Heat Exchange

Chapter 1




Janey stared at the her phone, feeling tears well up in her eyes. The email had just come in as she'd been waiting on the ground floor for the elevator.



TO: Janey Pankowski

FROM: Vince Edelston

SUBJECT: Your Invitation



Hey, Janey. Got your message about the concert. I'm kind of busy this week so I'm afraid I can't make it. But thanks for thinking of me. That birthday cake was awesome. We'll definitely use your company for goodies when the holiday season comes. It was great to meet you and your assistants.



Take care,



Vince Edelston

Program Director

Smith Greggor Systems



Janey deleted the email, sniffing. It was her third rejection from a man she'd asked out on a date in as many months. She guessed it served her right for trying to move forcibly past her own shyness with men. She'd figured if guys wouldn't come to her, then she'd try going to them and ask them out. What could she lose but what little ego she had left as a 29-year-old virgin?

So what had happened? Fail, fail, and fail.

This time she'd been really assertive, too. "Would you like to go with me," she'd said clearly to Vince's voice mail system. Not "Why not join us" or "Hey, drop by if you feel like it." She'd made it super obvious that she was asking for a date. The least the man could have done was acknowledge that he was refusing a date, not a casual invitation. And returned her call instead of sending a cop-out work email.

Guys. They made no sense to her.

She didn't get why the good guys ignored her and only the sleazy ones came on to her. Even the sleazy guys just wanted to grope. Not date her.

It wasn't like she was hideously ugly. Her face was average. True, she didn't go to the trouble of plucking her eyebrows, but she wasn't overly hirsute in the first place. Her hair was brown. And sure, she didn't have the best body in the universe—her breasts could in no way be called perky and too many samplings from her catering gigs ended up in her rear end and thighs. But she didn't look that far different from her sisters and they didn't have problems attracting guys—guys that in some cases, Janey had actually found for them! So what was it about her that said she's not girlfriend material?

She blinked back the tears as she tucked away her phone, then looked back and forth between the elevator doors, waiting for one to ding. The only other person standing nearby waiting for the elevators was a tall young man with a briefcase. Her eyes passed over him, then did a double-take because, well, who wouldn't look twice at that? Dark brown hair tousled from actual wind rather than artfully styled, wire-framed glasses, wide shoulders, and a tanned, shadow-stubbled face that was lean, angular, and sensual all at once. Whew. While not pretty, the guy was beyond cute and well into the land of magazine-cover hot.

He seemed about Janey's age, but that's where the similarities ended. He wore a pair of loose khaki trousers that defined his hips and legs just enough to show that he was athletic but not bulked up. His ecru shirt looked plain, but it had shell buttons and was some kind of sheeny Italian fabric, obviously not off the Walmart rack like Janey's. He wore a nice, simple narrow belt low on his waist. His shoes were those black leather ones that actually looked stylish and comfortable, like they'd been custom-made for his feet.

So she wasn't surprised that he didn't seem to notice her, even though she was the only other person waiting. He was out of Janey's league in all ways.

Unfortunately, her body didn't seem to have gotten the memo. It was on full red alert as she gaped at him. Until the elevator dinged and the door in front of him opened.

Almost too late she realized she'd been standing there like a star-struck teenager. She grabbed her totes and scrambled onto the elevator, feeling her face heat. Three people were running from the lobby towards the elevators as the doors slid shut. Hastily she hit the button to keep the doors from shutting, but too late. The doors closed before the elevator chasers made it and the elevator started ascending.

Hoping her face wasn't still too blatantly flushed, she hit the button for the seventh floor and glanced over at the elevator's other occupant with a rueful look meant to convey, too bad, I wasn't quick enough.

She did manage to catch his eye, whereupon he gave a token curve of his lips. She recognized that distant smile well, having dealt with her share of business clients. Not unfriendly, but not interested in chit-chat, either.

Janey shrugged. At least the elevator guy was honestly antisocial. Unlike Vince. Vince was friendly and—she had thought—nice. And he'd seemed interested. He'd actually patted her hip in his company's break room. That had struck her as tacky, but it made her think at least it was worth a shot. Sadly, in retrospect Vince now seemed to be one of the sleazebags instead of the good guys.

The elevator rose slowly past one, two floors. The old downtown building had only twelve stories. She thought she'd better get her act together fast if she was going to face her clients, a group of lawyers who'd have zero tolerance for their hired caterers crying all over their fancy plastic dishware.

She stared down at her bags, not really seeing the supplies. How, how, how had she reached this advanced age in this state? Her hormones functioned perfectly well. Sure, she'd never felt any kind of raging, irresistible passion for anyone. But she did like guys. And guys liked her well enough as friends. But only a handful of them ever wanted to date her and never had she had a real boyfriend. Guys just weren't interested in her that way. It was some kind of law of the universe.

Except, she reminded herself ruefully, for the attached ones. Janey had had more than her share of invitations from taken men, but that was her idea of an insult, not an opportunity.

All her friends told her she was just too picky, or not sending out the right signals. Maybe it was true. But secretly she was sure she knew the reason. She was just too boring. Nice, decent, and attractive guys simply weren't wowed by size 12, un-suave girl-next-door types. They went for the exciting girls. Janey couldn't think of a single case where a guy chose somebody less happening then they were.

The elevator jerked and stopped suddenly and Janey stumbled. That halt had come with a stronger-than-normal impact. Startled, she checked the doors, then the buttons. They were between the fifth and sixth stories.

"Oh, no," she blurted.

"Fuck," the elevator's other occupant said simultaneously.

Janey was taken aback. The man ignored her, staring at the button panel. He let go of his briefcase, letting it drop to the floor, and stepped forward to read the instructions on the panel. A moment later he was pressing one of the floor buttons. Nothing. He pressed a red flat panel button. Static came on, then a male voice speaking over the intercom.

Speaking in a low, smooth, velvety voice—Janey could easily imagine it coming from a movie theater's sound system- her elevator companion traded information with the security staff member. The exchange was brief, clipped, polite. At one point Janey was asked if she had any medical conditions.

"No," she responded clearly.

"We're good," the man said and continued the discussion. A minute later, the static ceased and the intercom clicked off.

Janey observed the whole thing with fascination. Except for that initial expletive, the man had kept a lot calmer than she was managing to and was undeniably efficient.

"Did I just hear him say it might be hours?" Janey said.

The man had his phone in his hand. He glanced at her then as if in surprise that she was still there. Janey's hackles rose. Where did he think she'd gone, through the floor?

"Could be hours," the man said. "Probably more like one. We have electrical and connectivity, so it can't be that bad." He put his phone to his ear, waited a minute, and started talking into it.

"Well, that's not good," Janey muttered to herself. She crouched down and peered into one of the totes. There were no perishables, of course, but the clients would be short of dinnerware for their luncheon. She nibbled her lip, then reached for her own phone.

A few minutes later, she was reassured that her head assistant would take care of matters in her absence and make a special trip down to the van for the supplies Janey had been fetching. Janey had warned Leese to take the stairs just in case. With three staffers freely roaming, the boss getting stuck in an elevator was a minor inconvenience and shouldn't mean any disastrous delays. Now all she had to do was deal with being in a confined space for at least one hour with a stranger.

She glanced up at the ceiling and at the walls. It wasn't a tiny elevator, but it wasn't one of those huge deals either. The building was hardly a modern office tower.

"Are you claustrophobic?"

Janey looked at the man, startled to find him looking at her. He was leaning against the back of the elevator casually.

"Me?" she said. His eyebrows arched upward and she flushed, realizing what a ridiculous question that was. "Oh. Uh, no. I'm fine. Not claustrophobic. How about you?"

He shook his head and glanced back down at his phone. Naturally it was one of those jobs from which he could have his choice of watching videos, running an office, and planning world domination. Janey's phone was a reject from one of her friends from the era when phones were still more phone than computer.

She looked away politely. After about ten minutes, though, her gaze wandered back to him. He was still interacting with his mobile and ignoring her.

"I've never been stuck on an elevator before for longer than a couple of minutes," she blurted. "Have you?'