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Chapter 1
Madison
In fifteen minutes, I could lose the opportunity of a lifetime, and it’s all because of my dryer.
A gust of hot air threatens to blow my skirt up as I run over a vent on the sidewalk, but I’ve lived in New York long enough to have noticed it. My hands go to my sides as I press Tessa’s skirt flat against me. There’s no way that I’m taking a chance on the world seeing the granny panties I’m wearing.
My heels click across the pavement, but the sound is swallowed up by the hundreds of people around me. I slide past two men in business suits in front of the World Bank building and curse my dryer again. Other than printers, I don’t think there’s a single machine in the world that has caused so many people to be late.
I can still make it if I run.
Running in heels is miserable, but wearing Tessa’s skirt is even worse. Mine’s still sitting in my dryer, soaking wet.
I’m used to simple, professional skirts, but this one is supposed to be “cute”. It’s far too tight to be running marathon sprints like I am now. It has a belt that ties in a stupidly large bow on the side. Not my first choice for a big interview, but it’s literally the only option I had available.
Throwing the door open and stepping into the World Bank building, I look around for the nearest elevator. My interview is with Emery Brooks, head of creative for Aspire, the most prestigious advertising firm in New York City. It’s not the biggest, but it has a reputation for being groundbreaking.
There they are. Across the lobby on the northeast side. The scent of a hundred different colognes blend in the crowd into an almost nauseating smell. The tail of the bow brushes against the back of my leg, and I make a mental note to turn my skirt around if I survive this final mad dash.
My eyes stay focused on the gold of the elevators, shining in the bright lights, as I silently pray for one of them to open. I don’t have time to wait ten minutes for a ride to the twenty-seventh floor.
My prayers are answered, and I silently thank whoever is listening as one of the doors slide open. A group of people in expensive suits step out. Another man walks in, and as I get closer, I try to shout to hold the elevator, but it’s swallowed up by the crowds. I push myself to run faster, even though my lungs are already burning. I have to get into that elevator.
Seconds tick by, and I’m almost there. The door hasn’t closed yet.I’m going to make it! I’m an arm-length away from the door as they begin to close, but I slip through, managing to keep from getting squished in the process.
I’m gasping for breath as the door closes behind me, and I lean against it. When my oxygen-starved brain finally realizes that there’s another person in the elevator, I notice that he’s grinning at me. “Running late?” he asks.
Maybe it’s the fact that I almost died from that sprint, but Mr. Suit in front of me is freaking gorgeous. Dark brown hair that has that purposefully messy look. Beautiful green eyes. A jawline that was made for movies with boxers. And tall enough that I have to look up at him. He looks like the kind of guy that’s gotten around, though. Just a little slutty even if he’s wearing a suit. Not my type at all.
Nope. Definitely not my type of man. Though, he could absolutely be one of my book boyfriends…
I nod, too out of breath to think of a snarky response. The elevator shakes, and I realize I haven’t hit the button for the twenty-seventh floor, and as I try to take a step forward, I hit resistance. “What the…” I mutter as I turn around to see what’s holding me in place.
The bow on my skirt is sitting squarely below my spine. And it’s wedged in the door. Panic races through me as I know what’s about to happen, but I’m too slow.
As the elevator races up to the top of the building, my skirt is ripped down my legs, pulled to my feet, and immediately trips me as it’s sucked through the doors. Time seems to slow as I find myself in the air and staring at the gold below me. I expect to hit the ground hard, but strong arms wrap around me, catching me before anything’s hurt except my pride.
I look up at the handsome man with the smile. “Are you okay?” he asks as I get my feet under me. His smile has turned into a look of concern, but I barely hear him over the sound of my heart beating a thousand times a minute. I could have died. Or lost a leg. Or some other terrible catastrophe.
He releases me, and I see his eyes move lower. And just the slightest hint of a grin curls the corners of his lips. What’s he grinning about? I follow his view and finally, my oxygen-starved, post-near death brain understands what happens when an elevator eats your skirt.
The hot-but-slutty guy who saved you gets to see your granny panties.
Horror is the only word I can use to describe the sensation of knowing that I’m standing in an elevator without a skirt on while wearing the most hideous panties in the world. Silver satin and more than a little floofy in the backside.
What’s worse than that? Oh yeah, the fact that I’m supposed to be going to an interview.
Well, I guess we can just rule out getting a perfect job at this point. The best I can do is somehow make it home without losing the last sliver of pride left in me, however small it may be.
Then Mr. Suit rips that last sliver away. “Cute. Did you rob a nursing home?”
There’s nothing left to lose at this point. I definitely won’t be getting this job or stepping foot in this building again. I’ve probably been put on the all-time greatest security tape bloopers reel already.
So, I don’t censor myself. “Do most people dress for work expecting to lose their skirt on the…” I look over at the buttons and realize that the world is a crueler place than I’d expected, “twenty-seventh floor?” Those last words come out as a whisper.
The handsome stranger grins at me and takes off his coat, wrapping it around me graciously, and I feel a bit of regret at lashing out at him. “Not everyone, but I feel like it’s far better to be prepared than…” he glances at the satin panties that hang down further than many of my shorts, “unprepared.”
He steps away from me and says, “What floor were you trying to get to?”
