Irresistible?. Stephanie Bond

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СКАЧАТЬ at the hole-in-the-wall arts center where Ellie worked convinced her she wanted no part of a rigid office setting on a long-term basis. Still, the regular, if small, paycheck had paid her rent.

      An oncoming dark-suited banker type lowered his stock quotes long enough to admire Ellie’s legs and whistle. Her spirits rose and she shrugged guiltily. Okay, it didn’t hurt her feelings to be appreciated by the well-heeled.

      With the money from the study to tie her over for a few weeks, she planned to spend her free time updating her portfolio, and pestering gallery managers to take a peek. Being fired might turn out to be the best career move she’d ever made.

      The aroma of bagels and cream cheese reached her, prompting her to dig in her bag for loose change. “Ellie!” old Mr. Pompano exclaimed. “You look good enough to have for breakfast, yourself. Did you get a promotion?”

      “No,” she said smugly to the popular street vendor, pointing to a chocolate bagel. “I got fired.”

      “Well, it suits you.” He smiled, handing her the dark bread. “You are especially—” he made a corkscrew gesture in the air “—appealing today.”

      “Why, thank you, kind sir who wants my money.” She curtsied.

      He grinned and bowed slightly, then patted his right knee. “Something good will happen to you today—I can feel it in my gimp leg.”

      Ellie winked. “Can your bursitis tell me if he’ll be a blond, a brunette or a redhead?”

      “The way you look today, Cara, you might get all three.”

      Ellie flipped him a quarter tip, and munched her bagel the rest of the walk to the musty office building where she worked. Several men’s heads turned, eyes lingering, and she felt her body unconsciously adjust to the attention. Her short stride lengthened to show off her legs. She thrust her shoulders back and her small breasts out, and clenched her buttocks with each step to add a powerful sway to her back view. It worked She’d heard two wolf whistles by the time she reached her office, where a handsome co-worker. Steve Willis, who’d never even glanced her way before, held the door open.

      “Ellie, isn’t it?” he asked, his pale eyebrows arching attractively over his tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses.

      “Yes, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” she lied.

      “Steve,” he said, straightening the knot of his tie. “Steve Willis. I was thinking, maybe I could call you sometime?”

      “Sure,” she said nonchalantly over her shoulder.

      “What’s your number?” he called behind her.

      Ellie turned to eye the man who’d gone out of his way to ignore her when she’d delivered his mail every day for the past year. She almost felt sorry for him—he didn’t stand a chance against the pheromones. “I’m in the book,” she said simply, and left him standing. Once she got around the corner, she brought her fist to her chest in a triumphant gesture. “Yes!” There was something to these pills, after all.

      The flowers on her desk were a nice surprise. She knew they were from Joan even before she opened the card. But before she had a chance to thank her boss, the phones started ringing, and the day began.

      Later, a few co-workers took her to lunch, and Steve Willis appeared out of nowhere to sit beside her. He even managed to knee her a couple of times under the table. Feeling generous, Ellie humored him with a smile. He really wasn’t bad. Maybe Mr. Pompano’s gimpy prediction had been right.

      Joan stopped by Ellie’s desk an hour before closing. Ellie smiled, gesturing to the flowers. “I meant to swing by to say thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

      Ellie turned her swivel chair toward Joan. “What’s up?”

      “A commission, if you’re interested.” Joan leaned against the cubicle wall.

      Ellie nodded enthusiastically. “Sure.”

      “It’s a corporate portrait for a law firm—pretty boring stuff, but good money.”

      “Suit-and-tie picture?”

      “Yeah.”

      “How did you hear about it?”

      “I know the wife of one of the partners. I’ve acquired a few paintings and a couple of sculptures for their office. It’s the same company that bought your Piedmont Park scene, by the way.”

      Landscapes were Ellie’s forte. Although she enjoyed painting portraits, as well, she preferred a little creativity with the subject’s presentation. Still, it was a job. She smiled and nodded to Joan. “Sounds great.”

      Joan handed her a card. “Here’s the name of the firm and the address. I’ve written the agreed fee on the back.”

      Ellie turned over the card and her eyes bulged. “I get to keep this?”

      “Less the ten percent cut for the center, yeah,” Joan said. “Consider it a severance bonus.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      Joan glanced at her watch. “If you leave now, you can get over there before they close.”

      The women said their goodbyes and Ellie promised to let Joan know how the commissioned painting progressed. Stopping by the apartment, she dropped off a box of accumulated desk junk and her briefcase. After taking a few minutes to freshen up, she walked to the street to hail a taxi.

      “Where to?” the heavyset man yelled, looking her up and down with appreciation.

      Ellie told him the address and climbed into the back seat. During the ride, the talkative driver hinted at his single status. Ellie, enjoying the attention but not wanting to encourage the man, simply smiled and said, “That’s nice.”

      He screeched to a halt in front of the building, and she got out. He leaned out the window and said, “Miss, do you mind telling me what kind of perfume you’re wearing?”

      Ellie rolled her eyes. “Let me guess—it gives you a migraine?”

      The man looked confused. “No, I’m serious.”

      Ellie opened her mouth to tell him about her own special blend, then stopped short. “I’m not wearing any,” she said, suddenly remembering.

      “Yeah, sure, lady,” he said. “Whatever it is, I hope my date is wearing it tonight when I pick her up.” The man tipped his hat, waved away her fare and drove off.

      Ellie stood on the sidewalk, perplexed. She raised her wrist to her nose and sniffed. Nothing, just skin. She shrugged, glanced up at the towering building, then walked in.

      When she exited the elevator onto the appropriate floor, Marcus Blackwell’s name was being gilded onto the double glass doors. The graphic artist seemed to be having a heck of a time repositioning the firm’s name on the door to work in all the letters. If they added another partner in the future, they’d have to install a third door, she thought wryly.

      Ellie СКАЧАТЬ