Today of all days, someone had cast a klutz spell on her! And she had a pretty good idea who it was. This spell casting practice by her sister could land them all in big trouble.

Leena set the plates down on one end of the counter with great care, trying not to make a sound; or drop the whole damn lot. The account exec droned on behind her as he addressed each still shot on the screen, telling the gathered team why this was the best way to advertise the next miracle vacuum cleaner.

Why in the hell her boss wanted a full meal served in a room that was darkened for the presentation she had no idea. Phyllis had these strange starts at times. She grimaced at Val, the other office assistant, who rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk down one end of the table, a tray of desserts in her hands.

Leena picked up the stainless steel coffeepot. Jeez, it was heavy! She glanced around the table. A couple of people had their coffee cups right-side-up, which meant they wanted coffee. Should she ask the others? But that might disturb the presenter. With another silent curse sent her boss's way, she headed for the guy with the open cup at one end of the long table.

As she made her way up the table behind Val, people began turning their coffee cups over or shook their heads at her. Good, maybe she could get this over without a mishap. She came to the new guy, Vincent Anderson, who neither looked at her nor had his cup upright. Arrogant--.

She stifled the thought and let out a tiny sigh as the presenter concluded. Someone called out for the lights to be turned on; everyone began clapping. She leaned down to him and caught a whiff of his after-shave, giving an appreciative sniff. It reminded her of sun-splashed porticos on a Jamaican island resort. Not that she'd ever been to one. But that's what the firm's last ad campaign had been about.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"What? Sure." He turned back to clapping and with another sigh, she turned his cup over and poured.

Leena later decided that it was the combination of the bright conference room lights coming on suddenly and the klutz spell at work. She blinked and the lid of the coffeepot swung open, cascading coffee down into the cup and onto his lap.

"Ouch!" She set the pot down as he scrambled back from the table. Grabbing his napkin, she dabbed at his legs.

"Oh, God I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?" She pressed the napkin against his thigh hoping to soak up the coffee.

"Geez. Dammit." He seemed to be trying to control himself. "I'm fine. Just a few drops. Really. Listen, you can stop that now." He caught her around the wrist and she stilled when she realized she was patting his ... well, his thing.

"Sorry" she mumbled, backing off as the heat rose up her neck and face, along with strange tingles that shot up her arm.

"It's okay. Most of it went on the floor anyway."

Stricken with embarrassment, she glanced up at him. His hazel eyes glinted with amusement and something else. "I--."

He cut her off. "It's fine. Maybe you could bring another napkin and cup for me?"

"Oh, sure." She rushed back to the sideboard and unwrapped an extra set of cutlery wrapped in a cloth napkin. She turned, bumping her elbow into a hard body part. She realized it was his abdomen. Dang it! The man had followed her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, backing into the table behind her. She handed him the napkin and looked down at her feet.

"Thanks."

She watched surreptitiously as he dabbed at the front of his khakis. He had a nice forehead and she loved the way an unruly lock fell over it.

What the hell was wrong with her? Mr. Unruly Lock could very well get her fired. In the three weeks he'd been there, he'd fired two assistants and had made the copy ad gal cry. And Leena needed this job like she needed to breathe.

Vincent handed the napkin back to Leena and stood there, his attention on the speaker. Jeanine--blond, beautiful and a man-eater. Good luck with that, she thought.

Glancing over she realized what he'd said was true. Most of the coffee had spilled on the dark carpet. The few splashes on the table were mopped up already. By him?

She secured the lid of the wayward coffeepot and gingerly poured coffee for the remaining two people, trying not to glance at Vincent or his thighs, so nicely outlined by those khakis. She should probably offer to pay for the cleaning, but she really couldn't afford it.

Back by the food, Leena rested against the wall. She and Val would wait a few more minutes then leave and come back for clean up after the meeting.

The screen still showed a shot of a nice-looking man in jeans and a white T-shirt, lying back on a sofa. He held a smiling toddler up over his chest. This was the first run of an idea pitched to the vacuum cleaner guys and she could tell they liked it. The general story was of a man who had more time to play with his kid and cook dinner for his wife because of the fancy vacuum cleaner that made cleaning a cinch.

The whole scene vibrated with good-will--the American dream, happily every after and all that jazz. Ha!

She eyed the photo with skepticism when something occurred to her. The scene wasn't quite right. What was it? She focused and it hit her. She tried to hide a grin as she muttered. "It won't work."

"Why not?" asked a quiet, deep voice almost in her ear. She started and turned, realizing too late that Mr. Hot Shot was still standing next to her. She blanched. Her sister, Carly, would hear about this latest spell gone wrong.

"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself."

"About what?" he insisted, his steadfast hazel eyes catching her gaze.

Why me?

Couldn't he just go back to his place and leave her alone? Surely he had an employee to fire or some other horrible thing still left to do? When it looked like he wouldn't drop it, she improvised.

"I was just considering how I might get the stain off your pants. And I thought about getting you a wet napkin. But I decided that would only make it worse." She cast about for something more to say. "Salt. Yeah, that's it. I'll get you some salt to sprinkle on it."

"You were watching that photo. Now tell me what about it won't work."

Vincent's eyes roved her face. Such gorgeous eyes--green one minute and light brown the next. Leena shook off the thought. Focus. That's what she needed to get through this day. His after-shave wafted over her again and she almost groaned. Better just tell him and get the hell away.

"That photo. He's supposed to be married, right?"

He nodded, his eyes bright and curious. "Yeah?"

"Well, he's not wearing a ring."

"So--oh hell, you're right." He grinned at her. "Wow! Sharp eyes."

She shrugged. At least he wasn't yelling at her or something.

"Wanna tell them that?"

Was he nuts? "No thanks. I've got stuff to do." She gathered a stack of plates and headed toward the cart set unobtrusively in the corner by the door.

"Then, mind if I say it?"

"Be my guest," she shot over her shoulder, stepping carefully away.