42: Narrow Escapes

With the New York Times tucked under one arm and his hands in his pockets, Andrew hurried across the Trust’s lobby, whistling Where or When. It had played last night at some point when he and Evelyn had danced and had kept playing in his head until he’d woken this morning with the memory of her lips and skin and lissome body against him.

When he rounded the corner into their thirty-eighth floor office, Andrew stood stock still, staring at the empty space behind her desk where Evelyn should be, then darted down the narrow hall to the kitchenette, disappointed to find it empty of all except a brewed pot of delightful smelling coffee.

Sliding his tongue over his front teeth, wracking his brain for where she might be, he ambled slowly into his office then grinned. The sturdy coffee mug of clear pink glass he stubbornly refused to relinquish to Evelyn sat steaming its fragrant bouquet in the exact spot he liked it on h