Page 75 of David's Proposal

I stiffen under his touch, and he notices.

“I wanted to fire that woman tonight,” he says bluntly.

“What woman? The cute brunette?” I ask, puzzled.

He nods.

“Pam,” I say.

I just couldn’t help myself.

His eyebrows slide up into an expression of amusement.

“Pam?”

“I named her Pam. That’s how I refer to her.”

“Oh… Okay,” he says.

“Life is funny with a writer,” I add comically.

“It sure is.”

I don’t want to ask him in what capacity that woman works for him. And, um… Am I replacing her?

“Am I replacing her?”

The voice in my head presses her hands against her mouth, her eyes looking like flying saucers.

His answer comes swiftly.

“Not in the slightest.”

I feel a pang of relief.

“Is she your assistant?” I ask.

“No. She keeps me company.”

“She still keeps you company?”

“Only when necessary. And speaking of that. She will keep me company when I go out. She’s a good distraction, so I opted against firing her.”

A nugget of panic swirls fast in my chest.

I look at him like I’ve swallowed some bitter medicine and I’m waiting for a glass of water.

“It makes sense,” I say as if my mouth is filled with molasses.

“I wanted us to talk about it so you don’t freak out.”

“Who? Me? Freaking out? No way.”

I’m acting, of course.

I am freaking out now. Not because it’s a rational reaction. Quite the opposite. For me to freak out it doesn’t have to make sense.

My reaction is primal, untamable.

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