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“Fine,” I said, pacing the length of the room. “But I need you to promise
me something.”
“What?”
“You can’t kiss me like that again.”
“Like what?”
He knew exactly what I was talking about. He just wanted me to tell
him what a good kisser he was.
“What’s our timeline?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Tomorrow. Lunch.”
“You’re nuts.”
“I have a feeling, Ella Papillion, that you’re a little nuts too.”
Having thought of myself as a little immature, but very sane, I almost
objected.
Maybe he was right, and maybe that freed me a little to do something
crazy.
“Lunch,” I said. “I’ll be in the office.”
He shot out one laugh of recognition for a woman who went into a job
she hated on a Saturday. “I’ll see you there, Mrs. Crowne.”
He hung up before I could take the name change off the table.
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