Page 4 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

Mental note. Buy lingerie as soon as I get to California. I don’t know how, but I need it. My first time is going to be perfect. Candles, flowers, and sexy underwear.

Additional mental note. Don’t call him Nolan in person.

A door slams outside and I peek out the window at an older man walking up towards our townhouse. He came in a shiny black car and he’s wearing a crisp dark suit.

“Well, I guess that’s my ride.”

“Hey, babe,” Nora says, giving me a hug and handing me a travel mug of my favorite coffee. “Have a good time, OK? And text me pictures.”

I nod as the doorbell rings. “I will, I promise.”

“And don’t do anything too crazy,” Nora says.

“Do I ever?” I say, opening the door.

Nora laughs. “No, never. I’m not worried one bit.”

“Miss Rockwell?” the driver asks.

“That’s me.” I smile.

“Let me get your luggage.”

He does, and I follow him down the walkway, looking back to wave at Nora, my stomach all aflutter. I’m going to enjoy this week. I might not come back home with a job, but I will come home more experienced.

The driver sets my case down on the sidewalk and opens the back door of the car for me. I slip into the soft leather seat and get settled with my purse as he loads my yellow carry-on into the trunk. I don’t need much for a weekend. I packed a bathing suit because it’s summer and I’m going to California. I’m wearing my nice cream-colored linen suit. I picked it out last spring and this is the first chance I’ve had to even put it on. And a few other things. That’s about it.

When he gets in, he glances back at me in the rear view mirror and says, “You’re flying out of a private airfield.”

“OK,” I say, a little too quickly. I’m nervous.

“I just didn’t want you to wonder where we were going.” And then the driver shoots me a warm smile. “Top-secret stuff like this can make a young girl like you anxious.”

Hmm. What does that mean? Do I look so sheltered and scared that this complete stranger picked up on my innocence?

I need to do something about this. I realize I have no hope of getting this job, but I will need a job. If a driver who’s known me all of two minutes can pick me out as one of the weak ones, how will I ever impress big, important people enough to give me a chance on the business world?

Ivy Rockwell, you need to grow up. And not just in the sex department.

I make a vow to myself. This week is an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone and I’m going to accept every invitation that comes my way. I need to see more of the world. I need to do new things. I need to put myself out there and take risks.

Welcome to Opposite Ivy Weekend. Where every time I get the urge to say no to unfamiliar things, I will say yes. And every time I get the urge to say yes to familiar things, I will say no.

I think I saw this on an old episode of Seinfeld once, so it has to work. And the next time I have an interview I’m going to walk in there with an air of worldliness.

I bite my lip as we drive.

Can I really remake myself in one weekend?

I think I can. No one there knows me. They know nothing about me aside from what was on my résumé. And on paper, I look pretty good. Honor student at an exclusive private school growing up. Ivy League education at Brown. I graduated magna cum laude, which is very hard to do at Brown. They have a strict policy about giving out awards of distinction.

I have loads of hours under my belt for various Fortune 500 companies during my summer internships and I was a mentor sister to ten underprivileged girls in the entrepreneurial program in the New England area.

In fact, maybe I do deserve this job? I don’t have a lot of outside experience, but I am smart, hard-working, and…

Wait, Ivy.

You can’t sleep with the boss and get the job.