Torn by Laura Bailey Page A

is?”
“Madeline Taylor.”
“Take a seat. He is running a little late.”
    “Thank you.”
    Madeline looked around as she sat and realised there were two other women sitting in the reception, both smartly dressed and quite obviously also there for interview.  ‘Great’ she thought to herself, and said a silent prayer as she sat down. She presumed they would be seen before her. She ran through the possible interview questions she might be asked in her head and the answers she would give. Then she relaxed. She tried to put her mind into a state of calm, taking herself to somewhere it was used to going when the pressure got to her, and yet with so much riding on the next encounter she found it hard to do.
    She picked up a newspaper from the table in front of her and pretended to read it, not wishing to sit there looking vacant yet expectant. The receptionist took one of the women along a hallway, then the other, as Madeline waited for over an hour and three quarters.
    Irritation building inside her at having to wait for such a long time, she fought the urge to do what her instincts told her, itching to get up and leave. Finally, two hours later the second woman returned from down the hallway. Madeline knew now at last, she would be next.
    “Madeline.” The receptionist called her and she stood up ready to follow her.
    “I’m sorry, but Mr Harker has asked if you would mind rescheduling for tomorrow? Unfortunately something urgent has come up.”
    “Oh, of course, that’s ok.”
    “Thank you. Could you come in at 5pm?”
    “Certainly.”
    Madeline rose gracefully, hid her annoyance perfectly as she turned away from the reception and walked toward the elevator.  Waiting for it to come, she held her breath, hiding her discomposure.
    As soon as she hit the street outside the office building, she let her frustration out.
    “Arrogant son of a bitch! Who the hell does he think he is! ‘I’m so fucking important’ you can wait for me for two hours and then comeback tomorrow.”
    She felt a sharp pain at the back of her heel as someone walked into her from behind. She had stopped dead outside the building to engage in her highly vocal rant. She turned quickly, lifting her foot in pain at the same time and looking down at the injury. She was about to give them a piece of her mind, berate them for not looking where they were going, as she looked up at them.
    Daniel Harker stood mere millimetres from her, looking down at her from his height. He was larger than she had realised; taller, broader. Up close, his eyes had the most incredible depth to them, the colour hard to define, a deep green, but with lighter fleckles running through them, dazzling, startling, intense. His hair, a rich dark brown, almost black, slicked back. A firm jaw and cheekbones gave his face a clearly defined masculinity that could have been seen as intimidating with his brows knotted together as they were now. 
    “Are you ok?” His voice was deep. She detected a slight southern lilt. She knew he had been born in Texas. “Oh, yes, thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
    “Your heel is bleeding.”
    “It’s fine, it’s nothing, honestly. Thank you.”
    She turned around and started walking away quickly, not knowing what else to do. Had he heard her? Had he heard the things she had been saying about him? This really was not the first impression of herself she had wanted to give him.  She felt as though his eyes were on her as she walked away. She had the strangest sensation in her stomach, as though she had been reunited with someone who she had not seen for so long, as though she had always known him and her soul recognised him as such. It was unnerving, odd, but an instinctual feeling she could not shake. It did not make sense.
    If he had heard her outburst he had not shown it, but she was furious with herself that this could have blown her chances of getting the job now. It was hardly the impression of