She's Out of Control by Kristin Billerbeck Page A

that?”
    â€œIt’s not important.”
    â€œAshley, sometimes I think . . . well, I think you live in another world sometimes.”
    My stomach lurches. He doesn’t believe it’s possible for someone else to be attracted to me. “I want to be general counsel before I leave. I need to be general counsel, or all the companies are going to think I’m poison.”
    â€œYou haven’t been there that long. It’s your chance now to say it didn’t work out. Hans is probably just a friendly guy, though, Ashley. Don’t think about that anymore. You’re protected by the law.”
    â€œThere’s another reason to keep the job. Kay was hoping I’d buy half her house as an investment.” I throw it out there. Let’s see how completely shocked he is.
    â€œReally? That’s a great idea, Ashley.”
    There’s a huge lump in my throat and shadows descend over my lighthearted mood. There’s no marriage proposal forthcoming. There’s only me and my dog-eared copy of The Rules . “You really think it’s a good idea, huh?”
    â€œYeah, it’s a no-brainer to get some equity. My condo is worth three times what I paid for it.”
    â€œI don’t want to make any immediate plans for the future,” I say.
    â€œI know how you feel.”
    Clearly.

8
    W hat was I thinking? It’s the only mantra that comes to mind when Sophia, my boss’s latest live-in, opens the door. I think Seth’s jaw physically dropped. I know mine did. She’s like a swimsuit model after the air-brushing. I actually find myself feeling a little sorry for her here, because she’s so fabulous looking, you can’t think of a thing to say. And I wonder what her conversational life is like. You’re just completely stopped by her beauty. What pressure she lives under, and who needs that? By the end of my inner turmoil, I’m convinced aver-age is good.
    Seth looks at her, then he looks at me, and I can almost hear his comical commentary. Oh yeah, your boss wants you, not this Italian model who’s living at his whims. Earth to Ashley. Rein in that incredible ego.
    â€œAshley,” Sophia’s Italian accent leaves both Seth and I gaping. Kind of like, hey, she talks . “And you must be Seth.” Seth nods. And I clumsily hold out the plant I’ve brought. “Oh, it’s beautiful, thank you,” Sophia says as she takes the pot.
    â€œIt’s an African violet. They grow well if you have a window box.” I’ve seen Sophia before, but I’ve never seen her with makeup, and boy, she cleans up good. I always thought she was gorgeous, but just how gorgeous should really be equally divided among the women of the world. She’s like Kryptonite—you can’t gaze directly upon her.
    â€œWe do have a window box. Well, come in. Hans is putting the shrimp kabobs on the barbecue and I have made a fabulous pesto to go with it.” She looks to Seth. “Can I take your jacket?”
    He shakes his head. Apparently, he’s still dumbstruck.
    â€œThis is a great place you have here,” I offer.
    â€œIt’s nice, but small, no? Hans has to pay for all those children of his, so we’re lucky to have a roof, I suppose.” She lets out a tinkling laugh and sits on a long red velvety sofa, planting the violet on a glass table beside her. She pats the seat beside her. “Come and sit.”
    My eyes wander as I take a seat. The house itself is very old-world. Although it’s a flat-roofed Eichler, it’s decorated with travertine and marble pillars, like a Tuscan villa. A baby grand piano sits beside the ornate fireplace, and the flocked wallpaper appears to be fabric. There is one exception that bolts me back into the present day: the modern, wild art that graces the walls. Everything is quite elegant except the art. It’s like something out of a mental-patient gallery. Colorful and