Well, no shit, Sherlock.
The door tried to close, and he pushed it back open.
“I suppose I can’t.” Mandy raised herself a half inch. Her head swam, but her stomach only lurched. “I have an eight o’clock appointment—a job interview—and I’ve got this bad case of”—Morning sickness—“the flu.”
Nothing but silence came from shiny-shoe man.
Oh, my God, this was a nightmare brought to life. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move. She was nauseous, she was mortified. She was stuck on a bloody elevator with her head around her ankles and her bum in the air.
She really didn’t think that was the confident side Caroline wanted her to be projecting.
Chapter Two
Damien Sharpton usually knew what to do in any given situation.
But he didn’t know what the hell to do about the woman bent completely over in the elevator, ass up, head down.
His first urge was to step out in the hallway and let the door close on her.
Despite what people said about him, however, he wasn’t quite that heartless.
He was impatient. Calculating. Aggressive. Consumed by his work and utterly devoid of a personal life.
He was okay with all of that. Yet regardless of the past three years, and everything he’d been through, he wasn’t inhumane.
So he hovered, holding the doors open, and wondered what exactly he was supposed to do now.
“Do you want me to call someone?” He reached for his cell phone, pleased that he’d thought to foist her off on someone else. Let one of the executive assistants deal with her, until her husband or boyfriend or friend came and retrieved her. Not his assistant, since he didn’t have one at present.
That flighty girl Lanie he’d hired out of total desperation had not worked out at all. Even the most simplistic of tasks like usingthe copier had been a struggle for her, and when he’d pointed out ways to increase her efficiency, she had burst into tears on him.
But he could call Nancy’s assistant, Terri. She was very maternal and sweet and would know what to do with a potential vomit situation.
“No, no, I’m fine, really. I have to get to this interview. I really need this job for the health insurance.”
Obviously, since she was sick as a dog. Damien tried to remember what she looked like when her light brown hair wasn’t covering her face, but he hadn’t really noticed her when he’d stepped on the elevator. He had been thinking about his nine-o’clock conference call with the Atlanta team and hoping that his eight-o’clock interview would result in an assistant who could actually use Instant Messaging without inserting giggling smiley faces every other word.
Lanie had been fond of those.
Damien cleared his throat and unlocked his phone, scrolling to find Terri’s number.
“Can you hand me your coffee cup?”
“For what?” But he was already leaning down and sticking his coffee cup under her hair in the direction of her hand, figuring it wouldn’t be wise to upset her. The door tried to close again, but he held it with his foot and hip, hoping it wasn’t creasing his suit.
“I’m going to stand up, but I need something to catch it, just in case I get sick.”
Oh, good God. He was sorry he’d asked. And while he’d gotten a grande, he didn’t think the cup was that big. And it was still half full.
A little fist of nausea curled in his own stomach, and he lifted his eyes up from her head to distract himself. Her suit jacket had slid down toward her neck, given the pull of gravity, andhe could see her bare back above her waistline. Her flesh was smooth, slightly pink, her waist tapering in above her skirt, in a way that was very...
Damn.
Damien nearly thunked himself on the forehead. What the hell was he doing?
In three years, he’d never once felt the stirrings of attraction for a woman, and now he suddenly found a woman’s bare back sexy. A faceless, flu-stricken woman. It was ludicrous.
“Thanks. I really appreciate this. The job I’m interviewing for, I’ve heard the boss is a complete and total ogre. He’s scared off all his other assistants and is completely unreasonable. I don’t mind, because well, I need the job, but I don’t want to cancel last minute with someone like that. So I’ve got to go, hell or high water. ”
