Husband Wanted: Will Train (Chapter Two - It's Me or the French Chef, page 2 of 18)

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"Hi," she said brightly. "You must be Paul, Mason's friend." She waved him in. "Mason went out to get some last-minute supplies, but he'll be right back. Come on in. I'm just in the middle of taking some measurements of my living room."

Caught off guard, it took a moment for Ross to take in what she'd said.

"No, actually..." he started, trying to correct her, let her know he wasn't this Paul person, but she wasn't listening. She'd already gone on to another subject.

"Could you hold this for me for a minute?" she asked, handing him the end of the tape measure. "Put it right here on the jamb. I'm trying to get accurate room dimensions." She watched as he did what she'd asked, nodded approvingly and began to pull out the tape, backing toward the far wall.

"Okay, let me stretch it out. I'm doing some fast remodeling-or at least I'm hoping to do some. As usual, I've waited until the last minute, so it's probably too late."

She took her end of the tape measure to the windows at the opposite side of the apartment living room, measuring the width of the room.

"Fourteen feet, six inches. Wouldn't you know it? Nothing is ever standard around here." She wrote down the figure in a notebook, and Ross watched, a bit bemused.

She wasn't quite what he'd expected. The dealings he'd had with her, though indirect, had made him picture her as cold, professional and extremely calculating-an icy, mature woman with absolutely no sex appeal. The Charity Ames on the telephone earlier that day had seemed a bit more scatterbrained, a little helpless, uncertain, and the two images hadn't gibed. Now he saw something completely different from either of those pictures.

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