," haunted me. Was she saying she couldn't sit at her parents' Thanksgiving table and pretend that the man she had given her virginity wasn't there? Was she saying she couldn't pretend that she didn't love me? Millie, I decided, was the only person who could tell me what her sister was saying.It was the day before Thanksgiving, not a good day to start a new job. We inventoried the left over building supplies stored in the garage and organized the tools we carried in the van. At mid-morning we took a coffee break in the kitchen and I made excuses to go upstairs. A fax, not thirty minutes old, had arrived from Miss. Spencer.Dear Ben,This is so naughty as it is contrary to company policy. My hands are trembling because I've never done anything like this before. I know you are twenty-five and I've seen your picture. To be fair, I'm including a picture of me at the bottom of this page. Can you guess how old I am?Please... call me, NadineThe picture was nothing like I had imagined from. He looked up, meeting my eyes, gluing me to my chair. ‘My God,’ he said, harsh passion in his tone. ‘All that wrapped up in your head. What a wonder.’ I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t do anything but stare into the furnace of his eyes. Was he going to continue by saying something about plain packages having surprising contents? Was he going to mention his need to find his girlfriend? Was he looking at me the way I thought he was looking at me? Long, dark lashes descended over his eyes and he glanced up at the bartender. A frown creased his brow, and he closed the tablet. ‘Let’s go somewhere else,’ he said. It was a mark of his arrogance that he never considered I’d refuse. He took my hand and lead me out of the bar into the fresh summer air of a rainy day. ‘Where?’ I asked. Every nerve ending was singing now. No rejection, not yet, but I couldn’t believe he would want what I thought I saw in his eyes. Pausing outside the building beneath an overhanging awning, he turned to face.
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