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meant dressy dress,” she said a little testily. “I’m not sure I have anything ….”

Realizing that she was wavering, Paul pressed the issue. “It’s nothing fancy or formal. Wear what you have on.”

Anna looked down at herself doubtfully, discovering she was ‘wearing’ soil from the greenhouse. There was a stained patch on one knee of her jeans, as well, from putting her knee down on one of her franken-veggies. “I can do a little better than this,” she said tartly.

“Great! I’m going home to change myself. I’ll pick you up in … about an hour?”

Anna stared at him, trying to recall if she’d actually said she would go or not and finally nodded. She frowned when he left, feeling an odd mixture of reluctance and anticipation.

It occurred to her forcefully when she reached the kitchen and settled to flipping through her recipe book in search of a concoction that might work with her latest harvest, that Paul actually seemed interested in her … as a woman. The thought was radical enough it completely distracted her from her search for the perfect recipe.

Lifting her head, she thought it over, wondering if she could realistically consider his invitation in the nature of a date. He’d said it was some sort of group meeting, though, and try as she might she couldn’t envision any kind of meeting as date-like, even if they were serving refreshments.

Of course, it had been a long time since she’d actually had a date. She frowned, trying to decide just how long, but finally gave it up as unimportant. She didn’t think it had been long enough that dating could’ve changed radically—not since college, and she’d left college …?

Well! There was no getting around the fact that she was definitely out of the dating loop! She was pretty sure it had been at least two years since she’d gotten her doctorate in genetics ….

Her stomach growled, reminding her that there’d been the offer of food. She studied the fruit she’d dropped on the counter and finally set the recipe book down.

Gathering up her ‘harvest’, she put it in the cooling unit and headed into her room to bathe and dress for her ‘whatever’—date slash dinner slash meeting.

At least she’d get fed. If there was any romance … well, Paul was sort of cute and it had been a very, very long time!

Chapter Two

Anna felt her self-confidence melt away like mist before sunshine as she stared—gawked—at the mansion Paul stopped in front of. It flickered through her mind that this couldn’t be the right place, but it was hard to ignore the fact that music and many voices were drifting to her, that it was lit up like there were no restrictions on power consumption, and there were already a number of water taxis lined up at the dock.

“This is the place?” she asked Paul uneasily.

“This is it. The head of the organization—Miles Cavendish—decided to throw a welcome party for all of the new recruits.”

Anna blinked at him, feeling an uncomfortable jolt at the word ‘recruits’.

“Recruits?”

Paul smiled with obvious effort, leaping out to tie up the line of his sleek boat.

“New members. Ready?”

Not really! All she wanted to do was rush back to her tiny little home and bar the doors. This was socializing on steroids! She’d thought she was just going to be with a small group. She tried to remember if Paul had said anything to indicate he was talking about a massive social function, but she couldn’t remember that he’d actually said anything at all.

She’d just assumed, since he was her assistant, that he was as anti-social as she was and had expected a small, awkward group of academics. “I don’t know about this,”

she said uneasily, staring down in dismay at the cocktail dress she’d put on. She’d felt downright sexy—well almost attractive—when she’d looked herself over in the mirror.

It still fit, even though the dress was at least five years old. She’d only worn it once, though, and it looked as new as the day she’d bought it.

Paul’s smile was slightly strained. “Come on! We’re here now. You aren’t going to back out on me?”

Put that way, it made her feel more uncomfortable. She didn’t protest when he reached for her hand and helped her out of the boat. She was still trying to decide a tactful way to back out or possibly an alternative ‘date’. “I don’t know anybody ….”

“You know me,” he said cheerfully, tucking her cold hand into the crook of his arm and guiding her toward the entrance.

Not really, she thought unhappily. True, he’d been her assistant almost a month, but she certainly hadn’t known he rubbed elbows with people like this! She hadn’t known he could afford a transport like the one he’d arrived in. She was beginning to think nothing she’d assumed about him was correct.

Her patron had sent him, though, she reminded herself. That was why she hadn’t actually checked him out, although, truthfully, she hadn’t checked out her last assistant either and she’d hired Kelly herself.

That had turned out badly, but who would’ve thought somebody would fake credentials just to get a job?

They were greeted at the door by a servant who was wearing a formal suit that looked more expensive than her house! Before she could turn tail and run, Paul had dragged her inside. She glanced back at the closing door a little forlornly as he marched her across the huge, crowded main salon of the mansion, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sense that everyone in the room was staring at her.

“Mr. Cavendish—I’d like to introduce you to

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