At least the office was quiet and cool. Her mom and dad were in town, meeting with their accountants. Even the secretaries were gone. The computer system had gone down this morning, so Dad had given everyone a few hours off until the guy from IBM came.
As Celeste bent close to the sketch and carefully drew in another table by the wall, the door clicked open behind her. She smiled to herself and pretended to con-centrate. Footsteps crept across the carpet behind her and stopped. Celeste could sense someone standing right behind her chair. A pad of paper landed on the desk next to her. Celeste dropped her pencil and, without looking around, stretched her arms up and back, grabbing the person around the waist. “Hey, baby,” she said.
“Wow, this is a nice change,” a voice said. Celeste suddenly realized that the person she was grabbing was much skinnier than Travis, and the voice wasn’t as gravelly. She jumped and her knee jarred the desk, spilling her cardboard cup of coffee—all over Mrs. Anderson’s seating plan. “Damn it!” she yelled, and leaped up.
“Oops! Sorry,” Nick said.
“What the hell are you doing? Quick, get something to wipe this off.” Celeste held up the thin white sheet of drafting paper on which the brown coffee stains were rapidly soaking in. Little drips of coffee ran off the sheet onto the desk. Nick looked around wildly for some paper towels or napkins, but there wasn’t anything in reach. Suddenly, he held up a hand. “I got it,” he said.
With one quick movement, he pulled his T-shirt off over his head, revealing his golden-tanned torso, and laid the drafting paper down on another desk, pressing the shirt against it at the same time. The coffee soaked rapidly into the soft cotton, spreading through the fabric and lifting off the paper. Celeste stared. Nick Saunders standing half naked in the Pinyon office cleaning up a spill had to be the very last thing she’d expected to see today.
She realized her mouth was hanging open a little and shut it quickly.
After a minute, Nick held up the paper. “There,” he said, surveying it critically. “That looks a little better.” It was brown and wrinkly in spots, but all of the writing was legible.
There was a little silence. Nick grinned at Celeste as if he was waiting for her to say something. She looked down at the stained sketch. “Uh, thanks.” More silence.
“I, um, thought you were Travis.”
“No, thank God.” The muscles in his chest flexed as he perched on the edge of the desk. Celeste noticed that he had a smattering of golden freckles across his shoulders. “But you can pretend I’m Travis if it means I get more of that,” he said.
“Don’t start, Nick,” she warned.
He widened his eyes innocently. “I just came down here to get some work done, and now I’m being accused of something I haven’t even done? Is this how you treat all your special Pinyon guests?”
Celeste started to respond and then paused. “Wait—
what do you mean, get some work done?” She turned and eyed the pad of paper, untouched by spilled coffee.
Scribbling in blue ink covered the first page.
Nick plopped down on a leather chair near the desk and propped his feet on the desk. He tipped back in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “For my screening party. Remember? The festival is coming up and this is my chance for some really big names to see my film. So I want the event to be the best one of the whole festival. ”
Celeste glanced nervously at the door. Why hadn’t Travis shown up by now? He was supposed to have
been here ten minutes ago. She had a fleeting vision of her boyfriend bursting through the door, dressed up like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator, and blasting Nick into a pulp with some giant futuristic rocket-launcher.
“Look, Nick, I’m sure your party is going to rock,”
she said. “But honestly, I’m not helping you. That’s Devon’s job. She’s the guest relations rep. Sorry.” She sat down at the desk and picked up a pencil, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.
Wishful thinking. Nick looked down at the scribbles on his paper and played with a stapler for a minute.
“Who’s Devon?”
“The. Guest. Relations. Rep,” Celeste said slowly, her patience waning. “And also my best friend. Trust me, she’s awesome. And has plenty of party experience to draw from.”
“I don’t know.” Nick looked up and dropped his feet to the floor. He leaned forward a little. “I was really looking forward to working with you.” His voice dropped silkily.
Celeste grabbed her phone. This had to stop. “How about I call Devon right now? So you guys can get started?” Rapidly, she texted Devon. Luckily, Nick couldn’t see the message, which read: HELP, MASSIVE
FLIRT WANTS ME TO PLAN HIS PARTY, NEED YOU STAT. She pressed send and gave Nick a big smile, showing all of her teeth. “There. She should be here any minute.”
The phone beeped and Celeste peered down at
Devon’s return message. SUPER-DEVON ON THE WAY. BTW
MESSAGE FROM TRAVIS. BROKE A BELT ON THE MOWER, CAN’T COME OVER. Celeste exhaled. At least she didn’t have to worry about a Terminator scene. She looked up at Nick. He was staring at her. Celeste looked away fast
