Page 64 of Pure Abandon

Cecelia’s eyes are reprimanding as I exit the office. She probably assumes the worst. To hell with it. What does she know? And what do I care?

Back to reality on floor twenty-four, my redhead is barely seen over the ever-growing display of white roses.

“Do you have any stationary?” I ask.

She hands me an envelope and a notecard emblazoned with the ASHER signature and Omega logo.

In my office, I scribble a note and seal the envelope before placing it in the small Bloomingdales bag I have in my purse. I never took it out from this weekend. Frankly, I had no idea what I was going to do with the cologne.

I walk back to Trish’s desk and hand her the bag.

“Please deliver this to Mr. Asher’s office. You can leave it with Cecelia.”

Ever the eager beaver, Trish grabs the bag and heads toward the elevator to make the delivery.

Stopping for a moment, I lean over Trish’s desk and smell the delicious white roses laced with tobacco and vanilla. Tranquility swims through my bloodstream.

Turning on my heel, I head back to my office with a foolish grin on my face. My office is still bare. Its stark white walls and spacious furniture may seem cold, but this little space has become my home away from home.

I don’t believe I have anything personal in here.

Oh, I do.

Bending down under my desk, I grab the black umbrella. I hold it by its beautiful white pearl handle. It really is pretty. The sight of it solicits a fond memory. I can’t believe just two months ago, I thought this man was crude and wildly “inappropriate.” It’s odd to think he has become one of my best friends. Maybe Gabriel was right. I do need more friends.

My desk has become a paper landmine. For a job that is so creative, there is an awful lot of paperwork that goes into it.

We have a production meeting at eleven, so I came in nice and early to prepare for it. I feel good today. Today is a new day. I’m going to follow my heart. And my heart says my husband loves me.

I woke this morning draped in two hundred pounds of Gabriel. His hair is getting a touch longer than usual and it brushed against my face as he woke me up with soft kisses and a little tickle. We didn’t have the opportunity for more because Jackson was up and ready for some attention as well. From the bed, I admired Gabriel’s backside as he undressed for the shower. It was a beautiful sight to see.

Stepping out of bed, I nearly slipped on a magazine. I lifted it up to see the cover with Asher’s picture. It was the same one Gwen was reading this weekend. Gabriel must have fallen asleep reading it.

The phone rings. Shaking off the memory of this morning, I answer it in my most professional producer voice. “Kathryn Grayson.”

“There is a delivery here for you. Shall I bring it to your office?” Trish is on the other end.

“No. I’ll be right there.”

Trish has been working hard under Heather. Between that and answering the main phones, signing for deliveries, and keeping this place in order, she has more important things to do than deliver my package.

The display of white roses is extra obnoxious today. Asher is really getting carried away. Sitting next to them is a package with a large red bow on top.

“Looks like someone sent you a present.” Trish beams. “Can I watch you open it?”

As I have nothing to hide, I allow Trish to stand by as I unwrap the silky red ribbon. The box is a large white pastry box with a simple piece of tape clasping the end. Perhaps someone sent me a pie. That’s weird.

Weird doesn’t explain it.

I open the lid and find a box filled with packages of, as the slogan goes, the “golden sponge cake with a creamy filling.”

Asher can be very funny.

“Who would send you a box of Twinkies?” Trish’s face is twisted in confusion.

I partake in the second lie I’ve ever told this girl. “Must be from the Hostess Brands people.” I feign confused. “Twinkie?” I offer.

Trish grabs the cream-filled delicacy and smiles.