Water glides off me as I rise up. Grabbing the oversized towel off the rack, I drape it around me, stepping out of the tub, one foot at a time, onto the plush white rug. The towel pools around my ankles as I reach for the black satin robe hanging on the hook by the bathroom door. I slip into the robe and rush to the front door, turning on lights as I racecloser.
I can just kill Emma. She always forgets to close the gate when she leaves, practically inviting solicitors to the front door. And it’s probably little Sarah from across the street, fixed on selling me another damn box of Girl Scout Cookies. She knows I’ve got a terrible weakness for ThinMints.
The bell rings again and I swing the door open, fully prepared to send little Sarah on herway.
No cookies today, Sarah,sorry.
Only, it’snotSarah.
Why can’t it beSarah?
I fidget, clenching the front part of my robe with one hand, and pat my unkempt bun with theother.
My cheeks are on fire.What is he even doinghere?
AntoniofuckingMichaels.
And,God,does he look perfectlyamazing.
Leather Jacket. Light Blue Jeans. Black, Pectoral-Hugging T-Shirt. OxfordShoes.
“Hey there.” A smile dances on his lips as his heady, dark blue eyes give me a sweeping once-over.
“If you’re looking for jelly donuts, you’ll have to look elsewhere,” I say, nose in the air, flashing a cynical side-eye.
He rubs his chin, smirks, and props his hand up against the door frame. “Do you ever have anything nice tosay?”
“Probably not.” I resist the urge to chuckle, despite the fact my lips have curved their way into a half-smile.
He runs his tongue across his upper lip, and I can see a playful gleam in his eyes as he surveys myensemble.
Satin Robe. Barefoot. MessyHair.
All that’s missing to round out myappearanceis a light green mud mask splattered over my entireface.
“Is this a bad time?” The sarcastic tone darts out of his mouth like a cork bursting out of a champagnebottle.
“I was having a relaxing bath. You know, to forget all about today’s events.” I glare at him and fold my arms, the realization of him standing at my door just settling in. “And what are you doing here? How did you findme?”
“Yeah. About that.” He taps his fingers along the edge of the door frame and briefly looks toward the sky before shifting his gaze back to me. “I was hoping we could go forward with the interview. For the PAposition?”
I stare at him for ten long seconds, maybe even more, before shrugging myshoulders.
“Listen,” he says, his shoulder now leaning on the door frame. “I know we had a rough start today, but there’s something about you that Ifind—”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “When and where would you like to have this interview? Tomorrow? Your downtown officeagain?”
With raised eyebrows, he replies in an inviting purr-like tone that makes my sensitive lady parts beg for a cold shower. “How about rightnow?”
