Proposals by Alicia Roberts

Chapter One
    My job was boring, and I liked it that
way.
    This was my second week working at Neilson
& Sons, a law firm owned by George Neilson, and his sons Dave
and Richard. They specialized in civil and estate law, but all that
mattered to me was that they were kind bosses, and as a
receptionist, I never had too much work to do. Most of my day
consisted of answering phones, running errands, letting lawyers
know that clients had arrived and asking clients to wait: truly
mind-numbing work, but it paid the bills - barely.
    Today was different, though. Today I got my
first glimpse of Brad Reinehart.
    George Neilson had told me to expect a "tall
man", and to send him straight through to his office without making
him wait. Despite the warning, it was still a shock when Brad
walked in, six feet three inches tall, his physical presence a
force to be reckoned with. It was as if he leaked testosterone, and
my eyes widened slightly as he came up to the reception area and
asked for Mr. Neilson.
    His hair was dark brown and he had tan skin,
his dark blue eyes a shocking contrast to the rest of his face.
They were kind and smiled at me, so I smiled back and led him to
Mr. Neilson, despite the flutters in my stomach. As he walked
behind me, I couldn't help feeling a powerful friction in the
air.
    I'd meant to ask the office manager, Lisa,
who he was, but the phone started ringing and I rushed off to
answer it. I was busy the rest of that hour, until I noticed Mr.
Neilson walking Brad out of the office.
    Brad was one of the most attractive men I'd
seen in a while, and I wondered if he was single; he chose just
that moment to turn around and give me a quick wink goodbye. My
heart flipped as I smiled and wondered if I'd see him again.
    As soon as I had five seconds free, I rushed
to ask Lisa who "that tall man" was. She looked at me like I was in
second grade, and slowly, pronouncing his name like I was stupid,
said, "Brad Reinehart. He's the firm's biggest client."
    I nodded like I'd understood, despite the
fact that I actually had no idea who Brad was. I hadn't been
keeping up with the financial papers or the news, but I wasn't
about to give Lisa the satisfaction of knowing that. Before I had a
chance to Google his name, I was sent on an errand, and given
enough work to keep myself busy till five.
    A few minutes after five o'clock, just as I
was about to leave, Mr. Neilson came up to me apologetically.
    "I'm so sorry," he said, "But Mr. Reinehart
wants his store renovations inspected today. I'd send a junior
lawyer, but they've all left - could you please take this checklist
and go to the store to confirm that the work's been done?"
    He hastened to add that the office would pay
my cab fare and that I could come in a few hours late tomorrow
morning. Of course, that made it all worthwhile, and since I didn't
have any plans for the evening (and it was a Wednesday anyway) I
trotted off dutifully, the checklist in my bag.
    The renovated store was in a "boutique
shopping centre," in Soho. The windows were completely boarded up
with "Coming Soon!" logos, and I knocked on the door, hoping
someone was already inside.
    I'd been expecting a junior executive, so I
was surprised when Brad opened the door. It struck me that we'd be
alone in the boarded-up store and it was getting quite late, but I
tried to look professional and took out the checklist, ignoring the
friction that I felt in the air again.
    We walked around the store and Brad pointed
out things that had been done, walls that were painted, lamps that
were hung, low tables that were placed strategically in corners
(probably to display "sale" clothing, I thought).
    I ticked off everything dutifully, feeling
Brad's powerful presence beside me. He must work out a lot, I
thought, as I sensed his muscles flexing, or maybe he goes rowing.
His scent was sharp and oceanic, and at some point I realized his
hand was on the small of my back, guiding me around the empty
store.
    "What do you think?" he