“Hey Stacey,” she said, taking the phone call.

“Did you drop off the painting?”

“I’m there now. Getting ready to get on the elevator.”

As Macy said it, she saw a man answering his cell phone at the elevator doors closed. She sighed, wondering if it ever paid off anymore to be respectful of others.

“Okay, good. I’m hoping they like this. If they do, they want their hallway done by me.”

“That’s great,” Macy said, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach. She sometimes hated herself for not having the confidence and drive that Stacey had. Not to mention Stacey had her father, who supplied her with cash like a broken ATM spitting out hundreds for free.

“It is,” Stacey said. “The busier we get, the more we all make.”

“Of course.”

“When you see Dave, tell him to please call me right away.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks Macy. Hey, did you get your coffee?”

Macy looked down at her shoes. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Damn. I was going to have you get me one.”

“I’ll stop on the way back, the first one didn’t work out so well.”

“Okay...”

“Don’t ask,” Macy said. “I’ve got to go, the elevator is coming back down.”

“Smile, be confident.”

Stacey hung up and Macy held the phone out. She smiled and nodded, making a funny face. Stacey was a nice woman but she could get annoying.

“You know, staring at a dark screen with that face is cause for concern.”

Stacey turned her head and saw a man standing next to her. The first thing she did was scan him.

Why? Why did she do that?

He stood holding the jacket to his suit over his shoulder, hooked on his finger. A second after seeing him, the flood of his cologne snuck up Macy’s nose, a musky scent that somehow worked with the way he looked. Tall, broad, a man of business with striking features. As he stood staring at the elevators, he looked poised for a commercial, his chiseled jaw line and perfect frame leaving Macy speechless.

"Didn't mean to offend you," he said, turning his head, looking at Macy.

She took to his brown eyes; they looked like they had a touch of hazel to them, magical eyes that would change slightly in different light.

She felt her body react with a cresting wave of warmth that ran head to toe, making her toes curl into her wet socks. The gesture reminded her that her shoes were covered in coffee, she was there to deliver a painting, and that even the faintest thought of talking to man that good looking had to be nothing short of a fantasy.

"No," Macy said, "I was talking to... a friend."

She felt strange saying 'my boss' and didn't know why. Maybe because the man next to her gave off the aura of a super powerful businessman, the kind that made his own rules.

"Sure you were," he said, then pointed to the elevator. The doors were open and it stood empty. "After you."

Macy nodded and took a step. When she tried to take a second step, she tripped on nothing - literally nothing. It was enough that the man reached for her but more importantly it caused him to see her shoes.

Fuck, Macy thought.

She hung he head, trying to hide her red cheeks, and walked into the elevator.

The man stepped in and pressed for the ninth floor.

"Fifteenth for me," Macy said.

She then realized that he wouldn't push the button for her. Why would he? He was the business guy, if anything she felt she should have pressed the button for his floor.