Switch

steady monotone of my voice.

'Then I deserve to know exactly why I've been selected

and why I should consider it,' I told him. 'You can't

expect me just to jump up and down for joy because

someone's offering to take me away from al this.'

Paul opened his mouth but before he could speak, I

added, 'I happen to like the job I have, Paul. Very much.'

'I'm glad,' he said quietly, and before he could say more, Vivian came out of the bathroom.

I took petty pleasure in seeing that she'd splashed water

on her skirt and silk shirt. She'd run a damp hand through

her haircut, too, to settle it into place, and I could see the

edges of her makeup had run a little bit along her cheeks.

She didn't know I didn't want the man who wasn't even

hers, but the fact she was worried he might want me

settled the power between us, and I was on top. We both

knew it.

'If you could describe the job to me, that might be helpful,'

I told her. 'And we could set up a time for an interview.'

The conversation had turned upside down and Vivian

didn't like it, but it would have been difficult for her to

react without looking like a bitch, or worse, stupid. We

gave each other a matched pair of fake smiles with Paul

the prize between us. I stood and looked down on them

both.

'I'l get back to work, Paul.'

He nodded. I left. Behind me I heard her soft exhale and

the murmur of their discussion, but I couldn't tel if she was

castigating me or if he was defending me. I didn't realy

care, either way.

Vivian Darcy didn't intimidate me anymore.

Chapter 27

My heart skipped al kinds of beats when I saw the note in

my mailbox, but I didn't have to read the signature to

know it wasn't from Eric's original anonymous mistress. I

didn't have to know who she was to know she'd never

have sent a note on anything less than the finest, and this

was a piece of blue-lined, loose-leaf paper, the sort you

can buy three packs for a buck during the back-to-school

sales. I gave it a surreptitious sniff anyway, and caught a

hint of cologne under the scent of cheap ink.

Eric had a doctor's stereotypical scrawl. I hope you like

the flowers. His signature was mostly unrecognizable but

for the E at the front. I folded the note and tucked it into

my bag, then headed up to my apartment where I unfolded

it and laid it on the kitchen table so it could stare at me

while I made my dinner.

I had a few options. I could ignore the note, and the

flowers, which I'd brought home and finaly put in water. I

could send him a text or leave him a note commanding him