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seat between them. Okay, maybe she didn't have the experience they needed for this sort of wedding, as in
no
experience, but if that was the case, couldn't they have just said so instead of making her run around a track in pants? The nerve, the absolute, unmitigated gall!
    Eli said nothing as they drove through the electronic gate and turned onto a street. The farther away from Vince Vittorio's property they drove, the more irritated Marnie became. Her failure was partially
his
fault, she thought, stealing a glimpse of Eli from the corner of her eye. He should have told her to wear something a little more appropriate. She stewed until she caught him regarding her with a curious expression. "It was the rope, wasn't it?" she blurted.
    "Pardon?"
    "The rope! You guys cut me because of the rope! For your information, I couldn't climb the rope because of my pants—they're a
linen and silk blend
. If I'd been wearing something different, I could have done it."
    "That's why I told you to dress in banging-around clothes."
    God, if he said that one more time, she could not be re-sponsible for her actions. "But…" She sat up and twisted in her seat to face him fully. "But you didn't say
casual
, you said
banging-around
, and really neither of them mean the same thing as gym shorts, do they?"
    "Apparently not."
    She fell back in her seat. "And who calls workout clothes 'banging-around clothes'?" she asked irritably.
    Eli shrugged. "Sorry. I didn't know there was a difference."
    Were men just born fashion-challenged? "There is," she said with much superiority, "
clearly
a difference."
    "I consider myself enlightened," he said with that easy smile.
    A moment later the Lincoln turned and stopped. The driver got out and opened Mamie's door. Eli got out, too. Marnie stoically collected her fruit and her bag and awkwardly stepped out, juggling the stupid melon. Eli stood, his weight on one hip, patiently waiting.
    "Thank you for the interview," Marnie said pertly, and tried to stick her hand out.
    Eli put his hand under the melon, and took her partially extended hand into his big callused palm. Something tingled beneath her skin where her hand touched his, danced up her arm, and slipped right into her chest. Marnie looked up—somewhere along the way Eli had removed his shades and had the most amazing blue eyes she'd ever seen, a gorgeous mix of blue and gold. And there were little feathery lines on tanned skin fanning out at the comers.
Damn
. No job, no bonus gorgeous guy.
    "I appreciate the opportunity," she said dejectedly.
    He smiled lopsidedly. "Yeah, you really sound like you do. So listen, we're going to run a background check," he said smoothly, "and if you check out, I'll give you a call in a couple of days and we'll talk about ground rules. If you're cool with the ground rules, I'll take you to meet Olivia… that is, if you want the job."
    Wait a minute… was she hearing him right? Marnie stood frozen, her mouth open, the melon in her hand. But then she gasped and lurched all at once, and Eli caught her melon. "You mean… you
mean
, I got
the job
?"
    "If you check out."
    "Oh, I'll check out," she said, nodding her head. "There's an alarming lack of anything in my background."
    "We'll need to go over a few things—"
    "Right, right—I'll bring my portfolio to your office at a time that is convenient for you and show you—"
    "No, I mean about how we work. And there's a contract you need to sign that basically says if you die or something, it's not our fault."
    "Okay!" she said, nodding and pumping his hand vigorously. "Oh, thank you, Eli! You won't regret it, I promise! So when can I expect your call?"
    Eli smiled fully then—a stunning display of even white teeth and deep dimples. "Take a breath, girl. We'll call in a couple of days," he said, and handed her the melon. He lifted his cap and pushed his fingers through a head of thick, dark gold, sun-streaked hair. 'Take care." With a touch of his hat, he moved to the open door