Page 1 of This is a Kissing Book

1

JULES

My life is currently on a tangent. This isn’t where I expected to be. Yet here I am.

Seated at my desk, I pop a Lindt chocolate truffle (the one with the crinkly wrapper) into my mouth just as the phone rings—because of course it does. The chocolate shell cracks between my teeth as I fumble for the receiver and I answer with my mouth still half-full.

“Cowections Pwocessin—” I swallow, nearly choking. “Meridian Holdings Collections Processing Department, this is Juliana. How may I help you?”

The line is quiet and then a deep, rough-around-the-edges voice says, “Is this Frank Andresen’s office?” It’s the kind of baritone that shouldn’t be street legal on a Friday afternoon when I’m already dreaming about the weekend.

I clear my throat, still tasting hazelnut. “Not even close. But you sound desperate, so I’ll help you, anyway.”

“Desperate?” Amusement warms his tone like a beach bonfire. “That obvious?”

“You have that ‘I’ve been transferred three times and might commit violence’ quality to your voice.”

He laughs, and the sound is warm caramel dripping down my spine—completely inappropriate for a professional phone call.

He says, “Three times, actually. But who’s counting?”

I twirl the phone cord around my finger, then catch myself. What am I, thirteen, on my first phone call with a boy? For all I know, this guy could be my boss’s age, married, or a troll. “Well, you’ve reached Collections Processing on the thirty-third floor. Frank Andresen’s office is seven floors up and literally above my pay grade.”

“Sounds about right,” he mutters.

I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused. Maybe both. “What do you need? Maybe I can point you in the right direction before you hit transfer number four.”

Another pause, longer this time. Maybe he hung up? I pout and am about to do the same, but pop another chocolate into my mouth. This week has been long.

He huffs a heavy breath. “I’m trying to reach him about a personal matter.”

“Ah. The ‘it’s personal’ call. Always a pleasure.”

“You sound like you’re familiar with those,” he says, picking up on my sarcasm.

“You have no idea. My boss is—” I stop myself. “Never mind. Not your problem.”

“No, go ahead. Now, I’m curious.”

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking to me like I’m a person instead of a robot on a phone line makes me throw caution to the wind.

“My boss has been particularly,” I search for a word that won’t get me fired if this call is recorded for quality assurance, “efficient lately.”

“Efficient?” He sounds like he’s smiling. “That’s diplomatic.”

“I’m a very diplomatic person.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

I help myself to another chocolate when his comment boomerangs. “Excuse me?”

“What are you eating? I heard the wrapper. Sounds like something crunchy.”

My cheeks flush hot like I’ve been caught. “I got in early today and have been staring at a screen for hours. I’m all out of coffee, so I switched to chocolate.”

“What kind?”

“Does it matter?”