It was his laughter that first caught my attention. It was a little harsh, had a little bit of an edge to it as I came around the corner. The sound of it grated on my nerves. I winced as I heard it, wanting to turn and go the other way but I kept going, kept my head down.

"Mark, this is our newest writer. Come on over here Elizabeth I want you to meet someone."

I took a couple of more steps, wishing I'd been able to escape before I slowly turned to face Vince McMahon. I pasted a smile on my face and changed direction. I felt the stranger's green eyes quickly skim down my body and felt myself stiffen but there was nothing offensive in his gesture, nothing more than curiosity in the bright green gaze he turned on me. A smile still lingered on his lips, left over from his earlier laughter. I kept my smile firmly in place and turned away, looking at Mr. McMahon.

"Yes, sir?" I questioned.

Vince laughed casually, gesturing to the man standing with him. "This is one of our biggest draws. I want you to come up with a great storyline for him. He's been back for a little while." Vince paused, looking at Mark before he continued. "He took some time off for some personal things and to heal up some injuries but now he's back. We need a rock solid storyline to put him back in the hunt for the title. I want everyone talking about the Undertaker, I want his name on everyone's lips."

I watched as the Undertaker smiled, nodding slightly as Vince talked. Conceited oaf, I thought, trying to keep my thoughts to myself. I'd been around the business for a little while – working as a writer in the indy circuit for the last few years but this was my first week with the WWE. First and last, I thought with a smile, if I don't control my thoughts a little better. I doubt Vince would appreciate what I thought about his main attraction.

"So you agree Elizabeth?" Vince asked, a smile on his face, his eyes steady on me.

Startled I glanced up, getting caught in the laughing green eyes of the Undertaker. Damn him! It was almost as if he knew I'd been daydreaming, as if he knew I didn't particularly care for him and was enjoying my discomfort.

"Elizabeth?" There was an edge of impatience in Vince's voice now as he shifted impatiently beside me, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I hesitated, unsure where the conversation had moved onto while I'd been lost in thought. I flicked a hesitant look at Taker, frowning at him. Damn man. His smile widened.

"Do you agree Elizabeth?" Vince questioned, moving into my direct line of sight.

"I –um—well,– "

"We'll work the details out over lunch, right Beth?" Taker cut in smoothly, a smile curling his lips, green eyes laughing at me.

I bit my tongue, still unsure of exactly what I was agreeing to but not having a lot of choice with Vince McMahon staring at me. I simply nodded, agreeing to the only out I could see.

Vince smiled, rubbing his hands together. "Perfect, that's perfect. I knew I'd hired the right woman for the job. I just knew it!" Vince was almost cackling as he turned and walked away, turning to call over his shoulder, "You all go wherever you want for lunch. Turn it in on your expenses Mark. I'll take care of it." With a wave of his hand he disappeared around the corner.

Mark smiled, glancing at the woman standing in front of him. She was a tiny little thing. Not very tall, probably only a little over five feet even wearing those heels she had on. He shook his head, wondering how in the hell she walked in those things. He grinned – she'd been walking just fine when she'd thought she'd be able to walk right on by without speaking to him. She had on a tiny little short black skirt, showing her legs off to perfection. Short little legs. . . but damn nice. Loose red sweater, not too low cut but just low enough that hinted at what was there. Nice, very nice. His eyes slowly wandered back up to her face . . . past the long, dark blonde hair that trailed past her shoulders and up to the stormy blue eyes that would have dropped him where he stood if they could have. He sucked in a deep breath. What the hell was he doing? He was a married man.

I narrowed my eyes on him, wanting to get this over with. "So what did I just agree to?" I gritted out.

Mark took a step back, uneasy with the attraction he felt for her. He was married. Married. He kept repeating that to himself. He'd been doing that since he'd seen her a few weeks ago when she'd interview with Vince. Vince was looking for a new writer for his character and had heard about a writer on the Indy circuit that was unique, that had creative, original ideas. He'd done a little checking around, asked a few friends of his that still worked the Indy circuit and he'd heard nothing but good things about her. Well, he grinned, almost nothing but good things. She had a bit of an attitude. To put it bluntly – if you crossed her—bad shit happened to your character when you least expected it. Mark smiled. You could almost admire a woman who used the weapons at her disposal to hit you where it would hurt the most. Mark's smile faded slowly as it dawned on him . . .this was the woman that was going to be writing HIS character.

"Nothing much. So where would you like to eat?" he asked, turning to lead to way to the parking lot.