Page 41 of No Headlines Please

Screw it. I glanced once more toward the elevators and then gingerly pinched the folded top of the Benny's Burgers bag between two fingers. Slowly, carefully, I lifted the bag to reveal – thank heaven – the crumpled receipt.

With my free hand, I reached out to grab it, only to freeze in mid-motion when I heard the elevator give an ominous ding.

I looked up just in time to see the elevator doors slide open and reveal who?

Mrs. Stelter.

For one long, terrible moment, neither of us moved. She was wearing a tailored black pantsuit and pearls. Her hair was stylish. Her makeup was perfect. She was clutching a designer handbag at her side.

Me? I was still clutching the burger bag.

I opened my mouth to explain, but the only sound that came out was a strangled laugh that wasn't remotely funny.

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. She made no move to leave the elevator. Instead, she stiffly reached out and punched one of the buttons – probably the P for penthouse. A moment later, the doors slid shut, leaving me alone once again.

I called out to the empty space, "It's not what you think!"

Shit.

Well, there was no going back now.

I grabbed the receipt, dropped the burger bag back into the trash, and scrambled to pick up the lid. I slapped it back into place just as another ding echoed through the lobby.

It wasn't the same elevator. Thank God.

By the time its doors slid open to let out two guys in polo shirts, the receipt was officially mine.

Victory?

Eh, that was debatable.

I tried to look casual as the two guys crossed the lobby and left the building without incident.

I still had two hours to get ready for my coffee date.

I'd already showered first thing this morning.

But yeah, I'd be showering again.

17

Nooners Not Included

Maddox

From the lobby's sofa, I spotted Delaney the moment the elevator doors slid open.

She stepped out alone and then paused. Her gaze moved left and then right before flicking nervously toward the building's front entrance, like she was expecting a SWAT team to burst through the door.

I stood. Was something wrong?

But then, her gaze landed on me, and she smiled. The smile hit me hard in all the right places, and when she moved forward, I crossed the lobby to meet her halfway.

She'd traded last night's cocktail dress for jeans and a beige sweater. The jeans were faded, and the sweater was loose. And yet, I couldn't seem to look away.

When we reached each other, she asked, "I'm not late, am I?"

"No, you're early." I checked my watch. "By three minutes."