Page 8 of Paw Letter Word

Luca led them upstairs and down the hall to a home office. Mila trailed behind him and Gerri, taking in the various pieces of art, and when she saw Gerri pull Luca aside for a moment, she walked toward the opposite side of the room.

There were sculptures of humans turning into polar bears etched along the wall. They were the first thing that caught her eye when they walked in, fascinating her.

While the furniture and walls were neutral, the vibrant colors of the art and accents around her seemed to breathe life into the space. Such sophisticated glamour, like a dream of time gone by.

“Mila,” Gerri called, shattering her dream-like existence.

Mila tried to keep her nerves at bay. What started as a whimsical adventure that she didn’t give much weight to was now shaping into a very real situation.

“Okay, my dear. It sounds like he isn’t home just yet, but he is on his way. I will stay in here so I can have a little talk with him first. Just to set the stage for you. Luca is going to show you to the sitting room, and I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you.”

Mila nodded. Her stomach was in knots. What would he think of her? How would this meeting go? It was awfully casual for an interview. Her thoughts had begun to spiral.

Her wide eyes turned to Luca, who smiled patiently. “Luca, is there a ladies’ room close by?”

“Yes, of course, miss. If you’ll follow me.” Mila trailed the young man down a short hall to an elaborate bathroom. Continuing to be baffled by this elaborate estate, she almost ran into him when he stopped short at a door she hadn’t even noticed. She quickly excused herself, and he opened the door for her.

“Thank you, Luca.”

“My pleasure, miss. Can you find your way back, or shall I wait?”

“Oh, I can manage.” Mila flushed red as Luca nodded and turned on his heel.

Mila leaned over the sink, looking down into the basin. She had begun to feel sick. This all seemed like so much to absorb. She splashed a little water on her face and dried it off with the hand towel.

After a couple of deep breaths and a touch-up to her makeup, the dizziness had passed. She stepped back out into the hallway and found Luca waiting for her outside the office with no sign of Gerri.

“Ms. Wilder will let you know when she is ready,” he told her, showing her to another door she had not noticed previously. “Until then, you are free to wait in here.”

Mila stepped into the sitting room, and Luca pulled the door shut, leaving her alone with her thoughts. This room was more neutral, most definitely for guests, and now that her mind was running rampant, she couldn’t settle herself.

She started to pace when she heard a man’s voice through the door. Her heart leapt. It must be Cyrus. He went into the office across the hall from her.

Mila crept into the hallway, wanting to listen in, and that’s when she heard Gerri’s voice just on the other side of the door. Before Mila could step back, the entrance opened with Gerri gesturing her in.

Mila slipped through the opening between the gigantic doors before looking up into the room. She had her best flight attendant smile pasted on her face, but she was trembling inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the brighter lighting, she made eye contact with Cyrus Bechtel. Her whole body tingled as those dark eyes sent a thrill through her. She froze on the spot, unable to breathe, sensing the gruff demeanor radiating from him.

He doesn’t like me. I am not getting the job,she realized.Why am I here? This is such a sketchy situation in the first place. What was I thinking? Just leave. Run.

And yet, all she could do was stare into the deep hazel eyes penetrating her body. Somewhere inside, she ached for him. She felt so vulnerable … as if she were standing there naked.

She felt Gerri’s eyes on her and sensed that mischievous grin that was so characteristic of her new friend. Cyrus extended a hand to greet Mila, but she could hardly move.

“Cyrus Bechtel, allow me to introduce Miss Mila Dillon.” Gerri’s voice was barely audible.

She felt like she was floating on air as she moved toward his desk. Everything unfolded as if she were in a trance, unable to choose any of her actions for herself but was simply forced to watch them play out. She reached her hand out to place it in his, and on contact, electricity moved through her entire being.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bechtel. I am honored for the opportunity,” she choked out, attempting to remain neutral in tone.

“Oh, no. Miss Dillon, the pleasure is surely mine. Please, call me Cyrus.”

His voice vibrated down into her sex. She couldn’t believe the instant attraction and deep desire that washed over her, making her skin prickle.

She grinned wider. “Okay, Cyrus.”

She didn’t want to let go of his hand, but she forced herself to withdraw. He gestured for her to sit but didn’t say anything else. He, too, looked as though he was thoroughly shocked.

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