I smile and lean my head back against the headrest as I think. Yeah, I might just do that. You never


    know until you try, I suppose. I have always loved writing. Hmm, maybe London is having an artistic


    effect on me?


    “Oh, look there’s Julian.” She jumps out of the car and waves to her boss as she walks towards him.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    He smiles as he approaches her and they talk for a moment. Sheughs freely and pulls her hand through


    her hair. He seems to study her face as he talks. I narrow my eyes as I watch them. Oh my God, are you


    kidding me? They are flirting. I sit, stunned as I watch them, until finally she turns andes back to the


    car, but my eyes stay on Julian, and as she walks away his eyes drop to her behind.


    Oh. My. God. He’s checking her out. She bounces into the car, all effervescent and dreamy until my


    horrified eyes meet hers.


    “What?”


    “Are you for real?” I snap.


    “What?”


    “He’s forty-something.”


    “He’s thirty- eight.”


    “You like him?” I can’t hide my mortification.


    “No!” she snaps.


    “Well, he definitely likes you.”


    “He does not.”


    “He was checking your ass out as you walked away.”


    “Really?” She smiles excitedly.


    “Oh  my  God,  this  is  a  disaster.  I  bought  you  here  to  get  away  from  that  dickhead  and  now  you’re


    falling for old men.”


    She raises her eyebrows. “I’m not falling for anyone, and you have bigger worries on your te with


    your boss, that artist, and the fact that they know each other to be worrying yourself about me.”


    “Uch. I’m bing a nun.”


    She smiles. “You won’t be a nun. You love sex too much.”


    I blow out a deep breath. “Not that I would remember.”


    She smirks. “So, London is making you artistic and me as horny as hell.”


    “This is a nightmare.” I shake my head. “If you sleep with your boss, I’m going to kill you.”


    She smirks. “I’m not going to sleep with him, but you do have to admit he’s kind of hot.”


    My eyes find him out on the field and I smile. “I suppose he is… in a rich, old man kind of way.”


    I have been summoned to Mark’s Office and I am dreading it like the gue. I have worked with him for


    three days now, and here it is, Wednesday afternoon, and I don’t even want to talk to him at work, let


    alone socialize with him after hours. His eyes are lingering on me longer than they should and I know he


    has more on his mind than friends. I have to tell him it’s a no go, but how?


    This is why you don’t fuck with bosses, Emerson, you stupid idiot. I didn’t think this through at all.


    I walk up to his office door. Knock, knock.


    “Yes!” he calls seductively.


    I  walk  in  and  stand  silently  next  to  his  desk.  “Take  a  seat,”  he  orders  as  he  looks  at  some


    spreadsheets.


    I swallow the lump in my throat and drop into the seat.


    “How have you been going with the good news stories?” he asks.


    “Um, okay. I really only started it today.”


    His eyes shoot up. “Why are you only starting now?”


    “I  had  other  things  I  had  to  get  finished  before  I  started  on  this,”  I  murmur  nervously.  “Filing  and


    stuff.”


    “Could you get on with it today, please?” he asks with a sexy smile.


    “Yes.” I drop my head in shame. I feel bad for what I am feeling, orck of the way I’m feeling, and


    the only way to make this up to him is if I do the best work I can possibly do on this project. I want to be


    friends  with  Mark.  He’s  a  descent  guy  who  really  does  deserve  a  chance.  That’s  it.  I’m  making  a


    conscious  decision  to  not  think  about  that  street  kisser  and  those  beautiful  lips.  My  heart  drops  at  the


    thought, though. Gosh, those lips. I wish they were on me now. Stop it, you stupid woman! I stand with


    renewed purpose and head back to my desk. The job that I have been assigned to do is to create a good


    news story folder for future reference. I have to contact past clients and interview them about our service.


    It sounds easy enough, however, I am not so sure how it will go or if I will be able to do it. I open the


    folder of names and contact details and I go to the first name on the list.


    Bartholomew Anslow. Jeez, he sounds like a stuffy old sod. I look up his details and dial the number.


    “Hello,” a posh voice answers, sounding just as I imagined.


    “Hello, Mr. Anslow? This is Emerson Mathews and I work for Chesters Auction House. I understand


    you purchased some art from us eighteen months ago.


    “Ahh.” He thinks. “Yes. Yes, I did.”


    I quickly scroll through his file with my finger. Three pieces. “Our records show that you purchased


    three paintings, is that correct?”


    “Yes.”


    “Excellent. We are just doing a service follow up to see how the artwork is going and to ask if you


    were happy with thepany’s service.”