bring him into reach and extended her hand. He sighed silently. She saw the lift and fall of his shoulders. Lauren’s hand quivered in midair, alone and unshaken. Biting the edge of her lip again, she wondered how long she should leave it hanging there before letting it drop to her side and slinking out of the mailroom, completely and utterly rejected. When he closed his hand around hers, Lauren was so relieved she gasped and then tried to turn the sound into a question. “So what’s your name?” Instead of shaking her hand, he just held it silently for a long moment, studying her intently. Those eyes were going to make her start hyperventilating for sure. “Calvin,” he finally said, releasing her hand and letting it fall, tingling, back to her side. “Calvin!” she repeated, too loudly, flustered by the oddness of the meeting and the intensity of her reaction to this strange man. “Good to meet you.” With a grunt, he turned back to the mail in front of him. “So, I’ll be seeing you around then.” She took a hesitant step back toward the door. As unnerving as this experience was, Lauren really didn’t want it to end. He gave another grunt. “Goodbye.” With a final glance at this hulking, unkempt, oddly fascinating man, she left the mailroom. “Fuck.” The muttered word echoed around the room as Calvin stared at the closed door. What the hell was that? He shook his head and turned his unseeing gaze back to the carton of mail in front of him. Why had Lauren Hayes wandered down to the bowels of the TechnoCorp building just to introduce herself? He snorted. As if he didn’t already know who she was. Every day, just after three o’clock in the afternoon, he passed by her desk on his way to deliver mail to the tightlipped blonde next to her. Cal tried to keep his head down when he was making his rounds. It was important to stay unnoticed, stay anonymous, stay safe. When he passed Lauren, though, he was always tempted to glance up, to see the dimples pressed into her cheeks when she smiled at him, to check whether her eyes looked gray or blue that day. Most of the time he could resist, although there was no way to avoid her scent, sweet and warm, with the slightest edge of interest. The smell of her filled his head and heated his blood, gave him ideas he shouldn’t be having—not if he wanted to stay under the radar. If she was coming down to visit him in the mailroom, though… Cal blew out a hard breath. How was he supposed to resist her now?