Read On the Brink (Vol. 1) (The On the Brink Series) for Free Online Page B

some
time to dry, but eventually got there.
    Once
finished, I noticed that my wet clothes had left a puddle on the floor of the
otherwise pristine bathroom, so I carefully cleaned up after myself, and then
returned to the bedroom and perched on the Corbusier chair. Suzanne had taken
my briefcase as well, presumably to dry it, so I had nothing to do but sit,
wait, and contemplate the full extent of my humiliation.
    Reckless
and clumsy as usual, I had run smack into the best-looking man I’d ever seen.
On top of slamming into him—as if that wasn’t embarrassing
enough—I’d been dripping wet and looking like a drowned rat. That he felt
compelled to come to my rescue only proved how pathetic I must have appeared.
    Long
minutes ticked past. I stared out the window for a while, and then studied the
Monet. A knock sounded.
    I
called “Come in” and rose from the chair as Suzanne entered. She carried a tray
with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of assorted cookies.
    “Your
clothes should be dry in twenty minutes or so,” she said. “In the meantime, would
you like a hot cup of coffee? If not, I can bring something else.”
    “Coffee
would be wonderful,” I responded. “Thanks so much.”
    She
smiled. “You’re very welcome. I’ll be back soon with your clothes, and Mr.
Manning had me call Ms. Klein. She’s expecting you around six.”
    After
she left, I sipped the steaming coffee cautiously. It wouldn’t do to spill
anything here. Deciding to try a cookie, I picked one up and nibbled it
carefully over the plate. A couple crumbs fell on my robe. Collecting the
crumbs and placing them carefully on the tray, I decided against a second
cookie, not wanting to make a mess.
    Just
as I finished my coffee, Suzanne returned, carrying my clothes. Dried and
flawlessly pressed, my blouse and skirt looked better than they had when I put them
on in the morning.
    “Here
you go,” she said, placing the clothes on the bed. “When you’re ready to leave,
just go out this door into the main living space. Then, take the door on the
right, which leads into Mr. Manning’s office and the reception area. You don’t
have to worry about disturbing him. He’s gone into the city for a meeting.”
    After
she left, I dressed quickly, and then found my way back to the reception area
where Suzanne sat behind the large, curved desk.
    “Thanks
for everything,” I said, “and please thank Mr. Manning for me. It was very kind
of him to let me dry off in his suite.”
    “You’re
welcome. Have a pleasant evening.”
    As
the elevator descended toward Perfect Transcripts, I wondered what Suzanne had
told Berta, and what Berta, in turn, had told Moxie. As the elevator reached
the fourth floor, I girded myself to deal with the barrage of questions that
were certain to come my way.  

 
 
 
 
 
    Chapter
Eight

 
    When
I entered Perfect Transcripts, Berta was engrossed in a phone conversation. I
gave her a little wave, and she nodded and motioned me toward the transcription
area. Sitting down at my workstation, I put my headphones on and got directly
to work. An hour or so later, Moxie tapped my shoulder.
    “Time
for a break,” she said brightly. “We’re dying to hear all about your little
adventure.”
    “There
really isn’t much to tell,” I said, following her into the breakroom. Sara and
Crystal were already there, seated at the Formica-topped table. “My umbrella
died an anti-climactic death two blocks from the office, and I got completely
drenched. Mr. Manning saw me in the atrium, and insisted that I come to his
suite to dry off.” I wasn’t about to tell them that I’d crashed face first into
him. The embarrassment was a little too fresh for me to laugh at myself.
    “You’re
not getting off that easily,” Moxie said. “What did you talk about? What’s his
suite like?”
    “I
didn’t really talk to him,” I replied. “One of his receptionists, Suzanne, took
care of me. His suite is decorated in a