Twisted Arrangement by Mora Early

of the house, the one with Shinae, when the decorator expressed astonishment at the number of rooms the house possessed. She never would have guessed from the driveway, she told him. He’d been unable to resist such a perfect opportunity and nodded, straight-faced, saying, “It’s bigger on the inside.”
     
    Emma had hiccupped soft laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. Her green eyes twinkled over the curve of her fingers. She looked young in that moment in a way he hadn’t seen before. Her face was youthful, of course, but she acted so mature that it was hard to guess her real age. But in that moment of laughter, Emma reminded him of a mischievous child. It was a good look for her.
     
    “Strange,” she whispered under her breath. “It doesn’t look like the TARDIS.”
     
    He was surprised she was a Doctor Who fan, honestly. But then, the show had experienced a resurgence of popularity lately. “The TARDIS can look like whatever it wants,” he replied. She shook her head, but she was smiling.
     
    He’d tried to do it again, several times. But though he’d caught her lips twitching a time or two, she never again uttered that little laugh. As he watched for it, he noticed other things about her. Her hair was dark brown, but there were strands of lighter shades that caught the light when she turned her head. When she wanted to say something controversial but was hesitant, she chewed her lower lip on the left side. She clicked her pen incessantly when she was thinking.
     
    It reached the point that Josh contemplated kissing her. Her mouth looked so soft—completely kissable. And they’d been sitting very close as they perused the invitations. But in the end, he refrained. Technically she was his employee, at least until the ball was over, and he didn’t like to smudge that line. Emma didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d appreciate offers of smudging, either. Now, once the ball was over . . . that was a whole different story.
     
    “What has you smiling?” Ben asked, strolling into the office.
     
    Josh arched a brow at his friend. “Don’t you knock?”
     
    Ben folded himself into the chair opposite Josh. “Nope. Now answer my question. Has this got anything to do with William Ransler?”
     
    Josh perked up at the mention of the star’s name, tucking the watch into his pocket. “No. Why? You have news?”
     
    “Who loves ya baby?” Ben grinned, leaning back in the chair and propping his feet on the edge of the desk.
     
    Josh scowled. “Well, I would have said you, except you’re clearly enjoying torturing me. Spill it.”
     
    “I have it on very good authority that word of your charity project has reached the illustrious Mr. Ransler’s ears. He is paying attention. It’s quite the talk of the town just how ‘hands on’ you’re being.” Ben made air quotes with his fingers.
     
    Josh couldn’t help but momentarily think of being ‘hands on’ with Emma, but he pushed the thought away. He had to focus on Ransler now. “And? Did he agree to a meeting?”
     
    “No,” Ben shrugged in apology. “But I did get him to agree that we could revisit the issue after the ball.”
     
    Josh slumped slightly in his chair. “All the ball gets me is a chance at a meeting? Not even a guarantee of one? I was hoping for more.”
     
    “It’s more than you’ve got now,” Ben pointed out. “Oh, I got my invitation in the mail today, by the way. Very swanky. I like it.”
     
    “Already? That was quick. Emma only just said she was sending them out two days ago.” Josh tapped his fingers against the edge of his desk, wishing he could fast-forward time to the night of the ball and be done with it.
     
    “Who’s Emma?” Ben asked, brows rising beneath the fringe of his hair. “I thought you said the Picture Perfect lady’s name was Clarice?”
     
    “It is. Clarice is the owner. Emma is. . . .” Josh trailed off. “Well, I guess I don’t really know her exact job title.