She was so nervous, she was about to cry, and I wondered if I could even get her onto the plane. And if I did, I was afraid she’d freak out mid-flig...t. I considered turning around and taking her back home, or to the office, but I had no idea how that would affect her. It was a tough decision. She had packed her bag and had been waiting on the porch when I’d half expected her to have been hiding behind a locked door.Really, all I could do was take things one step at a time. I had to get her to. Her legs werecovered by a navy blue skirt and pantyhose and black high heels crownedher feet. Those blue eyes looked at me and seemed to be inspecting myphysical appearance which frightened me, but somewhere gave me falsehope about the relationship I fantasized about. "Devin Marx, yes?" she asked, her thick, Russian accent hanging in theair. "Yes." I replied, trying to offer a friendly smile with my answer."Mr. Marx, I am Natasha Broycovich and I am here to tell you have beenchosen for. More

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