Project Director Zane Caldwell has a major problem -- a charming, go-getter hotshot from Chicago named Ford Trionni, recently hired at Widdley Finch Inc., a Connecticut-based marketing research company. The man, whom the secretarial pool nicknamed "The Italian Stallion" based on his stunning good looks and sexual aura, has also gained the reputation of a superstar in the industry due to his innovative analytical techniques. The trouble is, the man wears his accolades like a badge on his lapel, strutting around the office like a peacock.<br><br>Ford's self-centered, lofty attitude drives Zane to utter distraction. Even worse, the man seems to know it, intentionally using his sizzling sex appeal to tie Zane's patience and libido into knots while giving off mixed messages of mutual attraction. But from what Zane can tell, Ford's already involved in an intense relationship with someone else, and the last thing Zane wants is to fall for a guy who not only treats him like a peon instead of an equal, but intends to make him a side dish to his current love affair.<br><br>Yet as he works with Ford on an important account, Zane begins to realize there's more to Ford than the man lets on, and all may not be what it seems. As the heat between them builds into an inferno despite their contrary work relationship, Zane vows to get to the bottom of Ford's confusing behavior once and for all. Is the man playing games with Zane's job and his heart, or is there a chance they might actually discover they're the perfect partners?

And the Survey Says

When the meeting finally adjourned, Ford started to leave with the others. Before doing so, however, he paused at the doorway, turned, and gave me a final look. “Hey, Grabby, call my assistant and set up an appointment for later today so we can get started on the Brighton Breeze transfer.”


Both the nickname and the accompanying directive rankled. Of all the fucking nerve. The son of a bitch thought he could throw his weight around? Could dole out commands? Could treat me like a flunky instead of his equal? Oh, how I’d love to force him to his knees, stuff my solid eight inches between those smirking lips, and teach him who had seniority around here.


I gave him a sharp salute and clicked the heels of my loafers together. “Yes, General. Whatever you say, General.”


“Oh, sorry,” he said with an aura of false sincerity. “If you have time, that is.”


“Yeah, I have time, especially when it comes to our clients.”


Chapter 4