Blushing furiously, I glance out my office windows at the cubicle field. No one is looking in my direction, but I feel so conspicuous, I might as well have a scarlet letter A embroidered on my chest.
“Me too,” I whisper. “This being discreet thing might be harder than we anticipated.”
“Well figure it out. What time should I pick you up tonight?”
“Pick me up?”
“You’re spending the weekend at my place.”
“I don’t recall being invited.”
“Don’t play coy with me. You want to wake up next to me just as much as I want to wake up next to you.”
Smiling from ear to ear, I shake my head. “You’re a handful, Mr. McCord.”
“See you at seven, Ms. Sanders.”
He disconnects, leaving me incandescent with happiness.
He’s early again, ringing the bell just as I’m rushing to finish packing. When I open
