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I slipped into my charcoal-gray pencil skirt and started to slide my arms into the sleeves of my white, well-pressed blouse—my lucky white blouse that had delicate flowers embroidered down either side of the buttons. It had landed me my previous job, the one I’d just been laid off from. Bankruptcy had affected the company, and bad management had seen the expenditure heavily outweigh the income. So, three hundred employees nationwide had lost their jobs seemingly overnight.
“If you’ve thanked me once, you’ve thanked me a thousand times. Now shut your mouth and finish getting ready!” Her face smooshed up in the weird way it always did when I got too sentimental. She hated it when I did that, and her face painted an obvious picture to reflect that.
I knew I ranted a bit too much. Nerves, probably. No, definitely. Interview nerves always made me chatter like false teeth in the cold.
“Sorry,” I replied, resisting the urge to thank her again for putting in a good word. Sarah had done so much to help, and—fingers crossed—I could treat her and show her how grateful I was soon, when I had more money. “I’m ready. What do you think?”
“Brilliant!”
***
I stepped onto the sidewalk and looked at the large stone steps I had to climb. I checked my heels and crossed my fingers that they wouldn’t break on me. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled, watching it filter out into the blustery chill wind whirling down the street. I pulled my collar up around my neck and grabbed hold of the stone handrail. Seven steps to the top, which just happened to be my lucky number. I hoped it was a sign. I took the elevator to the top floor after I made my way through the enormous, expensive-looking lobby.
The door to the penthouse was navy blue with a lion’s head knocker added just for show. It was both mystical and enchanting. After pushing my finger against the brass doorbell button, I waited—still shuddering from the cold outside that had blown right up my skirt—and entertained ideas about what kind of person had a lion’s head door knocker.
Before I could let my imagination grow larger, a man whipped the door open. Hot as hell. He had light brown hair and mesmerizing green eyes. I looked down next to him. He held a small girl’s hand. Obviously, she was his beautiful daughter, and she had cute little ragdoll hanging from her other hand.
Nerves kicked in. I said, “K-K-Karly.” Oh god! What a start. I swallowed and let the lump in my throat move further down into my chest. I didn’t usually get this nervous.
“I’m Damon, and this is Alexis, the lady of the house. You’d better come inside and warm up. It looks like it was mighty cold outside.”
I stepped inside, and he took my coat, hanging it in the closet under the large staircase.
“Hi. I’m Alexis,” the girl said, “and this is Clara, my doll. I’m six. I think you’re a good girl.”
I crouched as best as I could in my tight-fitting skirt and held out my hand to greet her. “I’m pleased to meet you both.”
Alexis shook Clara. “Come on, Clara, shake her hand. She’s being polite,” Alexis said. “Ah, okay! Clara says she likes you, but her arm hurts so she can’t shake your hand.”
I giggled as I stood and straightened up my skirt. I flashed my eyes toward Damon. He was watching me run my hands over my curves. He grinned and showed me into their elegant living room.
I was surprised by a couple things. The article I’d read before about him had been misleading. He might have been the most eligible bachelor in the city, and from the size of his home and the look of him, it was easy to see why, but that was where the truth of the article ended. His photograph didn’t do him much justice, either. In the flesh, Damon was much better looking and very rugged.
“Have a seat,” he said as he gestured for me to sit on the couch.
That was the second thing I found surprising. I’d expected black leather and chrome, an almost clinical feel to his home instead of the natural colors and the soft, study-like feel of his living room. Soft brown furnishings with gold-edged cushions complimented the beige walls and dark, caramel-colored drapes. It wasn’t exactly a woman’s touch, but it was a far cry from being from the hand of an eligible bachelor. It was cozy, and that was highlighted by the real log fire. It had a fireguard in front, and it made me feel at home.
“Dada,” Alexis said. Damon leaned forward to hear her whisper. She cupped her hand against his ear and flashed her eyes at me before she spoke. “Clara and I like her, and you know Clara’s never wrong.”
