Bride by Day. Rebecca Winters

imp of mischief not unmingled with fear made her want to prolong the moment of truth until the last second, but she supposed her last second was up.

      “I’ll give you a hint. Mine will probably be the only one which will speak to you personally. That is—” Her voice caught, “if—as I mentioned earlier—I’ve accomplished my objective.”

      His expression darkened. “We’re running out of time, Ms. Telford.”

      “All right. I decided to create a collage of your office building.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      “WHAT do you mean, my office building?”

      “Yours is the most beautiful one in the city, allgleaming cream with a royal blue motif. Since I work there every night, I decided to use it as the subject of my project. But I’ve filled it with people so it won’t look so lonely.”

      One brow descended. “Lonely?”

      “Yes.” By now she was busy looking for her design. “All buildings have an essence. Yours reminds me of a fabulous Greek temple, magnificent, but a little remote. I put people in all the windows to make it a happier place.”

      Once again her tongue had run away with her.

      But now that she’d met him, she understood why she’d felt those emotions. Like his building, he was aloof, yet magnificent. He was wonderful, in a scary, exciting kind of way.

      When she discovered him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes, she hurriedly bent to her task, trying to pretend she was alone, but it was impossible to forget he was in the room with her.

      Every so often she found herself casting him a furtive glance. He appeared to be studying each work of art with more than cursory interest. It shouldn’t have surprised her. A true art lover like himself could never remain indifferent, no matter the form. Many of the collages were bizarre, but she’d glimpsed a few which were true chefs d’oeuvres. Apparently he thought so, too.

      Maybe she was a little nobody of no significance. But how she hoped he’d at least find her artwork outstanding. Then she chastised herself for speculating about foolish dreams when she knew his only interest was in getting the phone number off that yellow piece of paper.

      What if it couldn’t be done? What if she couldn’t perform the required miracle?

      Another five minutes passed as they continued to sift through the various canvases. Sam was beginning to wonder if her project was even in there when she heard Mr. Kostopoulos make a sound underneath his breath.

      Her head jerked around in time to see him pluck one of the projects from a stack and hold it in front of him.

      A smothered imprecation escaped his lips. “You made this with discarded pieces of paper?” His incredulity gave her no clue as to whether he liked her effort or not.

      In a small voice she answered, “Yes.”

      There was an uncomfortable silence. Then, “Where’s my note?”

      Sam supposed the gruffness in his tone was to be expected. After all, she had taken it from his private office, even if she’d found it on the floor.

      “It’s in the top right window.”

      By this time she’d come to stand next to him, and pointed it out with a trembling finger. She could feel his gaze studying her with a thoroughness that left her shaken.

      “That’s my office.”

      “I—I had no idea,” she defended. “But I’ll admit it’s an odd coincidence.”

      “Is it?” he challenged.

      Thank heaven Lois chose that moment to poke her head inside the gallery. “Have you found your project yet? I’m closing up now.”

      “Y-yes,” Sam stammered. “We’re coming. Thanks, Lois. I owe you.”

      “Just remember to get it back here before eight Monday morning. I’ve seen Dr. Giddings hold up someone’s graduation for much less.”

      “You’re graduating?” Mr. Kostopoulos demanded when they had left the building and were once more ensconced in his car with the collage safely deposited in the trunk.

      Sam averted her eyes from his striking features. “A week from yesterday. But you heard Lois. If my professor finds out what I’ve done, I’ll have to take the class over again to graduate. In any event, the damage will cost me a drop in grade.”

      “Let’s not worry about that right now. If the worst happens, I’ll explain the circumstances to your professor.”

      She shook her head. “Once he’s made up his mind, I doubt even you could sway Dr. Giddings.”

      “We’ll see,” was all he condescended to say until they’d retraced their steps and had come in sight of his office building. That’s when she started to panic. He was expecting results she couldn’t promise to produce.

      “Mr. Kostopoulos—I need special tools and am going to have to go to my apartment. If you’ll drop me off there, you can keep your appointment. I’ll phone you when I’ve finished.”

      “What is your address?”

      Pleased he was so amenable to the suggestion, she gave him directions, then sat back in relief because they’d be parting company shortly.

      She would never be able to work with him standing over her shoulder. Not only was she nervous about the outcome, she was too aware of him on a physical level to pretend indifference to his presence.

      “Turn left at the next light. My apartment is on the south, in the middle of the block. The traffic is so bad you’d better just let me out on the corner.”

      As he slowed for the light, she reached for the door handle, but the catch didn’t give. Her head whipped around. “Will you please undo the lock?”

      Her request fell on deaf ears because he had pulled a cellular phone from the inside of his suit jacket and was telling his secretary to reschedule his appointment for the following week.

      Suddenly Sam’s heart began to race because she had this horrible premonition that he intended to come up to her apartment and watch her perform the required surgery.

      There were several reasons why she couldn’t allow him over her threshold. For one thing, her one-bedroom apartment was in complete chaos. For another, there simply wasn’t enough room inside for both of them. The kitchen and living area were combined. The only place he’d be able to sit down was the couch, and it would take her five minutes just to clear a space for him.

      She started to tell him he couldn’t park in the zone marked for trucks making deliveries, then realized it was pointless. A man like Mr. Kostopoulos wrote his own rules.

      By the time she was freed from the confines of the car, he’d removed her collage from the trunk and had preceded her to the front doors of the building.

      Once inside the outer lobby, she punched in the code which gave access to the elevator entrance. Already she was feeling claustrophobic.

      Taking a deep breath she said, “It won’t be necessary for you to come all the way up. If you’ll give me a number where you can be reached, I’ll call you the second I’ve finished.”

      The elevator door opened and he ushered her inside. His dark eyes swept over her once more. “I’m already in the neighborhood. There’s no point in my leaving until I get what I came for.”

      At that remark, they rode the rest of the way to the seventh floor in silence. He followed at her heel until they came to her apartment three doors down the hall.

      Before she could bring herself to unlock it, she turned to him, slightly out of breath. “Perhaps it would be better if you waited in your car.”

      His brows furrowed. “If you’re