Excerpt: [Option B]

All she wanted was to see his package.

The man in the elevator was good looking, to be sure, but Constance wasn’t interested in his face. She wiggled forward, casually. He was carrying a brown-wrapped parcel, about the size of a bread box. And really, she wasn’t so much interested in the package as the address on it.

When he’d gotten on the elevator, she hadn’t paid a bit of attention until he’d asked the operator for the seventh floor. That was Editorial, Constance’s floor. It was then that she noticed his package. It could be the one she’d been waiting for.

Constance shifted her weight so that she wasn’t standing directly behind his broad back. She leaned closer, trying to be casual.

No good. Obviously the man was getting the wrong idea. She glanced away primly and adjusted her little librarian glasses.

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. Elsie from accounting got on and asked for the sixth. Couldn’t the woman walk one flight of stairs? Constance eyed her ample backside. People on this elevator had places to be. People to meet. Packages to open.

If she could just see around his arm. She leaned forward again.

He caught her eye and winked. She sniffed and looked away.

He did have nice eyes…entirely beside the point. The point was that a strange man she’d never seen before, who looked nothing like a postman, was bound for her floor carrying a package that may or may not contain a particularly fine pair of gloves she’d ordered especially from Paris. Constance had many good qualities, but patience wasn’t one of them.