The first thing I check at work on Monday morning is my email. I have to, there's a law or something.
Or there should be.
Just in case any new memos have come out that need my immediate attention.
'Course, that's what I tell myself. The real reason is because I'm an email addict. I check all my emails first thing--my work account, my home account, my fan fiction account and my submissions account. Yeah, okay, I have a lot of email accounts.
I have my reasons, I like to make sure everything is sorted in its proper place. Having all my submission emails go to one address keeps me organized, then I don't lose stuff.
Scanning through my email, I see an icon for one from Sunshine, one of the few people who have my work email account. Sunshine never sends me emails, and if she does, she never uses this address unless it's urgent.
This had to be urgent. 'Course, what I warrant as urgent, and what another fan girl warrants as urgent usually has a great deal of variance.
Lynn, Hi, it's Sonya/Sunshine.
You need to check this out. It's important. Don't know if it's a hoax or not, but I thought you might like to pass it on. Looks pretty real to me.
Notice from the Federal Bureau of Investigation
There is a new serial kidnapper on the loose in the United States. He targets young female fan fiction writers on the Internet and kidnaps them.
Be on the lookout for this man.
If a new person enters your circle of Internet friends, be wary, and give out no personal information to anyone you know through the internet.
The Fan Fiction Killer's mode of operation includes working his way into a fan fiction circle and persuading them to give him their contact information. Afterwards he makes physical contact.
Please forward this letter to all your friends who write fan fiction. It may save their life.
If you think you have any information regarding the Fan Fiction Killer, please contact the FBI.
Darius Osborne, FBI.
I read the notice over a couple of times, and shook my head. There were some links in the bottom, and I clicked on them, which took me to an official-looking FBI page with the same warnings on it.
Something didn't ring true about it, so I went to the FBI homepage. After searching for at least fifteen minutes through the site, I could find no connection to the page link in the letter.
I rolled my eyes and popped off an email back to Sonya.
Looks like a fake to me, I can't find anything on the FBI homepage that hooks up to this.
Thanks for the tip, though, it's all common sense, really...
I'll mention it in the forum, though, just to remind everyone to be safe.
I closed the email and shook my head in disgust. The things people would do to get email addresses. It baffled the mind. I headed to my website's forum, and posted a quick reminder to everyone to be safe on the Internet, and not give out personal information.
My phone rang, and it was my supervisor, Douglas Wilmont. He barked an order for me to come straight to his office, and I packed up my stuff and headed that way.
Only a few minutes later, and I was standing in the doorway, his assistant Leslie showing me in, and then going back to whatever it was she was doing. Probably her nails.
"You wanted to see me, Mister Wilmont?"
Wilmont looked me up and down. His fuzzy brown mustache even from the doorway looked like it needed a trim and it shook as he let out a sigh while gesturing for me to come in.
"Lynn, come in. Have a seat," he said, pointing at the vacant chair across from his desk.
Wilmont loved to wave his meaty hands about.
The other chair, as non-decrepit as a chair could be, already held a man, his broad frame making the chair look tiny and uncomfortable, like it should have seated a kindergartener.
I sat down, glancing at the man next to me, and my arm slipped off the armrest.
This man was that gorgeous.
Thick blond hair, deep blue eyes and a wisp of a smile on his face topped off the broad shoulders and dark gray suit.
"Lynn Broadmore, this is Jack Edwards, he's new to the accounting department."
I held out my hand to shake his, and was met with a firm grip, a broad grin on his face.
"Nice to meet you," he said in a voice that could have belonged to a phone-sex line.
I had to restrain my drool. "Nice, uh, to, uh, meet you too," I said, my cheeks firing red at the stumbling words. I closed my eyes to chastise myself at my stupidity. Still, his appearance stunned me. My knees already felt weak at his intent gaze, a gaze that sent a shiver of female response down to my toes, and then back up to other too-long-dormant places.
"Jack will be working in the cubicle next to yours, and you'll be helping him get acclimated," Wilmont said.
I jerked my head around, my eyes popping open.
This Adonis would be working next to me?
My palms started to sweat.
"Okay," I said to Wilmont. I faced Jack and smiled my biggest, most perky smile. "Whatever I can do, I'll be glad to help."
Jack nodded, a strange twinkle in his eyes as he looked me up and down. I crossed my arms over my chest, covering my stomach and black T-shirt, hoping that my jeans didn't look as bad as they usually looked.
I never left my cubicle, and my apparel had never been a big deal, at least not until this second. I truly was a jeans and T-shirt girl, although today, the black T-shirt had some detailing around the neckline, so it wasn't completely plain. Still, I was seriously rethinking my work-wear choices. I think Bella and I will need to go shopping with some of those Christmas gift cards I got.
"So take him and get him settled in," Wilmont said.
I stared at Wilmont for a second. Why on earth was he asking me, of all people, to take care of this? Surely there were other people in the office to train him. I wasn't a supervisor or anything, why me?
Jack's wrists dangled off the edge of the armrests, and those attentive eyes sent my heart into palpitations of the female-who-hasn't-gotten-any-recently variety. I could almost hear Bella in my head. Who wouldn't want this Adonis hanging around? 'Course, what I was going to do with him, I just didn't know.
Well, I could think of things, but let's face it, some of them were illegal in several states.
Wilmont quickly ran through what I needed to do for Jack, and I made a mental list. Nothing terribly hard to remember, just basic stuff. I stored the list in my brain.
I nodded my head when he finished and stood.
Jack held out his hand for me to lead the way, and I walked out the door. Jack stayed right on my heels, and the strangest feeling of being checked out ran over me. I resisted the urge to sway my hips.
Hush would have swayed her hips. 'Course, Hush was a virtual part of myself, only created in pixels, the part that only exists in the Internet. She wasn't real. I was, and I wasn't about to even think about swaying my hips for this guy. I'd probably wind up knocking something off a shelf if I did.
Besides, he probably had women all over him wherever he was. And I would simply be another minion to flatter his ego.
No thanks. He was just too darn pretty. Good eye candy, but that was all that I wanted to even think about with him.
Could he be gay? A guy that attractive, that well groomed, I had to wonder...could he be?
"So how long have you worked here?" Jack asked as we walked.
Not with a voice like that, I thought. I shrugged, keeping my mind focused on the moment, and not lost in Lynn-land. "Eternity."
Jack chuckled and raised a very lick-able eyebrow at me. Oh God, did I just think that? A lick-able eyebrow? Since when were eyebrows lick-able?
Since they were artfully formed on the Adonis Jack Edwards, that's when.