The following morning, Katrina Mandina, Tate’s secretary for the last four years, tapped on his office door at STC.
“Come in!” Tate announced.
Kat popped her head inside the office and grinned her Barbie doll smile. “There’s a Paul Persimmon here to see you. Should I let him in?”
Tate immediately recalled the previous evening’s visit to Mr. Persimmon’s Little Bookshop for the new Riley novel. A bubble of excitement coated his throat and instantly felt strange. How odd that was because he’d never been nervous in another man’s company. Not once. Strange how Kat had mentioned Persimmon’s name, and he felt his temperature rise, unable to control his emotional state.
“Let him in, Kat. Thank you.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Kat said before she trotted away.
Not even two minutes later, Paul Persim
