Restraining the Receptionist: ... the Receptionist, Book 2 by Juniper Bell Page A

wouldn’t have ever gone to Atlantic City. He pushed me there. That’s what Ethan did. He pushed me. He made things happen. Pushed my boundaries. Pushed me so far I nearly got burned.
    If I had any sense at all, I’d grab this window of get-the-hell-out and run like the wind. It’s not like I’d have to run far. Simon would be right there, waiting for me with open arms.
    And yet, and yet…nothing too terrible had happened. Ethan had gotten there just in time. He was like a fisherman who’d let the line go far, far out, then reeled it back in. He’d let me dance my way into danger, then snatched me back before I could be harmed. Ethan would never let anything too bad happen to me. But the ride would be wild. The question was, would it be too wild?
    I didn’t want to go back to my apartment. When we got close to my neighborhood, I leaned in to the driver and said, “Drop me at the corner, please.”
    “That corner, by the alley?”
    “That’s the one. Don’t worry, none of the criminals are awake at this hour.”
    Reluctantly, he did as I directed, and I walked down the grungy alley, kicking aside brown paper bags as I went, until I reached Inktation, my tattoo studio and spiritual haven. Of course it wasn’t open yet, but I happened to know a back way in. I jimmied open the window and crawled through.
    The smell of rubbing alcohol embraced me like a lover. God, I loved this place. I made my way past the boxes of supplies, gloves and inks and such, and onto Bobby O’s table, where all the magic happened. That’s where I fell asleep. And that’s where all the answers came to me.
    I woke up like Sleeping Beauty being shaken awake by a dreadlocked, frowning Prince. “What are you doing here, Dana? I got appointments all day today.”
    “Bobby O!” I flung my arms around him. “I got a rush job for you.”
    “You can’t rush art.”
    “Fine. I have a job that you can take all day with. And bonus, you get to see something you haven’t seen in a while.”
    And one last time, I took off that damn sundress.
    Two weeks later, having completed my vacation and recuperation, I arrived at the office of Cowell & Dirk with a brand new attitude. I’d done a lot of thinking as I healed. Healing is a fascinating process, in case you never noticed. Your body has this magical power to recreate itself into something new and different. Similar to what existed before, but always a bit changed. It could be a bump or a scar or a variation in texture. Same is true of the inside too. We experience pain or injury, we heal, but we’re never quite the same afterwards.
    But as a diehard ink-lover, I believe we’re even more beautiful after the healing.
    I unlocked the office and walked into the quiet, beige foyer where it had all started. The smell of copy machine and lemon Pledge, with a hint of coffee, welcomed me. My nipples tightened. Yes, I’m well trained that way. I scrutinized the room as I walked to my desk. Nothing had changed. My chair was still positioned exactly how I liked it. When I opened the top right hand drawer where I kept the headset, it winked back at me like an old friend.
    I lovingly put it on my head and began retrieving the messages that had come in overnight. Someone, clearly, had been taking Cowell & Dirk’s calls. But not at my desk. Maybe they’d hired an answering service until I came back.
    Someone from the Woodfield Group had left a message. The name sent quivers down my spine. The message said simply, “Please let Dana Arthur know that all the paperwork has been completed, and that she has our most sincere apologies.”
    That threw me for a loop. Paperwork? I didn’t accept their apologies, and I wanted nothing to do with their paperwork. But I shoved the Woodfield Group out of my mind. I didn’t want them to ruin my first day back at work.
    I checked my outfit, a high-necked, sleeveless white tank top and a red skirt with a slit up the side. What lurked beneath, Ethan and Simon would have