Two hours later, Danielle looked up from her computer at a knock on her open door. A man holding a large box, half as tall as he was, stood in her doorway.

He wasn’t wearing a uniform, so he didn’t appear to be a delivery guy. Besides, the box was wrapped in what at first glance appeared to be blue birthday wrapping paper, not shipping paper.

A birthday gift? No one here at the office knew it was her birthday.

She glanced at the time on her computer. She had a male model coming in to interview at three o’clock. Maybe he was early. She could get that out of the way while she waited on her father who was characteristically late. No doubt he would blame it on the weather or other flight delay problems.

“You’re early,” she said.

Confusion crossed his features. Adorable. Oh yes! He was hired before he even got inside her office. He was tall and toned with clean-cut features. It was hard to find an attractive male model without a beard these days. And those bright blue eyes were going to light up her camera.

“I try to always be on time, if not early,” he said.

Too bad she wasn’t doing audio. His smooth voice would be perfect.

“Come in,” she said. “I’m meeting someone, but he’s late. We can go ahead.”

He came inside, shifting the box. “Where do you want this?” he asked.

“What is it?”

“It’s an Apple computer. But I think it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Danielle glanced at the smaller Apple computer sitting on her desk and salivated just a little.

Who all knew she wanted a new, larger, computer? Her mother, Claire, her father, Noah, and her ex-boyfriend.

“Just set it here, on the floor,” she said, indicating the space beside her desk. The relief was evident on his face as he set it down. Danielle didn’t see a card attached.

I’ll have to come back to this.

“Sit,” she said, nodding toward the empty chair in front of her desk.

After he sat, she laced her fingers under her chin and allowed herself to gaze into his eyes. “How long have you been a model?” She asked.

“I’m not a model.”

She smiled as she considered the possibility of exclusivity. She could be the only graphic artist with his handsome face on book covers. “So… no experience?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Not with modeling.”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to have experience.”

He grinned and leaned back in his chair.

Okay, maybe he’s a little too relaxed.

“Maybe we could--” Her phone buzzed. It was a text from her father.

Is Samuel there yet?

She wrote back. Who is Samuel?

I sent him to bring your birthday present.

Danielle looked up at the man sitting across from her. Her hopes for exclusivity crumbled.

Is it a computer? She texted.

Silence.

“Are you Samuel?” she asked, looking up at the man sitting across from her.

He nodded.

Where are you? She texted.

Stuck at the airport in Dallas. Thunderstorms.

“When was he going to tell me that?” She asked, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not sure,” Samuel said.

Danielle scowled at her phone. Who is Samuel? She typed again.

My newest pilot.

Why is he here?

In the process of moving. I took advantage of him being in Houston.

Danielle blew her bangs out of her eyes and ran a hand through her hair.

She glared at Samuel, who wasn’t smiling anymore. “You’re a pilot,” she said, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice.

“Right now I wish I wasn’t,” he said, straightening in his chair, one hand on the chair arm. “I can go,” he said.

Don’t go. “Wait,” she said.

He sat back, watching her expectantly.

“You work for my father.” She made sure to keep her voice calm.

“I started yesterday. Today, he sent me to buy your birthday present.”

She smiled. “That’s my father.” She glanced at the box in her floor. “Who wrapped it?”

“I did,” he said.

“That seems like a lot to ask.”

“Oh,” Samuel said. “He didn’t ask me to wrap it. He just asked me to pick it up from the Apple store and drop it off here. He said he didn’t have time to pick it up before he met you for lunch.”

She melted a little at the thought of this man – this handsome stranger – picking up wrapping paper for her gift and wrapping the computer himself.

“He’s not coming,” she said.

“It’s storming in Dallas,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, checking her phone. No messages. She shoved it aside.

“Do you have alternate plans for your birthday lunch?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’ll just order something and have it delivered. I might use the time to set up this computer.”

“I can take you to lunch.”

Her eyes widened. The old Danielle Worthington would have jumped at the opportunity to have lunch with a pilot who looked like a model.

No. The new Danielle was under a dating moratorium. Maybe I should go to AA. Hi, I’m Danielle. I haven’t had a date in five weeks, four days, and ten hours.

Lunch technically wasn’t a date.

I’m Danielle. Please help me.

He was waiting for an answer.

“I’m--” I’m normally not this daft. “I can’t,” she said.

He was frowning again. “But… it’s your birthday. Surely you want company.”

“I do, but--” You’re too tempting.

The wave of nausea came out of the blue. It lodged in the back of her throat, and she knew without a doubt that she was going to be sick. She held up a hand. “I’m going to be sick,” she said. I should not have skipped breakfast.

She slipped out of her chair onto her knees and, turning her head just in time, threw up into the wastebasket.

As she hunched over the wastebasket, gagging, she felt Samuel pull her hair back and hold it. He handed her a Kleenex, and she wiped her mouth.

It was one of the most mortifying things she’d ever had happen. So much for impressing the handsome pilot – that she would not, absolutely would not, go out with. Or even out to lunch.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m better now.”

He put a hand under her elbow to help her up. After she was safely back in her chair, he placed a hand on her forehead. “No fever.”

“You’re a doctor now?” She asked.

“No, but when I was five-years-old, my mother decided to give me two little sisters.”

“Wow. I don’t envy either one of you.”

“You don’t like children?” He asked, pulling the plastic bag from her trash can and tying it up.

“They’re okay. Just not for me.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving the room and taking the plastic bag with him.

Danielle leaned back and closed her eyes – just for a moment. Then she pulled a mirror out of her handbag and quickly checked her appearance.

This was not good. First of all, she was rarely sick. But that wave of nausea had been overwhelming. This was November. Was there a bug going around? She’d felt okay… Then she remembered the nausea this morning while they were shooting. She was definitely coming down with something.

And second, it was not cool to throw up in front of a hot model pilot. Even if she wasn’t dating right now, and she wasn’t, she could not be throwing up in front of him and having him hold her hair.

She groaned. And sighed. He’d held her hair.

And checked her for fever.

It was good thing she wasn’t open to dating.

Samuel came back into the room and placed a package of saltine crackers on the desk in front of her as he sat back down in the chair.

“What?” She asked.

“They’re good for nausea,” he explained. When she just looked at him, he reached over, opened the package and held it up for her.

She pulled a cracker from the sleeve. “Where did you get these?”

He shrugged. “My truck.” He set the crackers back on her desk.

Danielle nibbled the end off the cracker. “You keep crackers in your truck?”

“My mom has me keep some with me in case I forget to eat.”

Danielle finished the cracker and reached for another one. She swallowed a bubble of laughter. He was a mama’s boy. It was cute.

“Your mother’s pretty smart. I feel better.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Let’s go get something to eat, then we can get this computer set up.”

“But…”

He shook his head. “There’s no way I’m leaving you now. You don’t get to throw up on your birthday, then eat by yourself.”

He must think she was pathetic. “I had plans.”

“Yes, I know. Your dad. But he can’t be here right now.” Samuel lifted an eyebrow and smiled at her. “And since I work for him, I’m your alternate lunch escort.”

It’s not a date. It’s an alternate lunch escort. He was right. She did need to eat. And it was kind of pathetic to be eating lunch alone on her birthday.

She wasn’t going to tell him that her plan for tonight was to have pizza delivered to her apartment. Alone.