Chapter 2

Walter tapped a pen on the table, drawing everyone’s attention to his burly frame. With his full head of snow-white hair and a mustache and beard equally as stark, the man could have easily subbed for Santa Claus during the holiday season. He certainly had the jolly disposition to match. “Before we begin discussing our accounts today, I wanted to formerly introduce everyone to Ford Trionni, our latest addition to the department.”

Mr. Tummy Troubles lifted a hand. “Hello, all.”

Words of acknowledgement and welcome poured from the dozen or so people at the table. I said nothing.

Walter continued. “Ford will be taking over some of Jackie’s accounts because her maternity leave, as you all know by now, has been extended indefinitely. I can’t say I’m surprised. Triplets are one hellof an addition to a family.”

Several men whistled or chuckled. Some of the women physically squirmed as if imagining the true hell Jackie must have gone through during the birthing process, not to mention the dirty diapers, the endless feedings, and the countless sleepless nights she faced in the future.

“Anyway,” said Walter, “I brought in Ford partly due to his extensive knowledge of Brighton Breeze Fruit Drinks and their older advertising campaigns. As some of you probably know, he worked at World Market Trends for years, almost exclusively on the Brighton Breeze account—”

“Before Jackie snatched them away as a client,” I said. “For us.”

Several project directors snickered, while Walter patted his bulging belly and beamed in no small amount of pride. Ford Trionni, to my satisfaction, turned red in the cheeks.

He recovered quickly, however, then gestured nonchalantly. “Yeah, yeah, win some, lose some.” He glanced at me, then at the whole-wheat bagel. The smug bastard!“That’s all part of the game in this crazy business, right?”

“Right!” Walter continued to beam. “But glad there’s no hard feelings, Ford. And I’m especially glad you decided to join us here at Widdley Finch Incorporated, where your talents will be put to good use, no doubt. Ford has had experience working on many other high-profile accounts that will likely aid us here at WFI in the future, but he can tell you all about his impressive background at another time.”

No need, I mused, taking a bite of the savory cinnamon and raisin bagel before drawing a sip of steaming coffee. Ever since the supposedly brilliant Ford Trionni got hired to replace Jackie, the office had been abuzz regarding the man’s career and accomplishments. And that buzzing had gained almost fevered momentum once he stepped through the doors at the beginning of the week and the secretarial pool had gotten a good look at him. Well, who could blame the water-cooler denizens, really, especially with such great fodder to discuss? The six-foot-two package of muscle and sinew looked like an Italian movie star, with his gleaming dark hair and sideburns, black-brown eyes, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow that darkened the olive-toned skin around those lips. Those juicy lips…

Regardless, the man was about the sexiest creature I had ever encountered in all of my thirty-two years. Like the secretaries, I also felt my stomach cramping and my knees shaking whenever I caught a glimpse of him, and I had done my damnedest to find out as much as I could about him. Although I hated to admit it, I wasn’t beneath doing a bit of casual eavesdropping whenever I heard his name being mentioned.

Ford Trionni’s personal life remained cloaked in mystery, apart from the fact that he had just turned thirty, wasn’t married, and had moved here to Connecticut from Illinois the previous week. At least that was the office gossip that had spread like wildfire, eagerly conveyed to me by my administrative assistant.

Details regarding the man’s professional life, however, were easier to unearth. Supposedly, while employed at World Market Trends in Chicago, Ford was considered the “wonder kid,” a true up-and-comer in the marketing research industry. His analytical skills and innovative campaign suggestions for some of America’s top manufacturers had been praised in publications such as Advertising Ageand at numerous conventions.

And the cocky bastard seemed to wear his accolades like a badge on his lapel. He strutted around the office like a peacock with his head held high and seemed perfectly content basking in his own splendor. Pride I could easily tolerate; arrogance I could not.

But the worst part of it was, I hated myself for being so attracted to him. Never before had any guy with his cocky attitude or snobbish bearing drawn or held my attention. So why now? Simply put, I couldn’t ignore the guy’s looks. Damn it to hell, Ford Trionni was just the type of tall, dark, and handsome I had always craved in my bed. And I wanted him in the worst way. Wanted to savor every inch of him. Wanted to slide under the table even now, fish out his dick, and suck the jizz from his balls. Wanted to bend him over the conference table and ram his shapely ass until I exploded in a surge of pure ecstasy and—

“Zane? Are you with us?” asked Walter amidst several giggles.