by Caitie Quinn
"Frank. How are you?"
"You were just going to sneak by. Shame on you, Ms. Tate." He smiled, shaking his head as he made his way across the slick-shined checkered tiled floor. "I wanted to thank you for the book basket. It raised quite a sum at the school's fundraiser and made my granddaughter the envy of her girlfriends."
"No problem.” I smiled knowing my basket probably brought in about ten bucks. “I'm glad to help. Did they get their new computers?"
Every time I spoke at a school, I wished writers made more. I wished time wasn't the only thing I could give the kids in the school systems our taxes seemed to forget.
"They did. Three brand new ones sitting right there in the library. My Becky got to be one of the first students to try them out because of your donation. It meant a lot to us to see her that excited about school on a Monday morning."
I pressed the up button again and waited.
"I'm so glad." I glanced back at the group, wishing for a magic elevator. "I signed in. I'm just going to head up. You know how Catherine is if you're not on her time schedule."
"Isn't that the truth? That Ms. Sutter. Always on the go. I don't know how her new assistant keeps up with her."
The elevator door slid open with a chime, I thanked Frank, and stepped in, glad to slip away from the guy-scene going on. I'm sure whoever he was, he was very important to middle-aged men.
I, not being middle-aged or a guy, couldn't have cared much less.
Frank gave me a little wave as the doors started toward one another.
And then I heard it.
"Hold the door!"
I reached for the close-door button, hoping it would rush the process, but Frank, kind man that he was, stuck his hand between the rubber bumpers and forced them back open.
"Thanks." The tall, shaggy-headed blond stepped into view, his gaze crashing into mine for less than a moment.
Connor Ryan. No wonder. Now the super model and the middle-aged men made sense.
I was probably going to end up in a tabloid just by being on the same block with him, let alone sharing an elevator. Of course, that brought marketing on floor eight and modeling on floor four back into play.
I glanced at my watch, wondering why he was holding the doors open and not stepping in. His gaze stayed glued to the front of the building and his feet firmly planted on the floor outside the elevator.
"Excuse me."
Connor Ryan glanced in and down at me with a look that said he was more curious about what I was doing interrupting his standing around than he was in what I was going to say.
"I have a meeting I'm trying to get to."
I'd hoped he'd let the doors shut, but I'd already lost his attention as his gaze turned back toward the lobby. I got a vague, distant Uh-huh in response.
"So, if you could just let the doors go, I'll be all set."
"Uh-huh."
"Yeah. Not really a yes-or-no question,” I pushed. “More of a suggestion."
He glanced back my way, his eyes dropping down to take in my yoga pants and baby tee.
"I'm sure you can wait another moment. You don't look like you're really needed anywhere."
I couldn't believe he just said that. It wasn't every day someone was that unkind to me without even knowing me. Or, to be honest, typically even when they knew me.
"That wasn't very nice." The words slipped out, something making me braver than normal...unless you consider the fact that I’d barely whispered them.
"Excuse me?" he shifted his body to glare down at me.
I finally seemed to have his full attention.
"That wasn't very nice. You're holding me up for a meeting and instead of just being considerate and taking the next elevator—which would have been back by now—you insult me, my appearance, and my importance...or lack thereof. You don't know me, so I'm pretty sure you're not in a place to make a call on any of those things."
"Sweetheart, I am an expert on women's appearance. And, trust me, you are not exactly rocking the important vibe." With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned back to the lobby.
I fought to keep my jaw from dropping as I registered the clipped sound of heels clicking on the tile floor. Connor Ryan's expression had changed from one of rude condescension to pleased appreciation.
Great. More floor four.
"Thank you so much for holding the elevator. I'm almost late for appointment."
"I know the feeling." I'd said it under my breath, but Connor Ryan's hearing must have been worse than his manners.
He angled himself away from me and turned on the charm. "I'd never want to leave a lady in distress."
I may have actually snorted.
"So, why don't you guys finish flirting inside the elevator and we can all get to our appointments."
To be fair, the model gave me a slight smile...or at least, she tilted her head down toward me and smiled while she ogled the guy holding the doors open.
Finally, they both stepped in and turned their backs to me. She pushed a button and they continued flirting in hushed tones until the doors opened again.
She slipped him a card and he leaned out the elevator to watch her long legs strut their way down the hall to the frosted doors of the modeling agency.
I considered pushing him out. Just one big shove and I'd be on my way. My phone read six minutes past and I had no interest in dealing with one of Catherine's Timeliness Lectures. They were bad enough when I was on deadline. When I was just coming by for a lunch and chat, it would be tortuous.
When we got to the seventh floor, I stepped around him, glad to just get out of his arrogance sphere and instead walked straight into his side as he stepped from the elevator.
"You're coming here?" All the shock I felt slipped out with the words.
He glanced down as if he'd forgotten I was there. He probably had. "I'm not sure how that's any of your business."
"You know they write books here, right? Those things with words in them?"
"Oh, you're one of those people. I'm an athlete, so I must be dumb?"
"No. I'm one of those you've been nothing but rude and can't seem to stay out of the tabloids so you must be dumb people. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting someone made me late for."
I walked by Meg at the front desk, not bothering to have her call back to Catherine since I was late. Also, with how she was drooling over the dumb joke...I mean, jock glaring at the back of my head, I figured she wouldn't remember how to use a phone anyway.
Two doors down, Catherine paced in front of her desk, weaving around the piles of boxes filled with books and manuscripts. I tapped on the door and watched as she swung in my direction, a look of pure relief washing over her.
This had nothing to do with lunch.
"Thank God you're here. I was afraid you'd heard about the bet and you weren't going to show."
A sick feeling washed through my stomach. I was tempted to turn and walk out right then.
Instead, I stepped into the room and closed the door. "What bet?"
"The one I lost you in."
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chap
ter 33
Chapter 34
The Catching Kind Excerpt