Plum Girl (Romance) Read Free Page B

and Lonnie couldn't tear her eyes away.
    Lunther stood up and spun around, and she averted her gaze so he couldn't tell what she'd been thinking. "Well, 'night," he said quickly, and plodded heavily back to his office.
    Less than a minute passed before Lonnie checked the clock again: 5:48 p.m. Twit hadn't emerged from his office in the past half hour, so she hoped she could just slip away to freshen up in the rest room before meeting Dominick downstairs. Of course, at that moment, she heard a door swing open, and within seconds caught a glimpse of her boss waddling around the corner and toward her desk.
    "Leslie? Oh, good, you're still here. I know you secretaries like to cut out early whenever possible," Twit said. Well, there went the freshening-up plan. She knew that she should correct her boss when he called her by the wrong name, but she really didn't care enough. Anyway, she figured it was only a matter of time before he went through every other L name until he accidentally stumbled upon Lonnie. She was waiting for that day, and delayed gratification was perfectly fine with her.
    "Did you need something?" Lonnie asked with as much eagerness as she could muster, considering her panty-inflaming-but-utterly-platonic friend was waiting downstairs, and she had yet to apply some Plum Daiquiri lipstick.
    "Yes. I just want to let you know that within the next couple days I'm going to be expecting some confidential materials—faxes, actually—and I want you to keep an eye out." He altered his inflection, making his words deliberately slow, so she'd be sure to comprehend. "We really need to be discreet—that is to say, careful —with confidential faxes, okay?"
    Her expression remained even, and she replied, "Sure, Beauregard, no problem. When any faxes come in, I'll bring them right to you."
    Twit held up his hand as if to say sloooow down now, and interjected, "Now, wait, Leslie. I never said 'any' faxes. I mean, I don't want you to bring in materials from the Atrium." The Atrium was a cafe on the second floor that faxed a list of daily specials to every company in the building. Lonnie hardly classified that as confidential, but apparently Twit wasn't as optimistic about her reasoning skills.
    Looking at him, bemused, she just answered, "I understand, really. Don't worry."
    With a curt nod, Twit turned and duck-walked back around that damn corner. Okay, five more minutes, she thought as she scurried to the rest room. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. Curvy was one thing—and a description she'd heard since adolescence—but she was starting to think that if she didn't locate a treadmill and/or a craving for lentils and lettuce wraps soon, her curves would push right through to the next size. She shelved these insecurities for the moment, though, and quickly applied just enough lipstick to give her mouth a hint of wine color, before heading out the door.
    She found Dominick leaning against a marble column in the lobby. Her stomach dropped, but then, she had skipped lunch (unless you counted those two Kit Kats and diet Coke she'd had at her desk, which surely you wouldn't). She held her ice-blue coat at her side and moved purposefully toward him. Her heart fluttered when Dominick's face broke into a wide grin, and his eyes gave a super-quick scan of her body in her wine-and-black paisley dress. She loved the dress; it came right below the knee, with black lace trim at the hem of the skirt and long sleeves. It hugged her body without being tight, which—she hated to admit—made her feel sexy.
    Damn, why did she have to wear this dress when she was already feeling sexy just being near Dominick? Now, all she'd need was a spicy Bloody Mary to warm her blood, and she'd probably crawl right into Dominick's lap. Then again, who was she kidding? She'd never been the instant gratification type. And definitely not the uncontrollable-passion type. Not for a long time, anyway.
    "Hey, you," he said, smiling.
    "Hey," Lonnie