“Don’t you dare lick my face anymore.” I try to sound as serious as I can through my giggles.

But Truffles isn’t buying it. He licks, and licks, until finally I sit up and climb out of bed.

“Fine. You happy now?” I tease.

Arf. Arf.

“Yeah, yeah,” I moan, “Mama was only trying to sleep in. The nerve of me, right?”

Truffles spins around and around before darting off into the living room–the normal dance he performs before I take him outside to conduct his business.

After I slip on some shoes and slip into my coat, I make sure I have the right keys, then head out, an eager Truffles leading the way.

Of course the sight of 11B’s door taunts me like a display of forbidden fruit.

Just keep walking. Just keep walking. I sing to myself, sounding a lot like Dory.

Once down the elevator, Jules greets us both. “Bonjour! No work for you today?” he asks, bending down to pet Truffles.

“I’m working from home today, Jules.”

He rises back up from bended knee and says, “Oh? Well, how lovely. Would you like me to take Truffles out for a stroll? I’d be delighted to.”

Truffles barks and lifts his paw, which always makes me laugh.

“Um, sure. That would be great, Jules. Oh and how was your second date with the mystery lady?”

His face turns red. “Third date is tonight. It’s all going wonderfully. And, what about you and Simon Grant? Things getting lively?”

I lower my gaze from his, embarrassment flooding my face. “No. We had a date last night, but he never showed up. Left me waiting in the lobby for over an hour. I called his cell, but it went right to voicemail.” I shove my hands in my coat pocket and shrug.

“Oh dear, well hopefully he had a good excuse. If not, the entire building will likely have him exiled.”

We laugh and Truffles chimes in, always needing to voice his opinion too.

“Okay, well, I will bring this little guy back up to you in about an hour. He and I chat it up while we are out there. He should be good and tired by the time I bring him back to you.”

“Thanks so much, Jules,” I say heading back to the elevator.

“It’s only my pleasure, LB.”

Back in my apartment, I brew some coffee, make a couple pieces of toast, and sit at my small dining-room table. I open the blinds, the sound of them clacking as I pull on the cord. Bright rays hit my face, instantly warming me from head to toe. I rarely do this: take time to soak in the sun, enjoying nothing but the view and some quiet time. I’m usually in a hustle each morning, a victim to the same routine. Crawl out of bed. Take Truffles out. Come back home and shower. Get dressed. Call Ar—

Crap!! I slept in and forgot all about my daily FaceTime chat with Arabella.

And it’s an hour past that time. I wonder if she’s been trying to reach me.

I spring from my chair and dart to my room to retrieve my phone from my nightstand. I remember deciding to turn it off last night, part of my plan to sleep in.

I grab it, turn it on as I make my way back to the kitchen. And sure enough, Arabella has not only tried to reach me via FaceTime several times, she’s also texted me about a dozen times. Oh I feel horrible. We’ve never missed a call without it being planned well in advance.

I text her back.

Me: Arabella! I am so sorry I missed our chat. I slept in.

Minutes later…

Arabella: Girl, you had me thinking that Jaxson was either giving you some hot lovin’ or he kidnapped you.

I laugh.

Me: Nope. Neither. But I did have a nice time with him.

Arabella: How nice?

Me: Just dinner and nice conversation. I shared stuff and he shared stuff.

Arabella: No kisses?

Me: Almost. We got interrupted. Maybe we are suited to be just friends.

Arabella: Friends to Lovers…

I shake my head, freeing it from the thought of me and Jaxson becoming more than friends. When he held me last night, part of me wanted so badly for him to finish kissing me. My head resting in the plane of his muscular chest, taking in the smell of his cologne; it was like I belonged with him. But between Simon standing me up, and all of my past relationship fails, maybe friends is just better. Safer. Even though being close to him last night brought back all the feelings that stirred inside me that day I first laid my eyes on his eyes at the airport. Desire.

Me: Not so sure friends to lovers will happen. Anyway, I hope you have a great day, sweetie. Chat later?

Arabella: You bet, luv. XO

I finish my toast, pour myself a second cup of coffee, then call the office to check and see how the morning has started. And to check on André to make sure he is handling Daniella’s first day on the job properly—managing to keep his fanboy tendencies in check.

“Hey, boss. We miss you here. You never work from home; is everything okay?”

“Good morning, and yes, all is well. I just need to give my brain a break after losing sleep and all over the pitch to La Boutique. Is everything going as planned with Daniella?

“Everything is fab, boss, she’s”—he lowers his voice to a whisper—“she is so damn beautiful. You two could be sisters. Seriously.”

I chuckle. “Well, I hope she likes working with us. Did you give her the information I prepared for her about the launch of the magazine, outlining her role and responsibilities?”

“Yep. And she seems giddy, boss. She’s super nice and asked lots of questions—all of them I was able to answer, of course. She did mention something about her husband wanting to speak with you about the launch of his new men’s underwear line. So I took the liberty of scheduling in a conference with him tomorrow morning, 10 a.m.”

“Lovely. And thanks André. Be sure to call me if you need anything. I’ll be in tomorrow morning my usual time.”

“See you tomorrow, boss.”

I hang up, toss my phone onto the coffee table, and plunge into the couch’s soft cushion. This working from home stuff feels more like playing hooky. I think I’ll even stay in my pajamas all day. I sip on my coffee as I mentally plan the rest of my work / hooky day. A sound in the hallway outside my door catches my attention.

It’s probably Jules and Truffles making an early return. Sometimes Truffles can be quite the boy diva, barely having enough stamina to walk around the block without me having to pick him up.

I get up, make my way to the front door, swinging it open, fully expecting to see Jules stringing along a worn out, full-on-panting Truffles.

But no, it’s not Jules or Truffles.

It’s Simon. Simon stand-women-up Grant.