Authors: Laura Donohue
First Sight
First Sight
Laura Donohue
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright
©
2012 by Laura
Kidd
Donohue
.
All rights reserved, including the right
of reproduction in whole or in part in any form
.
For my husband and daughter.
Contents
1
The brisk January air flushed my cheeks as I hurried along the sidew
alk.
I
tucked my cream scarf
f
a
rther
into my pale
blue wool coat,
trying to prevent more
cold air from seeping inside. The black and white
printed
wrap dress
I was wearing
had looked
cute
in front of the mirror
this morning
but perhaps wasn’t the best choice for walking
around
outside
in the middle
of
winter in
Washington,
DC
. At least I’d worn my
black
knee-high
leather boots instead of heels, so my feet were
still
warm. A
strand
of my hair blew across my fac
e, and I brushed it aside as I continued walking
down the block
toward my office building
.
The city was already bustling around me
.
O
ther commuters
were
heading
to
work
, bundled up
in hats and scarves
, carrying briefcases and coffee in to-go cups
or insulated travel mugs
. The stores lining the streets were still closed, but the coffee shops and delis
serving breakfast
were
already
busy with the morning rush
.
A sea of red brake lights filled the street beside me, and a cab driver was yelling at a pedestrian who was trying to weave in and out of traffic rather than cross the street at the corner.
I looked up at the clear blue sky, thinking it would be such a beautiful day if it wasn’t so cold.
I glanced
down
at my
cell phone
—8:4
5
a.m.
I was actually going to be a little early this morning, which was
always a feat on a
Monday
.
A
cute
guy
in a
gr
e
y
business suit smiled at me as I walked by him, and I ga
ve him a tiny smile in return.
The sun was
beating down on
the
windows
as I approached
the building
, the light reflecting
blindingly
off the glass.
“
Maddy
! Hey,
Maddy
!”
called out a female voice
from behind
me
.
I turned to see my coworker
Marissa
hurrying
down the sidewalk
. “I got us coffees!”
“Hey!”
I wave
d and stopped to wait for her.
Marissa
’s long blonde hair was cascading around her
shoulders
as she walked. She had
on
a fitted black coat over slim black trousers and shockingly high heels. I wasn’t sure how she managed to
comfortably
walk around all day in those, but I noticed a few guys eyeing her as she
headed in my direction.
Marissa
was
a
graphic designer
at my
office. She’d started working for
our
company a year ago, and b
ecause
we were both 2
5
, and two of the younger people in our office, we
’d
quickly bonded. (“Don’t worry, you’ll catch up with us some day
,
” another coworker had announced to us the other day when she turned 30.)
Marissa
and I
shared an
office, appeared to share much of the same
Banana Republic
wardrobe, and had been m
ostly inseparable since we met.
We worked
for a
w
ebsite in
Washington, DC
that
reviewed
things to do around the DC
m
etro area
.
We covered everything from museum exhibits to restaurant
openings
to
special events
.
Marissa
and I were both on the
publications t
eam, which consisted of a few writers, editors, and graphic designers.
We wrote some reviews ourselves but mostly edited and fact-checked
submissions from
our freelance
r
s.
The reviews were all
posted
on
our website
,
and
we
published
a
twice-yearly
magazine that
covered
the
top ten
highlights
in each category.
We got to
eat at
lots of great restaurants and scope out fun activities that I might not otherwise try. It was a great
way to get out and enjoy all that
DC had to offer, and I got
to
spend time writing
for
a job that I loved.
Marissa
stopped in front of me
, and I reached out to take one of the drinks
she offered
. “
Thanks for the
caffeine fix
,
”
I said with a grin.
I inhaled the delicious
aroma of my
café mocha
and took a sip, feeling the warm liquid seep down my throat.
Marissa
took the other cup and tossed the tray in the trash
as we
headed
toward
our
building
.
“I figured we’d need it after last night,” she said with a giggle.
Marissa
and I had gone to a small art show on Sunday evening. They’d served wine and cheese, and the entire scene was as much about mingling and meeting members of the opposite sex as it was about admiring artwork.
My mind flashed back to the cute guy I’d spotted across the room but hadn’t actually gotten a chan
c
e to talk to—tall, with dark brown eyes that had locked with mine a few times as I chatted with my friends. I’d spent half an hour occasionally glancing his way but hadn’t ever gotten the nerve to go over and say hello. Although he had seemed to be making his way closer to where we’d stood, Marissa and I
ended up
leaving to meet some
friends for a drink
. I hadn’t gotten home until around midnight, which was a little too late for me on a Sunday night.
“Yeah, so much for my grand pla
n of staying in Sunday evening,” I joked.
“This was so much more fun though.”
“I won’t argue with you there,” I said with a laugh.
Marissa’s ideas were always guaranteed to be “more fun.”
I caught
a glimpse of my
reflection as
we
approached the door
s
,
noting that my
long, layered
brown hair didn’t look too disheveled from my walk
from the metro
.
A
man
coming
out of the building
held the door for
us
, and I thanked him as
we
stepped inside the downstairs lobby.
I pulled my ID card from my purse as
Marissa
rooted around her bag for hers. “Here, hold this a sec,” she said, handing her
latte
over to me.
We always ordered the same thing—vanilla latte for her, café mocha for me. The baristas at the coffee shop didn’t even need to ask us for our drink order anymore.
“Damn, I left my ID
at the coffee shop
.”
“Are you sure
?”
“Yeah, I remember pulling it out to get my wallet. I must have left it on the counter.”
“Okay, let’s go check. I’ll
come
with you.”
“No, go ahead. I’ll just run back
and grab it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”
She took her coffee back from me and
started to turn
away. “See you in a few.”
“See
ya
!”
I swiped my badge
as I walked
through the
turnstile
and waved
hello
to
a coworker
on the other side of
the lobby
. I headed to the elevator bank as s
everal people were just getting
i
nto an empty car, and I slid in behind them, telling the
woma
n
standing closest to the buttons which floor I needed.
A few moments later, t
he
elevator
doors opened, and I
stepped out
on the
seventh
floor
,
walk
ing
alone
down the
carpeted hallway.
As I pulled open the door
to
our suite of
office
s
,
I
saw him standing by the
front
desk in the reception area.
He was wearing a black suit and had a
black
messenger bag casually slung across his chest. As he adjusted the strap with a muscular hand, I noticed a silver watch peeking
out
from beneath his sleeve.
He
was asking
the receptionist a question
, but h
e looked over as I walked in. My heart skipped a beat as
his dark eyes met mine.
He was even more handsome
up close than when I’d seen him last night
.
As he
watched
me,
I took in his strong jaw,
chiseled features, and
short brown hair
.
He had a
tall, athletic build,
and I
guess
ed
that he was in his late
twenties or early
thirties. The receptionist was still
answering him
, and he turned back to
thank
her
for whatever information he had requested.