certificate that allowed her to work as a paralegal.
As Michael strode toward the counter, Jillian Lopresti glanced up at him and her eyes lit up. He drew a sharp breath through his nostrils and held it, trying not to smile like an idiot. Jillian reached up and pushed a stray lock of chestnut hair away from her face and laid her folder down on the counter.
“I was beginning to think you had the day off,” Michael told her.
Jillian rolled her eyes. “I wish. I could use a day off. I'd rather be at the beach.”
Michael tried not to imagine her at the beach—in a bikini—for fear that his eyes would trail downward and she would catch him looking, catch him imagining.
“What've we got today?” he asked.
She opened her file and withdrew several documents. “The usual. Three separate corporations, all owned by the same client. I need to know if they're in good standing. If not, how far back do we have to file to get a certificate?”
He nodded, taking the pages from her. There were a dozen little bullshit things he could have said, just to shoot the breeze, but he was not in the mood for small talk. Michael had other things in mind.
Jillian looked at him expectantly, clearly wondering why he wasn't off to look up the corporations in question. She raised her eyebrows.
“So, what do you usually do for lunch?” he asked.
One corner of her mouth lifted in an adorable smirk. Perhaps she was only a year older than he was, but there was so much confidence in her. Michael admired that. He also found it incredibly alluring. Even more so than the images his mind had conjured of her in a bikini.
What do you usually do for lunch?
he had asked.
Jillian studied him. “Eat.”
Michael laughed politely, but he was not deterred. “When's your lunch hour?”
Her smile turned sly. “When I'm hungry.”
“Well, when you're hungry today, I'd love to take you to lunch.”
She let out a little breath and shook her head. “Sorry. I have plans.”
All the air seemed to go out of him. Those hazel eyes sparkled, and her smile remained, but apparently Jillian hadn't been nearly as interested in him as he had been in her. Michael had been taken by her the very first time he had seen her. She carried herself with the air of someone much older, and she always had a pleasant word for the others in his department. That first day she had worn a burgundy blouse and a black skirt with a slit up one leg. He could still hear the echo of her heels the way they clicked on the linoleum on the other side of the counter.
There had been no overt flirtation between them, just an exchange of pleasantries. Not very different from the way she spoke to anyone else in that office. But, still, he had hoped.
Michael forced a smile that he hoped didn't reveal how foolish he felt. He waved the documents at her as if she needed to be reminded what he was doing, and started back toward the computer at his desk.
“Isn't tomorrow your birthday?” she said to his retreating back.
He frowned as he turned to face her. How did Jillian know it was his birthday? “Yeah?”
She shifted her stance, putting all her weight on one foot, her hip outthrust beneath her skirt. It was a defiant pose, and heartbreakingly sexy. “Do you already have plans?”
“No.”
“Well, then, why don't I buy
you
lunch tomorrow? To celebrate?”
Michael stared at her a moment. Then he nodded. “I'd like that.”
She played me,
he thought.
The girl played me. She was busting my balls the whole time.
I think I'm in love.
M ICHAEL FELT LIKE SHIT.
It had been only a few hours since their rude roadside awakening. They had come home and showered, and immediately he had retreated to the basement to avoid Jillian.
The house was only three years old. They had bought into a new development and watched excitedly over the months as the house went up. West Newbury was expensive, but not in Andover's league. With their joint salaries, they had still been overreaching, but had
As Michael strode toward the counter, Jillian Lopresti glanced up at him and her eyes lit up. He drew a sharp breath through his nostrils and held it, trying not to smile like an idiot. Jillian reached up and pushed a stray lock of chestnut hair away from her face and laid her folder down on the counter.
“I was beginning to think you had the day off,” Michael told her.
Jillian rolled her eyes. “I wish. I could use a day off. I'd rather be at the beach.”
Michael tried not to imagine her at the beach—in a bikini—for fear that his eyes would trail downward and she would catch him looking, catch him imagining.
“What've we got today?” he asked.
She opened her file and withdrew several documents. “The usual. Three separate corporations, all owned by the same client. I need to know if they're in good standing. If not, how far back do we have to file to get a certificate?”
He nodded, taking the pages from her. There were a dozen little bullshit things he could have said, just to shoot the breeze, but he was not in the mood for small talk. Michael had other things in mind.
Jillian looked at him expectantly, clearly wondering why he wasn't off to look up the corporations in question. She raised her eyebrows.
“So, what do you usually do for lunch?” he asked.
One corner of her mouth lifted in an adorable smirk. Perhaps she was only a year older than he was, but there was so much confidence in her. Michael admired that. He also found it incredibly alluring. Even more so than the images his mind had conjured of her in a bikini.
What do you usually do for lunch?
he had asked.
Jillian studied him. “Eat.”
Michael laughed politely, but he was not deterred. “When's your lunch hour?”
Her smile turned sly. “When I'm hungry.”
“Well, when you're hungry today, I'd love to take you to lunch.”
She let out a little breath and shook her head. “Sorry. I have plans.”
All the air seemed to go out of him. Those hazel eyes sparkled, and her smile remained, but apparently Jillian hadn't been nearly as interested in him as he had been in her. Michael had been taken by her the very first time he had seen her. She carried herself with the air of someone much older, and she always had a pleasant word for the others in his department. That first day she had worn a burgundy blouse and a black skirt with a slit up one leg. He could still hear the echo of her heels the way they clicked on the linoleum on the other side of the counter.
There had been no overt flirtation between them, just an exchange of pleasantries. Not very different from the way she spoke to anyone else in that office. But, still, he had hoped.
Michael forced a smile that he hoped didn't reveal how foolish he felt. He waved the documents at her as if she needed to be reminded what he was doing, and started back toward the computer at his desk.
“Isn't tomorrow your birthday?” she said to his retreating back.
He frowned as he turned to face her. How did Jillian know it was his birthday? “Yeah?”
She shifted her stance, putting all her weight on one foot, her hip outthrust beneath her skirt. It was a defiant pose, and heartbreakingly sexy. “Do you already have plans?”
“No.”
“Well, then, why don't I buy
you
lunch tomorrow? To celebrate?”
Michael stared at her a moment. Then he nodded. “I'd like that.”
She played me,
he thought.
The girl played me. She was busting my balls the whole time.
I think I'm in love.
M ICHAEL FELT LIKE SHIT.
It had been only a few hours since their rude roadside awakening. They had come home and showered, and immediately he had retreated to the basement to avoid Jillian.
The house was only three years old. They had bought into a new development and watched excitedly over the months as the house went up. West Newbury was expensive, but not in Andover's league. With their joint salaries, they had still been overreaching, but had
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