Penelope's POV
Friday morning found me running desperately late. Naturally.
The universe had conspired against me on the most important day of the week. My alarm clock had mysteriously failed. The building's ancient plumbing had taken forever to produce hot water. Now I was practically sprinting through the marble corridors of Sterling Industries like some kind of madwoman.
My leather bag bounced against my hip as I clutched a thick folder of Puregrape presentation materials in one hand and an oversized latte from the lobby cafe in the other. The elevator bank loomed ahead, and I watched in horror as one set of doors began sliding shut.
"Wait!" I called out, my voice echoing off the pristine walls. "Please hold the elevator!"
A masculine hand appeared between the closing doors, forcing them back open. Relief flooded through me. At least something was going my way this morning.
