Chapter 5

In the parking garage of her building, Sarah got out of my car, but leaned in to say, “See you in the morning!” I got a quick close-up of her chest when she did that, and a nice view of her legs when she climbed into her minivan.

The next morning, Sarah was waiting in the lobby when I came off the elevator. As promised, she was dressed in slacks with a matching blazer, over a light sweater. If she was trying to cover up her good looks, she failed miserably. Even in this outfit, she was very attractive. Her height and those long, long legs were simply accentuated by the full-cut trousers she wore, and, if anything, I got a better appreciation of her trim torso and entertaining bust line. With her hair pulled back and held in a pale blue clip that matched her eyes, she looked even better than she had the day before. Even more desirable.

“Good morning,” I called.

“Hi!” Sarah smiled, turning to greet me. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Sure.” We walked toward the restaurant.

The place was set up as a buffet. We got trays, and she took a lo-cal blueberry muffin, a grapefruit half, and black coffee. I almost felt guilty piling my plate with scrambled eggs, sausage, and “hash browns,” but that’s what I felt like eating.

“No wonder you look the way you do,” I remarked as I buttered a piece of toast.

“What? This?” she asked as she picked a bit off the muffin and popped it in her mouth.

“Yes. I thought we were having breakfast. I feel like a glutton, sitting across from you.”

Sarah laughed. “You said last night you wanted to know more about me. Here’s something I wouldn’t tell just anyone. I made French toast for the kids this morning before they left on the school bus. I make damn good French toast. I had some nice, crisp bacon with it. It’s okay, I did my miles on the treadmill after I got home last night.”

“I see you wore slacks today.”

“Yeah. That creep doesn’t need to be looking at my legs like he did,” she said.

“You’ll break his heart,” I teased.

“Do I look okay in this outfit, Don?”

I looked at her between sips of my orange juice. I wanted to tell her that she would probably look great even in a burka, but instead, I said, “I think you look just fine. I like what you did with your hair. If you were going for business professional, I’d say you pulled it off.”

“I wanted to look a little more severe today, you know, hair tied back, ready to start digging. Maybe these will help.” She fumbled in her bag, pulled out a pair of reading glasses, and perched them far down on her nose. “I decided to give the eyes a rest from contact lenses today. I have my prescription sunglasses for driving and these for work.”

The glasses certainly completed the look, if she wanted to resemble the librarian that gave all the guys wood in high school. “Perfect,” I deadpanned.

We worked non-stop that day, eating delivered pizza in the conference room. It was almost six o’clock when Owens appeared in the doorway. “Should I start another small project? Or are you two about ready to call it a day?” he asked, still wearing that painted-on, cheerful, lecherous smile.