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didn’t think anyway. I just thought he was a good person, a very good person, and one that I thought was worthy of more than 500 words on why he was one of the sexiest men in sports.  I thought of the way he treated Stan, a man who worked for him, with such respect and consideration, the way he cared about the kids he mentored and the charities he ran.  It made me feel bad for judging him as a simple baseball player, because he wasn’t.  He was an excellent human being.
    Who happened to like women with curves, of which I had plenty.  This had been weighing on my mind as well.  I kept trying to convince myself that this wasn’t the reason I was interested in him, if I was interested in him at all, which I didn’t think I was.
    I was jarred from this constant stream of nonsense that had been floating around in my head for the past two days when the phone rang.  I jumped for the second time in as many minutes and picked it up.
    “Grace Taylor,” I said.
    “Hello again, Miss Taylor,” a warm, friendly, and familiar voice said to me.  My eyes widened, and I looked around before suddenly remembering that no one could hear his voice but me.
    “Mr. Hunter?” I asked.  Megan was walking back down the row of cubicles, and I tried desperately to avoid eye contact and will the color in my face to recede.
    “I know I told you to call me Grayson,” he said, and I heard the warm ring of laughter in his voice.
    “Yes, you did,” I said and then got quieter as Megan returned to her seat. “It’s just that I’m not used to the men I interview calling me up out of the blue.  You startled me a bit.”
    “Well I’m sorry for that, and I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you since we parted ways,” he said.
    My heart was thumping in my chest.  I stole a glance toward Megan, who was once again typing furiously on her computer.  My mouth was suddenly dry, and I seemed to lose my command of the English language.
    “What’s that?” I managed to get out.
    “Well I’m heading out of town next week for an away series in Baltimore, but I was hoping you were free Saturday night.  There’s a new Cirque du Soleil show opening and Stan was kind enough to get some front row seats for me,” he said as casually as if he were ordering coffee.
    I paused.  In fact, I paused for so long that I believe he thought I had hung up.
    “Grace?” he asked.
    “I’m still here,” I said.  Megan was looking at me now, one eyebrow raised.  Now I wasn’t worried about the color in my face, because I could feel it all draining as her eyes and smile widened maniacally and I had to ask Grayson if I could put him on hold before she began to shriek.  Fortunately, he said that was fine.
    “That was him, wasn’t it?!” Megan asked, using her tiny legs to roll herself toward my desk.  I regained all the composure I could.
    “Who?” I asked, and she hit my shoulder.
    “Stop that!  It was Grayson Hunter, wasn’t it?!” Her voice lowered to a whispered hiss as she said his name, as if anyone else hearing it would break a spell we had over us.
    “Yes, it was Mr. Hunter in fact,” I said.  Megan pointed to the blinking red light.
    “Why is he on hold?” Her smile was excited; she was practically bouncing in her chair.
    “He has actually asked me on a date for Saturday night and I haven’t decided what to say,” I said, attempting to mimic Grayson’s coffee-ordering tone.
    It didn’t work.  Megan, instead of shrieking, stared at me in utter terror.
    “What do you mean?  That sentence doesn’t make any sense,” she said.
    “I don’t know if I want to date him,” I said again, more flatly than before.
    That’s when the shriek came.  Several people passing by the cubicles turned to look, but those sitting next to us had grown used to the very loud sounds that came out of this very small person.
    “Grace,” she said more calmly, “I love you, but I don’t