Page 52 of Sin Bin

Gwen is, after all, a terrifyingwoman.

I hastily click out of the listing for the apartment on my desktop, thankful that she can’t see the computer screen from where she stands. “Hey, Gwen.Everythingokay?”

Her usual confident composure slips as she sways side to side on her heels. “Mr. Collins would like to see you for amoment.”

My heartdrops.

Oh, God, I’m about to befired.

Does he know that I’ve been apartment hunting on Craigslist during my lunch breaks?Idiot.

With that thought in mind, I shut down the desktop completely. “Sure,” I squeak, “yeah, absolutely.” I throw a notebook and pen into my bag, hooking the strap over my shoulder. “Any idea what it’sabout?”

Gwen averts her gaze, and thenIknow.

I’mdoomed.

Donefor.

Fired.

Good-bye not-so-beautiful apartment that isn’t evenmineyet.

Good-bye excitementaboutlife.

Am I being melodramatic? Yes, yes,Iam.

With lead for feet, I follow Gwen down the bright hallway to Walter Collins’s office at the opposite end. She gives a quick one-two knock, and then slips thedooropen.

“You have her?” Mr. Collins calls out from the interior of hisoffice.

I suck in a deep breath and pretend that I’m not about topassout.

Gwen and I quietly enter the office, and it’s with a jolt of shock that I realize Andre is already seated across frommyboss.

Déjà vu, butreversed.

His dark head twists as he turns to look at me, and his equally as dark eyes pin me in place. I wish I could read the emotion swirling there. Wish I could do more than just stand here, my feet cemented to the floor, my hands slick with suddennerves.

“Come on in, come on in,” Mr. Collins says, waving Gwen and I in. “Pull up twochairs.”

Before I have the chance to do just that, Andre jumps up. “I’ve got it,” he says, voice low, “Zoe,takemine.”

My gaze cuts to Walter, who is watching me like a hawk. He thinks he knows what’s up, that Andre and I are knocking boots again. Ha! Little does he know that he couldn’t be further from thetruth.

Andre’s biceps flex under his T-shirt as he deposits two chairs, one on either side of his original one. “Take whichever oneyouwant.”

Why is he beingsonice?

Maybe it’s wrong for that to be my first thought, but after our last confrontation, this . . . cordial version of Andre Beaumont has me raising my hackles and wondering what he has planned up hissleeve.

“Sit downeveryone.”

At Mr. Collins’s no-nonsense tone, both Gwen and I drop into the nearest chairs, leaving the NHL’s sexiest bad boy to practically clamber over my left armrest to retakehisseat.

Then, we’re all sitting, waiting, like naughty school children who have been caught in thewrong.

“All right.” Walter snaps his binder shut and touches his computer mouse to bring the desktop to life. “We need to have adiscussion.”

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