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never be that lucky.” She smiled again.
    If it hadn’t been for that smile, he might have strangled her. He gave her a look before stalking to the door, put the key in the lock, and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t budge. He jiggled it around. Nothing. “This doesn’t work.”
    â€œWhat do you mean it doesn’t work?” she said anxiously, and she was suddenly beside him, jostling him out of the way. The key wouldn’t turn for her, either.
    Chelsea yanked it out and held it up to the dim light. “Oh no !”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThis is my spare apartment key!”
    â€œOkay, well, look into your bag and get the right one,” he said, gesturing to her tote bag, from which one shoe was protruding.
    â€œNo, no, it’s not there,” she said frantically. “I have the wrong key in my purse, Ian! How can I have the wrong key? I’ll tell you how,” she said before he could answer. “I have a bowl at home where I keep all my keys. I must have picked up this one by mistake.”
    He wondered how many keys the woman had that she required a bowl, but never mind that—“Are you telling me we are really locked in?”
    She looked up at the ceiling lights. “At least until the power comes on again.”
    â€œ Aaaah! ” Ian said and kicked the door in frustration. “That could be hours!”
    Chelsea gasped. “ Hours! ” She suddenly whirled around and picked up a chair, one that was next to the receptionist’s desk for visitors. She tried to raise it over her head for reasons that first eluded Ian, but then she hoisted it against her chest, legs out, and started for the door.
    â€œWhoa, whoa,” he said, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her into his chest to stop her from ramming the chair through the door. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed as he wrested the chair from her grip.
    â€œBreaking us out!” she cried. “I can’t be here all night! I have to get some sleep. I have to be ready for tomorrow!”
    A twinge of guilt nicked him. “First of all, that’s tempered glass, Chelsea. You’d just knock yourself out. Second, I don’t think the partners would be too happy to find you busted out like that because you need your beauty rest.”
    She gasped as if he’d just slapped her. “What a sexist thing to say! It’s not beauty rest; it’s just rest .”
    â€œYou’re missing the point—okay fine,” Ian retorted, in no mood to debate her. “You don’t need beauty rest, obviously.”
    She blinked at him. And then she seemed to actually blush a little, although it was hard to tell as low as the light was. And then she sagged against him, giving up. “I’m just saying—we have to get out.”
    â€œWe’ll get out,” he said, and he gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder that he didn’t quite feel. She wasn’t the only one who needed her beauty sleep. Correction—he needed beauty sleep. She just needed sleep.
    He remembered that Jason had a television in his office and began striding in that direction.
    â€œWait, where are you going? Do you know another way out?” Chelsea asked.
    Ian didn’t respond, just kept walking. He could hear her run to catch up to him.
    He walked into Jason’s office and turned on the TV. The meteorologist was gesturing to a huge swath of blue that covered the entire east coast. Chelsea crowded in beside him—actually, she gave him a bit of a shove out of the way so she could stand in front of the TV. He gently nudged her to one side. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching.
    â€œThis is one for the ages, folks. If you haven’t heard, the mayor is advising everyone to shelter in place,” the weatherman said. “Now, back to Debbie and any news on the power outages.”
    â€œOh my God,” Ian groaned.
    â€œI don’t think