At twenty-eight, Jenny Wilson was beginning to feel like an old maid. In the years after college, she struggled to make ends meet and maintain a social life, but the parties dried up when she landed a well-paying job as the office manager at a local architect firm. Now her weeks blurred together in the same, unending routine. Up at six in the morning to eat a hurried breakfast—one of those Special K egg sandwiches she could microwave while she showered—then a good half hour primping in front of the mirror, make-up and hair and jewelry, everything perfect. She was the first face everyone saw when they entered the lobby of Anders and Associates, and she wanted to make a good impression. Not just on the clients who visited, either. There was a certain coworker whose eye she’d like to catch.
