“Mikki, every time you set me up on a date it is always a disaster! In fact, all of my dates lately are disasters. I think I am just going to give up and become a nun!”

Mikki’s laughter rang in Charlie’s ear. “Sister Mary Charlotte? You couldn’t possibly become a nun. You own entirely too many killer shoes to become a nun!”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. Her sister always knew how to break her foul mood. “Fine, but if this one is anything like that guy that ‘accidentally’ bumped into me at the grocery store, I will get back at you. Remember what I did to you the last time you screwed me over?” Charlie entertained thoughts of secretly replacing her sister’s non-fat creamer with the full fat, sugar-laden version and watching her sister stress out over the unexplained weight gain at her wedding dress fitting.

She rummaged through the glove box, found a notepad, and quickly scrawled down the restaurant name and address. Before she could get the name of her blind date, Mikki ended the call.

***

Charlie’s Tuesday had a case of the Mondays and not in a Charlie sort of way. She lived her life in a series of predictable motions. Charlie always arrived at work a half-hour.early. She always worked through lunch. She always started her day with a coffee from Starbucks. The barista wagged her order out the drive-through before she voiced it into the speaker. Her routine was the same day in and day out. Just not today. Charlie slipped into her cubicle twenty-eight minutes later than usual. She sipped her now lukewarm Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte as she waded frantically through the morning emails.

Charlie stumbled across one flagged as urgent. It was for the entire office. Reading it, her dreams of moving out of the Research Department died a quick, painful death. Are you kidding me? After losing a contact lens, dropping my earrings in the garbage disposal, and arguing with Mikki over another forced fix up, the last thing I need is a career-killing email like this! Her boss, Kellan Pearse, the man who saw her potential and promised her a new position, transferred to the London office.

Pearse Pittsburgh Staff:

Pearse Publishing is restructuring the way each office does business effective immediately. We have expedited the change in direction of this office, and as a result, Kellan Pearse will now be serving Pearse Publishing in our London offices. His replacement will work closely with each of the Pittsburgh departments to ensure as smooth a transition as possible …

She skimmed the rest of the email, bristling at the idea that Kellan’s younger brother would replace him in this office. In addition, all office promotions were on hold until further notice. Charlie, you’re an asset to our operations he said. Promotion is just around the corner he said.

Loud shouting snapped Charlie out of her whine and cheese party. Peering over the top of her cubicle, she spotted a looming figure of a man storming his way through their Research Department. He was wildly waving a sheaf of papers above his head in his right hand. The glow of the florescent lighting reflected off the large gold signet ring he sported on his right hand.

“Who did the research on Susan Ainsworth’s Daughters of Rome?” His voice was rough and angry around the edges. Charlie cringed and sank back down into her chair. Her name was on the research he held in that stack of papers, but she certainly wasn’t going to help him out by fessing up to being the unlucky researcher about to get an earful.

Charlie assessed the current situation as hopeless and murmured a quick prayer to Saint Jude, but he must have been out to lunch because soon the man, whom she could only guess was her new boss, hovered near her desk. He was close enough she could smell the scent of his spiced cologne. Moments seemed to pass as she sat transfixed by his angry, yet handsome, countenance.

The rumors about him being attractive were spot on. He was tall, gorgeous, and apparently entirely evil. At this moment, the youngest Mr. Pearse was the most self-important, pompous man she’d ever encountered. Charlie’s mind wandered momentarily as she thought of the gossip that circled him. She shook those inappropriate thoughts from her head and regained her composure.

Suddenly, as his gaze met hers, and his eyes grew dark, a jolt of bravery sent Charlie bolting up out of her chair. Smoothing out her pencil skirt as she rose, she spoke to him. “Mr. Pearse, instead of barreling through this department and causing a scene, you should have looked to the last page of the research for a name and saved your full wrath for that person.” Pearse glared at her, making any bit of bravado Charlie had crumble. Shakily, she offered, “I’m Charlie Flynn. I did the research on Ms. Ainsworth’s novel.” Her voice trailed off as her new boss moved in closer.

Charlie glanced up. He was glaring at her all because she was doing extra work. She looked away, deliberately not staring at the way his charcoal suit coat fit across his broad shoulders. She tried not to notice that incredible hair. What did the women in the break room call it this morning? Fuckable hair. According to their tales, it had earned its title. The image of him tangled in hotel sheets flickered briefly through her mind.

Of course, he had to go ahead and ruin it by opening his mouth.

Pearse scoffed. “Ms. Flynn is it? You can’t be serious. You’re just a research assistant. You dared to call some of the author’s information into question?” His voice echoed loudly through the ghost town that was the Research Department. Like prairie dogs on the Great Plains, her coworkers had popped back down into their cubicles at the first sign of danger.

Charlie tried to phrase her response carefully. “If the author had bothered to consult Google—at the very least—as her point of reference, she would have found a more logical history of Rome than what she offered.”

“And what about these notes, Ms. Flynn?” He waved a piece of paper in front of her face.

His gesture only served to embolden her. It was as though he was waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. Charlie straightened her back and set her shoulders. “It is a list of suggested reading. Ms. Ainsworth clearly needs some assistance with her research on ancient Rome before revising and resubmitting the manuscript.” Softening her tone she said, “I thought she might like to rework the story. The plot was engaging even though the research was lacking.” Charlie gazed into a pair of piercing blue eyes.

The youngest Pearse brother’s face contorted into something resembling a cross between a sneer and a smirk. “Oh, I see. So you’re an editor now, is that it?” Several eavesdropping coworkers gasped.

Charlie lowered her gaze, unable to meet his any longer, and whispered, “No, certainly not. I was just trying to help her after trashing her research.”

“Let me see if I am getting this correct. You read the complete manuscript of what you need to research and yet were still able to submit your analysis on time?” His voice was glacial like his eyes.

Pearse watched intently as she finally conceded the upper hand in the conversation.

“I am sorry,” Charlie said with a hint of bite. “I was just trying to do my job properly. Kellan always asked I read the full manuscript to get a better understanding of the story. I also find Ms. Ainsworth’s book enthralling, and I don’t want to be responsible for a rejection letter.”

Pearse considered her then, tilting his head. “So even though you ripped Ms. Ainsworth’s research to shreds, you agree with the editor who sent their recommendation to my desk?”

Charlie mustered her confidence and looked back up at Mr. Pearse. “Oh yes. It was absorbing. I found myself not being able to put it down. If you didn’t know much about history or the region where the story takes place, you could easily enjoy the novel.” Charlie winced, wishing she could edit her last words. Surely those comments wouldn’t sit well with the youngest Mr. Pearse.