FIVE
Two days later, Angie entered the elevator on the ground floor. Before the door closed, a hand reached between the doors, pushing them aside. In walked a handsome man. He was clean shaven and had black hair cut short over his ears with a long bang sweeping across his forehead.
“What floor?” she asked, looking him squarely in the face.
“Eight,” he said, returning her look.
Angie immediately wished she had worn something more revealing. But she had been job seeking, so she had on a conservative pair of black slacks and a simple white shirt. Her hair was pulled into a high topknot that showed off the gold hoops hanging from her ears.
“I’m on four,” Angie said, pushing both floors.
“So, we’re distant neighbors; four floors apart,” he said. “I’m Josh Brigham.”
“Angie Barnes,” she sa
