He wanted to talk to her, he realized. Really talk to her. There was something in those green eyes that made him *need* to talk to her. Yesterday, at ...he magazine office when he’d stumbled upon her in the break room, it was the first time he’d ever really looked at her. Sure he’d seen her before and he knew her name, he knew the names of everyone who worked at the magazine, but until yesterday, their paths had never crossed. He smiled to himself remembering the way her face had flamed bright. It hung on her for a minute. ?S?Sir, I'm not sure that would be appropriate.? ?I want to thank you, and can think of no better way than to do so personally.? He chose that moment to run roughshod over the encounter. ?Your services have been invaluable, and I owe you. I'll pick you up fromyour home Friday night at seven. Dress is formal.? The eyes told the battle in her head. She lamented for a bit then agreed.He spent the remainder of the week looking forward to it. When Friday came he left the. More

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