Up Close and Personal Read Online Free PDF

like his. On the glass desk surface, I find a stack of fancy card stationery with a list of names and addresses next to it—nine in all. Piece of cake. Glad for my Catholic school education which taught me the fine art of penmanship, I spend the next hour addressing the envelopes and writing out the invitations.
    At exactly 10:01, he calls to add one more guest to the dinner party. A half hour later, the phone rings again. It’s him. Of course it is. Who else could it be? He’s wondering if my new car’s been delivered.
    “I’m getting a new car?”
    “Yes. You can’t drive around in that rattletrap of yours.”
    I start to get the warm fuzzies, but, with his next statement, I crash back to earth. “If you got hurt, who would take care of things?”
    Right. Should have known. I’m his personal assistant after all. So, of course, it’s all about him. You’re living in a gorgeous house, eating yummy food, working in a glorious office . So quit yer bitchin’, Caitlyn . Darn. I hate it when my conscience slaps some sense into me. “The car hasn’t arrived, Mr. MacKay,” I say in my sweetest voice.
    “Moseley will let you know when it gets there.”
    “I’m sure he will. Thank you for letting me know.”
    Finished addressing the invitations, I’m just about to call the messenger service when Moseley knocks on my office door. “Your new car’s here, Ms. Bennett.”
    Excited to see what Mr. MacKay ordered, I follow the butler to the circular drive in front of the house. The car is a silver Honda CR-V. The winter sun glints off it, so bright it hurts my eyes. “Oh, my word.”
    Sporting a smile, Moseley drops the keys in my hand. “It’s the latest model with all the bells and whistles.”
    Squealing with happiness, I hug him. Can’t help it. I’ve never driven a brand new car before. “I can go get my things now.”
    “Yes, Miss.” His smile grows broader.
    I dash inside and change into my jeans and tennis shoes. Can’t very well do a move in a business suit. When I arrive at my apartment, my roommate’s absent. No surprise. She works and attends school. I spend the afternoon packing as much as I can. Some will go into storage, some I’ll take back with me. Busy as I am, I lose track of the time, and before I know it, it’s after four. It will take me at least an hour to get back to McLean.
    I write a note to my roommate explaining I’ve moved out but will be back for the rest of my things. Not wanting her to suffer financially, I write her a check for next month’s rent. Thirty days will be plenty of time to move my things into storage and for her to find another roommate.
    Unfortunately, I don’t make it back to MacLean until after six. Given the bumper-to-bumper traffic, I’d way underestimated the time it would take. Frazzled, dirty and sweaty, I rush inside, eager to clean up before anyone sees me. I’ve almost made it to the curving staircase when I run dab smack into Mr. MacKay.
    He’s bare chested, wearing a pair of black sweats that hint at powerful legs. Clearly, he’s been working out. A bead of sweat rivulets down his brow, and he wipes it off with the towel slung around his neck. When he does, his bicep bulges, and I’m momentarily left speechless.
    He, on the other hand, is not. “Where in the blazes have you been?” His eyes narrow into slits of molten gray.
    I tear my gaze away from his hard abs, his roped arms. “Err. Moving my things.”
    “I called your cell phone and you didn’t respond.”
    Shoot. “Sorry. The battery’s hit and miss. I turned off the phone to conserve power.”
    When he crosses his arms against his chest and widens his stance, my mouth waters at the sight of him.
    “Did I not make myself clear? I need you available to me at all times, Ms. Bennett.”
    “Yes, you did.”
    “I’ll arrange to have a new phone delivered tomorrow. Don’t turn it off.” He waggles a finger in my face like an old teacher of mine used to do.
    “You don’t have