“Harmless as in total loser or harmless as in ‘Gee, Officer, he seemed like a nice normal neighbor until he hacked up those fourteen women’?”
Frannie paused with the Styrofoam cup halfway to her lips. “Harmless as in just kind of confused. He thinks he loves me. Once his infatuation wears off, he’ll get over it and move on. This man is smokin’ hot. I’m talking downright pulse-pounding yumminess. No way will he stick around for long. He’s one of the A-list, you know? And not only is he good-looking, he owns Buddies’ Toys. Totally out of my league.”
Understanding, Tracey nodded while licking the foam off her fingers. Several times the two had discussed how normal women never got the Adonises of the world. Frannie welcomed these little girly gab sessions tucked into a busy workday. Today, there’d been no time for a formal lunch break so they shared coffees and gossip at Tracey’s desk.
“So lemme get this straight. He’s good-looking, rich, charming and he’s infatuated with you? You so gotta nail that bad boy before he gets away.”
“Nail him?”
Tracey leaned back in her swivel chair and toyed with her chunky necklace, a mischievous tilt to her lips. “You know, get a little booty. Seriously, milk this. Let him wine and dine you, grab some bling and a few multiple orgasms before he bails.”
Frannie’s eyes snapped to her. “I agreed to start dating him and see where it leads, even though it’s headed down a dead-end road. But it sounds so selfish when you put it like that. So cold and mercenary.”
Tracey shrugged. “All’s fair in love and sex.”
“This is not love. Love has absolutely nothing in it. This is pure sexual attraction.”
“Good.” Tracey bobbed her brightly colored head once. “Just make sure it stays that way. Sex is one thing but don’t go risking your heart on some centerfold wannabe. That’d be disaster with a flaming capital Ass.”
That troubling thought brewed in Frannie’s brain as she went to her office. A strange guttural noise drew her attention to the partially opened door between her office and Steve’s. The noise continued, piquing her curiosity.
As the head of the department, Steve had an office much larger than hers with its own private bath and sitting area. Frannie started to call his name when a foul odor wrinkled her nose. Steve was being violently ill in the bathroom, his retching audible even through the bathroom’s closed door.
“Steve?” She rapped softly on the wood. “Are you okay?”
The door opened and she gasped. The usually fastidious man had removed his jacket and tie. His shirt was untucked and his belt unbuckled. He was sweating and a shocking green tint overshadowed his normally ski-tanned skin.
“My gut feels like Old Faithful. Spewing disgusting liquid with annoying regularity.” Even his voice was scratchy and gruff.
“What’s wrong?” Biting her lip with worry, Frannie grabbed his arm and helped him to the long leather couch beside the window. He groaned and sank into the cushions, covering his eyes with one arm.
“Take my advice, Fran. Never ever eat leftover sushi for breakfast.”
As if eating fishing bait wasn’t bad enough, he ate leftover bait? Eww!
“You need to go home.”
“I will. As soon as I can stop puking long enough to drive.” He started to say more but squeezed his lips tight, jumped up and ran back to the bathroom.
Tracey came to his doorway and sniffed the air loudly. Her lips curled in disgust, she whirled around and walked out.
Frannie took matters into her own hands, pulled up Steve’s itinerary on his computer and rescheduled what she could. By the time the toilet flushed and the bathroom door reopened, she had cleared his entire day. She picked up the few notes she’d made and peered into the tiled room. Steve stood bent over the sink, his forehead pressed to the cool tile.
“I’m going to die.”
“No, you just feel like it. We need to call you a cab and get you
Frannie paused with the Styrofoam cup halfway to her lips. “Harmless as in just kind of confused. He thinks he loves me. Once his infatuation wears off, he’ll get over it and move on. This man is smokin’ hot. I’m talking downright pulse-pounding yumminess. No way will he stick around for long. He’s one of the A-list, you know? And not only is he good-looking, he owns Buddies’ Toys. Totally out of my league.”
Understanding, Tracey nodded while licking the foam off her fingers. Several times the two had discussed how normal women never got the Adonises of the world. Frannie welcomed these little girly gab sessions tucked into a busy workday. Today, there’d been no time for a formal lunch break so they shared coffees and gossip at Tracey’s desk.
“So lemme get this straight. He’s good-looking, rich, charming and he’s infatuated with you? You so gotta nail that bad boy before he gets away.”
“Nail him?”
Tracey leaned back in her swivel chair and toyed with her chunky necklace, a mischievous tilt to her lips. “You know, get a little booty. Seriously, milk this. Let him wine and dine you, grab some bling and a few multiple orgasms before he bails.”
Frannie’s eyes snapped to her. “I agreed to start dating him and see where it leads, even though it’s headed down a dead-end road. But it sounds so selfish when you put it like that. So cold and mercenary.”
Tracey shrugged. “All’s fair in love and sex.”
“This is not love. Love has absolutely nothing in it. This is pure sexual attraction.”
“Good.” Tracey bobbed her brightly colored head once. “Just make sure it stays that way. Sex is one thing but don’t go risking your heart on some centerfold wannabe. That’d be disaster with a flaming capital Ass.”
That troubling thought brewed in Frannie’s brain as she went to her office. A strange guttural noise drew her attention to the partially opened door between her office and Steve’s. The noise continued, piquing her curiosity.
As the head of the department, Steve had an office much larger than hers with its own private bath and sitting area. Frannie started to call his name when a foul odor wrinkled her nose. Steve was being violently ill in the bathroom, his retching audible even through the bathroom’s closed door.
“Steve?” She rapped softly on the wood. “Are you okay?”
The door opened and she gasped. The usually fastidious man had removed his jacket and tie. His shirt was untucked and his belt unbuckled. He was sweating and a shocking green tint overshadowed his normally ski-tanned skin.
“My gut feels like Old Faithful. Spewing disgusting liquid with annoying regularity.” Even his voice was scratchy and gruff.
“What’s wrong?” Biting her lip with worry, Frannie grabbed his arm and helped him to the long leather couch beside the window. He groaned and sank into the cushions, covering his eyes with one arm.
“Take my advice, Fran. Never ever eat leftover sushi for breakfast.”
As if eating fishing bait wasn’t bad enough, he ate leftover bait? Eww!
“You need to go home.”
“I will. As soon as I can stop puking long enough to drive.” He started to say more but squeezed his lips tight, jumped up and ran back to the bathroom.
Tracey came to his doorway and sniffed the air loudly. Her lips curled in disgust, she whirled around and walked out.
Frannie took matters into her own hands, pulled up Steve’s itinerary on his computer and rescheduled what she could. By the time the toilet flushed and the bathroom door reopened, she had cleared his entire day. She picked up the few notes she’d made and peered into the tiled room. Steve stood bent over the sink, his forehead pressed to the cool tile.
“I’m going to die.”
“No, you just feel like it. We need to call you a cab and get you
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