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meeting to close out the day.
    She’d made a sizeable dent in the backlog of messages when her interoffice intercom buzzed.
    â€œCelia, Mr. Reese is on line two.”
    Celia frowned. “Mr. Reese himself or Mr. Reese’s assistant?”
    â€œMr. Reese.”
    â€œPut him through,” she said crisply.
    She wiped her hand on her skirt then shook her head. What did she have to be nervous about? As soon as the phone rang, she picked it up.
    â€œCelia Taylor.”
    â€œCelia, how are you?”
    Even his voice sent a bolt of awareness through her body. When would she stop acting like a teenage girl in the throes of her first sexual awakening? It was ridiculous. It wasn’t professional.
    â€œI’m good, Evan. And you?”
    â€œI don’t have a lot of time. I wanted to meet for lunch today. That is, if your schedule permits?”
    There was a note of confidence in his voice. He knew damn well she wouldn’t say no. Hastily, she checked the clock.
    â€œWhat time?”
    â€œNow.”
    Panic scuttled around her stomach. Now? She wasn’t prepared to meet him now. Surely he didn’t want to reschedule their informal pitch session from Friday to now?
    â€œI thought we had a lunch date on Friday?”
    She was stalling as her brain scrambled to catch up.
    â€œI want to discuss Friday today. There’s been a change of plans.”
    Her heart sank. There was no way she could have her act together right now.
    â€œI only have forty-five minutes,” he continued. “We’re two blocks apart. Shall we meet in the middle? Our choices are French, Italian or good ole American.”
    â€œI’m up for anything,” she said faintly.
    She propped the phone between her shoulder and her ear and began frantically digging for her notes on his account. She stuffed everything into a folder and reached for her briefcase.
    â€œGreat. Shall we meet in say five minutes? I’ll start out now.”
    â€œSure, meet you there.”
    He hung up and for a moment she stood there like a moron, the phone still stuck to her ear. Then she slammed it down, took in a deep steadying breath and declared battle.
    She could do this in her sleep.
    Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she all but jogged out of her office and down the hallway.
    She passed Ash Williams, Maddox’s CFO, who held up a finger and opened his mouth to say something to her.
    â€œNot now, Ash, she called as she hustled by. “Late for an important lunch date.”
    She didn’t even look to see his reaction.
    She ran past Shelby and hollered back as she punched the button for the elevator.
    â€œIf Brock asks, I’m having lunch with Mr. Reese. Just tell him Friday got moved up. If anyone else asks, just tell them I’ll return this afternoon.”
    The elevator opened and she ducked in. As she turned around, she saw Shelby’s look of befuddlement just as the doors slid shut again.
    When she reached the lobby, she stopped in the bathroom long enough to check her appearance. She wouldn’t stop traffic for sure, but at least she didn’t look as frazzled as she felt.
    The heels she’d chosen to complete her outfit were fabulous—as long as she didn’t have to actually walk in them. A trek down the block on uneven cement sidewalks wasn’t what she had in mind. She kept tennis shoes in her office for just such occasions, but five minutes notice on the most important lunch date of her career didn’t give her time to worry over footwear. She’d just suck it up.
    When she crossed the street to the next block, she realized she never had gotten where they were supposed to meet. Italian, French or American. Her gaze scanned the bright umbrellas scattered along the sidewalk cafés, first on her side of the street and then across.
    A vacuum formed, sucking all the oxygen right out of her lungs the moment she laid eyes on him. He stood in the sunlight, one hand shoved