From an Award-winning Romance

Adjusting her jacket, Sigrid examined herself over in the full-length mirror.  The medium-weight lavender pantsuit would keep her warm while the white blouse with a perky bow that tied tight under the neck would keep her modest.

So far so good.  She looked like a Lutheran nun.

After skinning her hair back into a bun so tight it slanted her eyes, she slipped pearls studs into her earlobes and swiped on a bit of lipstick.  No need to do the whole bit today.  She wouldn’t be on camera.

She moved up closer to the mirror.  Hmmm . . . her eyes looked bald.  Maybe a little mascara wouldn’t hurt.  She rolled the wand across her lashes and checked again.  Good, now she could pass muster. Her goal wasn’t to look like a complete dowdy, but to put a damper on any sexual appeal she might have for Mik.  She didn’t want him to get the impression she was interested in another scene like the one this morning.

In fact, they’d better reach an understanding about that sort of thing. It was an aberration and would not be repeated.

            Mik--what would he wear?  For a second she thought of changing to slacks and a sweater so he wouldn’t look so shabby compared to her.  But no--too bad.  He should have thought of that before he started this stupid charade of his.

            After one last glance in the mirror, she marched down the hall and out into the living room. 

            Mik stood up when she entered and her eyes went wide.  He’d shaved, tied back his hair, and somehow come up with gray flannel slacks, an open-collared white dress shirt, and a camel hair sports jacket, which she could tell at a glance had been custom tailored. 

            “Where—where did you get the clothes?  Don’t tell me they were in your backpack too.”

            He gave her one of those smirky smiles she hated.  “The concierge brought the rack up.  Thought I might need change clothes so I had a couple of things sent over from New York when you were gone yesterday.  .  Amazing what one can do with FedEx and a credit card, isn’t it?”

            She picked up her purse.  “Let’s go to the car,” was all she could think of to say.

            They were alone in the elevator.  This was her chance.  She turned to him and cleared her throat.  Make it short and sweet.

“Mik, what, uh, happened between us earlier was an anomaly.  I’m not blaming you.  I realize I was as much at fault as you were, but now our relationship is back on a professional basis and I want you to understand that it will stay that way.”

He smiled.  “Of course.”

Following her out, he pocketed the key card, then ogled the sway of her hips all the way down the hall.  He did like Sigrid’s ass.