Teal Paisley Tights (Chapter One Only)

Chapter One

Today would have gone so much better in my paisley tights. If a superpower could be clothing, mine would be teal paisley, and it would make me strong and confident.

Like Superman, I kept those tights hidden away. People weren't ready for them. Definitely not Victoria.

I wriggled out of my tights behind my desk and the privacy of the thin cubicle walls. The air-conditioning units whirred—the loudest noise in the early morning atmosphere. I rubbed my bare legs with my hands as chill air from the vents circled my ankles. But, no use. My freshly shaven legs prickled like a frightened porcupine. I sighed. Straightening my little black dress over my thighs, I stuffed the offending tights into my junk drawer, far from Victoria's scathing gaze.

My boss's words echoed in my head: Do you have a skin disease today, Miss Simon? Those tights are unprofessional. Remove them. Even thinking about that moment made my cheeks burn.

What was so wrong with fun, patterned tights anyway?

Coffee. Coffee would take the edge off my fun-deprived morning. I slipped my black heels back on and walked out of my cubicle, only to remember that I needed to mail a client some information packets. Two steps back, and I stood over my desk, rifling through papers. I found the envelopes and scooped them up.

The cubicle wall creaked.

Ethan.

He leaned against the fabric-cladded partitioning, and warmth spread across my face. Forget garden gnomes. I wanted a life-sized marble sculpture of him. I imagined him actually leaning his entire weight against the wall, and how it would buckle underneath his pure muscle.

Smile.

"Just booked our dinner reservations for tonight."

His baritone voice shook me back to reality. Ethan McAlvey. The office hottie had asked me on a date! I gulped down a squeal and hid it behind a laugh.

His mint shirt magnified his hazel eyes, and the office lights enticed me to stroke his blond hair. It was the lights. I swear. You can't trust fluorescents. My fingers twitched, and I smashed them between the envelopes I was holding.

I should say something. "What time did we agree on again?" Ethan didn't need to tell me. Seven was tattooed on my mind, but I loved hearing his voice.

"I'll pick you up at seven at your place." Ethan glanced at my hand. "Were you headed to the mail room?"

My cheeks warmed again. So glad for light brown skin. Did he know that my envelope-holding hand wanted to fling the papers aside and bury itself in his wheat-colored locks?

"Oh, right." I looked at my hand. "Wanted to thop drese—drop these—off and I need coffee!"

Ethan's eyes twinkled. I resisted the urge to press my hands to my hot cheeks and smiled up at him.

"How about you go get that coffee?" Ethan reached for the envelopes. "And I'll take these for you."

The zap from his fingers brushing mine could have been a caffeine all its own. I wanted to skip down the hallway, singing, "Who needs coffee?" Instead, I swallowed and tried not to grin like a crazy person.

I brushed past Ethan, thrilled at his nearness and breathing in his spicy scent, and stepped onto a magic carpet moving my feet down the hallway. All my nerve endings had transferred themselves to my fingers, and I imagined them glowing. Up ahead, through the glass of Victoria's corner office, a newer employee hunched under a Hurricane Victoria tirade. She was going to need a coffee, too.