Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

The DC Insider: We are hearing that our Hottest Ticket in Town wants to get serious with his new lady but the lady’s disgruntled baby brother is having none of it. He’s making some big claims, all of which Derrick Jameson denies with a shrug. But can this budding romance bloom with all these distractions?

Ellie was starting to think her headache would never go away. It thumped in her ears and over her eyes. Even the back of her neck ached.

She’d had two employment interviews today and nothing. Well, not nothing. In the second, the interviewer wanted to talk about Derrick. He didn’t specifically ask about her dating life but he bounced around the topic, honing in on her “influence” over Derrick and his decisions and questioning if that would be a conflict. Since she was trying for a generalist HR position—one unrelated to Derrick or his habit of buying up most of the property in the city—she couldn’t imagine what Derrick had to do with her possible paycheck.

Being a fake fiancée had sounded easy, two months of playtime while they went to dinner and she didn’t panic about the water bill, but it was starting to take over her life. In addition to thinking about him and that voice...and that face...she had other issues. She’d splurged on a muffin at the coffee place around the corner that morning and two people took her photo.

And then there was the Insider. Her teeth ground together at the idea of being in the Insider’s daily round-up section for two more months. Derrick needed to knock that off. She knew she should have insisted on a “no talking to gossip sites” clause in that stupid agreement. But she hadn’t, so now she nursed a glass of wine as she propped her feet on her coffee table and tried to pretend she was stuck in a bad dream.

She’d managed to kick her heels off and find her pink slippers. She had no idea where she’d thrown her suit jacket. Since she couldn’t afford new clothes or a big dry-cleaning bill right now, not when she was saving every penny just in case, that could be a problem. She’d just leaned her head against the couch cushion when she heard the rattling. She stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to place the sound.

Jingling. Keys.

The mix of sounds had her jackknifing and jumping to her feet. The wine went everywhere. Down her shirt. On her couch. A line ran over her hand as more dripped onto the carpet, destroying any chance of getting that security deposit she so desperately needed back.

The door opened and she spun around, ready to throw the glass. She stopped just in time.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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