Page 1 of Office Intrigue (Office Intrigue Duet 1)
One
BEEP-BA-BEEP.
“Son of a bitch.”
It should be a crime to have to get up before six o’clock in the morning.
“Eight more minutes is all you get,” I mumbled into my pillow, talking to myself as I smacked the snooze button on my phone.
Beep-ba-beep.
Eight minutes was not nearly long enough. It felt more like two.
And, okay, fine, it was safe to say I wasn’t a morning person, but this was one of those rare days when it was necessary that I got up at the ass-crack of dawn. The worst time of the day as far as I was concerned. But it was a necessary evil, because unlike…nobody…I didn’t crawl out of bed looking like a supermodel. That shit didn’t really happen. To anyone.
I rolled onto my stomach and kicked the comforter off my bed and onto the floor. Getting rid of my warm cocoon was the only way to ensure I wouldn’t snuggle down again and ignore the annoying beep-ba-beep that was supposed to be a signal to get my happy ass out of bed.
Of course, I still closed my eyes. That’s what snooze buttons were for, right?
•
Beep-ba-beep.
“Craaaaaap!” I was jarred awake by that annoying sound once again, but this time procrastination was not my friend.
Before I could screw myself out of any more prep time, my feet hit the floor and my tired ass was vertical. I made a big production out of yawning and stretching as I marched groggily to the bathroom. Through the haze of sleep, I flipped on the shower before stripping off my pajama pants and tank top, leaving them on the floor to pick up later. It wasn’t that I was a complete slob…okay, that was a lie, I was a complete slob. Especially when it came to laundry. Good thing I rarely had people over to my apartment.
During my shower, I had a moment of clarity as my hands drifted downward, soaping every inch of skin. It was time for me to schedule another waxing appointment. This realization did not make me happy. How could it? What sane woman enjoyed having her pubic hair brutally ripped from her nether region? Maybe there were people who were into that sort of torture, but I wasn’t one of them.
However, it was a necessity. A woman had to be prepared for the day she ran into the man who would rock her world and tip her otherwise unsteady existence right on its axis.
Not that I was looking, of course. I had far better things to do than wait for Mr. Right Now to pop into my life and make anything tip or spin.
Okay, another lie.
I was on a roll today.
It was too early and I hadn’t had coffee. That was my excuse.
When I was done in the shower, I cut the water off. One towel was used to dry my face, then went on my hair; the other was for drying me from neck to toe.
There.
The biggest portion of my morning routine was taken care of and that only cost me…
Thirty-four minutes.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
I stared at myself in the mirror. Even I knew I should’ve had a little more energy. After all, I had a job interview in less than two hours, which meant I should’ve been darting around like it was the first day of school.
Unfortunately, mornings did not contain the fuel necessary to light a fire under my ass.
That meant I had to rush through my makeup, but first brushing my teeth was critical. If my dentist wasn’t always on my ass about it, I would’ve skipped flossing, but I had to listen to my mother bitch about enough already. I didn’t need to get a lecture about good dental hygiene, too.
“See, Mom?” I offered a toothy grin to my reflection. “All shiny and clean.”
Once that was done, it was time to put my face on. I had to look good. It was a requirement. Admittedly, my resume wasn’t exactly noteworthy, so it was imperative that I looked the part of a professional woman. How did the saying go? Fake it until you make it?
The makeup only took a few minutes, then on to drying my hair, which took a good twenty more thanks to the fact that I had so much of it. Then the flat iron to make the long strands shiny and straight. Finally, on to my clothes. A cute yet conservative black skirt and a white silk camisole paired with a charming yet uber-conservative blazer was the winner. Then I grabbed the best black heels I owned—a sexy little pair of Kate Spades that I couldn’t live without when I saw them—and slipped them on my feet.
I was finally ready.
For coffee.
Clearly, I spent too much time on my morning ritual, but hey, I was twenty-four years old and jobless. The interview I had that day was going to be the last of many, I hoped. I’d only been on eight in the past two weeks, none of which had panned out, but I had high expectations for this one. It was one of the most prestigious PR firms in the city and they were looking for a secretary. Which I thought was the same thing as a receptionist, right? Different term, same job? At least I hoped so because I exceled at that, truly. I mean, I was born to talk on the phone, so yeah, I figured if nothing else, I had a damn good shot.
