The Superfox Read Online Free Page A

before she crashed and landed on her face in the snow. Mark was there moments later, helping her up and dusting the crusted snow off her shoulders and back. She felt a little silly, but...
    “Still worth it.”
    “You won't say that when your nose falls off from frostbite. Come on.”
    As they hurried inside, the wind almost whipped the shield out of Mark's hand. He had his office badge on under his coat and opened the door for her, and they quickly shed their borrowed coats, dropping them on the tile. The only thing warm on Lissa were her snow-burned cheeks and rubber-wrapped feet, and she felt immediately better as soon as she was stripped out of the wet wool and down to her own jeans, long-sleeved tee, and extra-long, moss-green cardigan, which she thought of as her Jedi robe.
    Mark's cheeks were red, a black hoodie hanging loose over his black tee and kilt, which was a plaid of dark green and navy. His sweatpants were crumpled and wet on the floor with all their other layers, and his muscular legs were pink from the cold and lightly furred with golden curly hair. He looked hot as hell, like he'd just been doing something manly and fun, like playing rugby or tossing a frisbee with his dog. After all the time she'd spent with her programmers, it was refreshing to meet a geek guy who managed to balance peculiarity with classic manliness and style. And he smelled like the woods in winter, which made her want to step close and initiate a second kiss, one that wouldn't be broken up by the stupid Snowpocalypse.
    “Back upstairs?” he asked, and in another place, she would've jumped on the chance to go upstairs with him. But he was just talking about the office.
    “Coffee,” she said.
    He shrugged. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. Or sweet and iced.” Picking up his shield and leaving everything else behind, he waited for her to walk by his side down the long hallway.
    “So you don't drink coffee? It's like I don't even know you.”
    “You don't. Coffee makes me hyper. And I'm hyper enough as it is.”
    “Then how do you wake up in the morning?”
    He pushed the elevator button and turned a devastating smile on her.
    “I don't.”
    “Like, ever?”
    The elevator binged open, and they stepped in.
    “I do my best work when I wake up at noon and go to bed around three in the morning. So my schedule's totally bizarre. As it turns out, models aren't big fans of early morning call times, anyway. All part of my deal with Dr. Horne.”
    “So that's why I never see you.”
    His head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
    Lissa blushed, just a little, but didn't drop her chin. “I've been here three years, and I think I've seen you once. I would have noticed you, is all.”
    Mark stepped closer and smoldered at her.
    “And why's that?”
    “Because you look like Thor and Loki had a hot slashfic kid who cosplays a goth Viking.”
    He licked his lips and looked like his jaw might've considered dropping open at her brazenness.
    She smirked and stepped off the elevator and into the Interprog foyer, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You're not used to women actually saying what they mean, are you?”
    “Hell, no. But I like it.”
    She shot him a pointed look over her shoulder and swung her hips as she walked down the hall.
    “Good.”
    Instead of catching up to walk beside her, he hung behind, probably admiring her behind. Well, let him. If he played his cards right, maybe he could figure out which superhero's logo was on her panties. And she would finally find out what a photographer wears under his kilt.
    * * *
    True to her word, Lissa made a beeline for the break room and her untouched pot of fancy coffee. With no hive of sugar-crashed programmers waiting to snag it, the pot had ripened perfectly and lurked in the glass carafe like a tar pit waiting to smother yawns. Her favorite mug was clean and sitting on the counter, and she added two sugars and four vanilla creamers and tipped back her head to sip, knowing Mark wouldn't be