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earlier.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    As I head for my office, I try to calm
myself. It has already been a harrowing morning with my fantasy elevator man
showing up again and now some other guy is lurking in my office. I am still
ignoring the fact that I hope the two situations are related, though I know
they can’t be. I also ignore the fact that the two situations have occurred in
the same lifetime. This is the most male interaction I’ve had in months and I
feel as if I might explode. I snap myself out of my daydream and politely knock
on the door as I open it.
    “Mr. O’Reilly, is it?” No need to pretend I
know someone I don’t. The man in question is standing in front of my window with
his back to me. 
    A little wave of nervous excitement hits my
stomach and I’m glad I haven’t eaten anything this morning. Puking is no way to
make a first impression.   
    He is dressed in a light blue dress shirt
with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, jeans that fit him better than any jeans
ever had a right to, and black boots. I notice a leather jacket slug over one
of my chairs that is worn and lived in, though I can’t tell if it is from
actual use or cleaver manufacturing. It reminds me of my grandfather’s WWII bomber
jacket that always hung in their guestroom closet. It smelled of mothballs and
motor oil. I half wonder if this one does too. His black hair is short and
looks more tousled than styled. I feel that unfurling begin inside me again and
I want him say something, to turn around.
    “Lucan—er, Luke. Please call me Luke.”
    The first syllable out of his mouth sends a shockwave
through my body like a chorus of church bells. It’s him. I left him in the
elevator and now he is standing in my office telling me his name. I have somehow
hit the cosmic lottery. This is unbelievable and I fear I’m actually still at
home dreaming.
    Luke O’Reilly turns to face me. He is the
most beautiful man I have ever seen. His impossibly blue eyes stare right into
my soul. Lindsey was right; he is godlike.
    His face is boyish and yet there is a cool
masculinity in the line of his jaw that makes you feel forewarned and completely
ravaged. His skin is pale, but not in a sickly kind of way, more luminescent. He
reminds me of a dark haired Anderson Cooper but I stow that thought away for
later. His blue dress shirt tugs against his muscled upper body in all the
right places. For that matter, so do those jeans, as he makes his way across
the room to me. I am in complete awe.
    “Luke,” I repeat, realizing it’s been a while
since it was my turn to respond. I try to shake the image of what might be
under those jeans and that shirt, what I’ve thought about all night long, out
of my head. “What can I do for you? What brings you in?” I at least sound
professional and calm, inside I am on fire. 
    He gives me a crooked, almost knowing smile.
    My heart jumps in my chest and I can hear
the blood pulsing in my ears. Undoubtedly, my face is fifty shades of crimson. Luke
gestures for me to sit down at my desk. He makes no effort to shake my hand,
which is strange as he has an air of good manners about him. My sweaty palms are
thankful nonetheless. “Thanks. Please, sit,” I offer, discretely wiping my
hands on my pants.
    He sits down in the empty chair in front of
my desk, looking so at ease as if we are old friends and he’s been here
hundreds of times. 
    “Ms. Cole. It is a pleasure to meet you,
first off. May I call you Abri?”
    He can call me whatever he wants, I
think and narrowly miss saying aloud. “Sure, but I’m a little confused. My assistant
tells me that we know each other?”
    Luke leans back in the chair and rests one
foot on his knee. “We haven’t met formally, but I know you.”
    Well that was vague and stalkeriffic. I
hardly consider two trips in an elevator together knowing one another. I try
not to shift in my chair, revealing my uneasiness. I start to close up again
inside. I am vulnerable, although I don’t