you to Meez Middleton.”
I held my hand over the receiver for a few moments before putting it next to my face again and pressing a number button to create a beep. “Hello, this is Melanie Middleton. May I speak with Jack Trenholm, please?”
“Speaking.” I heard the distinct sound of a toilet being flushed followed by running water.
“I’m with Henderson Realty, and I’m returning your phone call.”
The water stopped. “Yes, thanks for getting back to me.” He had something in his mouth that was preventing him from speaking clearly.
“I hope I didn’t call you too early. You left three messages yesterday, and I thought it might be urgent.”
He didn’t answer right away as I heard the sound of teeth brushing and then the sound of expectorating and running water again. “Not to worry. I had to get up to answer the phone, anyway.”
I felt my face flush. Irritated, I said, “Look, rather than taking the phone into the shower with you, why don’t you just call me back when you have a moment?”
My finger was already on the hang-up button when he spoke. “Because then you’ll miss the pleasure of picturing me naked.”
I was completely mortified because that was exactly what I was doing. “Excuse me? Of all the arrogant—”
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just grouchy. I had a late night and didn’t expect to be up so early this morning. Can we start this conversation over again?”
I took a deep breath, remembering what Nancy had said. I was going to make an effort, even if it killed me. “All right. This is Melanie Middleton and I’m returning your call.”
“Thanks for calling me back, Mellie. I would like to schedule a meeting with you to talk about real estate in the area.”
In my surprise, I forgot to mention that nobody called me Mellie. “Are you looking to move?”
“I might be. Let’s just say I’m investigating the possibilities right now.”
“Okay.” I found myself sitting on my boss’s desk and doodling hearts on his blotter. I quickly stood up. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, there’s too much to talk about over the phone. Why don’t we meet—how about dinner tonight?”
You are a professional, Melanie, I reminded myself as I forced my voice to remain calm. “Tonight? Hang on. Let me check my calendar.” I pressed the mute button on my phone and stared at the second hand on my watch, waiting an entire fifty-nine seconds until I took him off mute. “Sorry for the wait. I just needed to juggle a few things to clear my schedule. What time works best for you?”
“How about seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up if you’ll give me your address.” He must have sensed my hesitation because he added, “Not to worry—I’m not a psychopath. My parents own Trenholm’s Antiques on King if you want to speak with my mother. She’ll give me a good reference.”
I knew the store well, although I could only afford to window-shop its gorgeous English and French antiques. Besides, he was a famous author. He’d have a lot more to worry about me stalking him than the other way around.
I gave him my address and was about to hang up when he spoke again.
“Oh, and, Mellie?”
“Yes?”
“Work on your accent. That was terrible.”
Without another word, I hung up, then stood in the empty office until I was sure the color of my face had returned to normal.
I stood in front of my closet mirror, admiring the little black dress that had set me back nearly an entire commission check. But when I turned around and watched the slinky silk fold around my body, I knew that it had been a fair exchange.
The day had been a fairly good one. My art history professor, Chad, had been the ideal client and loved everything I’d showed him and was deciding between two converted warehouse spaces near Rainbow Row at this very moment. When I’d first met him that morning, he’d been wearing sandals, cutoff jean shorts, a Bermuda shirt, and a ponytail. He’d kissed me on
I held my hand over the receiver for a few moments before putting it next to my face again and pressing a number button to create a beep. “Hello, this is Melanie Middleton. May I speak with Jack Trenholm, please?”
“Speaking.” I heard the distinct sound of a toilet being flushed followed by running water.
“I’m with Henderson Realty, and I’m returning your phone call.”
The water stopped. “Yes, thanks for getting back to me.” He had something in his mouth that was preventing him from speaking clearly.
“I hope I didn’t call you too early. You left three messages yesterday, and I thought it might be urgent.”
He didn’t answer right away as I heard the sound of teeth brushing and then the sound of expectorating and running water again. “Not to worry. I had to get up to answer the phone, anyway.”
I felt my face flush. Irritated, I said, “Look, rather than taking the phone into the shower with you, why don’t you just call me back when you have a moment?”
My finger was already on the hang-up button when he spoke. “Because then you’ll miss the pleasure of picturing me naked.”
I was completely mortified because that was exactly what I was doing. “Excuse me? Of all the arrogant—”
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just grouchy. I had a late night and didn’t expect to be up so early this morning. Can we start this conversation over again?”
I took a deep breath, remembering what Nancy had said. I was going to make an effort, even if it killed me. “All right. This is Melanie Middleton and I’m returning your call.”
“Thanks for calling me back, Mellie. I would like to schedule a meeting with you to talk about real estate in the area.”
In my surprise, I forgot to mention that nobody called me Mellie. “Are you looking to move?”
“I might be. Let’s just say I’m investigating the possibilities right now.”
“Okay.” I found myself sitting on my boss’s desk and doodling hearts on his blotter. I quickly stood up. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, there’s too much to talk about over the phone. Why don’t we meet—how about dinner tonight?”
You are a professional, Melanie, I reminded myself as I forced my voice to remain calm. “Tonight? Hang on. Let me check my calendar.” I pressed the mute button on my phone and stared at the second hand on my watch, waiting an entire fifty-nine seconds until I took him off mute. “Sorry for the wait. I just needed to juggle a few things to clear my schedule. What time works best for you?”
“How about seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up if you’ll give me your address.” He must have sensed my hesitation because he added, “Not to worry—I’m not a psychopath. My parents own Trenholm’s Antiques on King if you want to speak with my mother. She’ll give me a good reference.”
I knew the store well, although I could only afford to window-shop its gorgeous English and French antiques. Besides, he was a famous author. He’d have a lot more to worry about me stalking him than the other way around.
I gave him my address and was about to hang up when he spoke again.
“Oh, and, Mellie?”
“Yes?”
“Work on your accent. That was terrible.”
Without another word, I hung up, then stood in the empty office until I was sure the color of my face had returned to normal.
I stood in front of my closet mirror, admiring the little black dress that had set me back nearly an entire commission check. But when I turned around and watched the slinky silk fold around my body, I knew that it had been a fair exchange.
The day had been a fairly good one. My art history professor, Chad, had been the ideal client and loved everything I’d showed him and was deciding between two converted warehouse spaces near Rainbow Row at this very moment. When I’d first met him that morning, he’d been wearing sandals, cutoff jean shorts, a Bermuda shirt, and a ponytail. He’d kissed me on
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