his gaze runs
up and down my body. My blood chills.
“No.” His answer is concise, rude, and dismissive. I
stand there like the idiot I professed not to be and then
shuffle back out of his office. Perhaps he too suffers from a
personality disorder. Sheesh, I’m surrounded by them. I
make my way to the photocopier—which of course is
suffering from a paper jam—and when I’ve fixed it, I find
it’s out of paper. This is not my day.
When I am finally back at my desk, stuffing envelopes,
my Blackberry buzzes. I can see through the glass wall that
Jack is on the phone. I answer—it’s Ethan.
“Hi, Ana. How’d it go last night?”
Last night. A quick montage of images flashes through
my mind—Christian kneeling, his revelation, his proposal,
macaroni and cheese, my weeping, his nightmare, the sex,
touching him . . .
“Eh . . . fine,” I mutter unconvincingly.
Ethan pauses and decides to collude in my denial.
“Cool. Can I collect the keys?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be over in about half an hour. Will you ha一ve time
to grab a coffee?”
“Not today. I was late getting in, and my boss is like an
angry bear with a sore head and poison ivy up his ass.”
“Sounds nasty.”
“Nasty and ugly.” I giggle.
Ethan laughs and my mood lifts a little. “Okay. See you
in thirty.” He hangs up.
I glance up at Jack and he’s staring at me. Oh shit. I
studiously ignore him and continue to stuff envelopes.
Half an hour later my phone buzzes. It’s Claire. “He’s
here again, in reception. The blond god.”
Ethan is a joy to see after all the angst of yesterday and
the bad temper my boss is inflicting on me today, but all
too soon, he’s saying his good-byes.
“Will I see you this evening?”
“I’ll probably stay with Christian.” I flush.
“You ha一ve got it bad,” Ethan observes goodnaturedly.
I shrug. That’s not the half of it, and in that moment I
realize, I ha一ve it more than bad. I ha一ve it for life. And
amazingly, Christian seems to feel the same. Ethan gives
me a swift hug.
“Laters, Ana.”
I return to my desk, wrestling with my realiza
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