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

“Impressive,” he whispered. “Very impressive.”


I had to admit, he looked goddamned sexy in his slate-gray suit, with a form-fitting cranberry-colored shirt and black-and-white striped tie, but his insufferable smirk ruined the effect for me. Still, before he turned his face toward the blue tile wall, his moist lips caught my attention, and I tried to fathom what he had meant by his words. Could it be what I thought?


My gaze shifted downward and to the left, stealthily, almost as if my eyes had been conditioned to do so from all the years I’d spent frequenting gay bars and checking out cocks of potential lovers in restrooms. And what I saw now was one hell of a beautiful penis. The nickname Italian Stallion seemed quite apt, I decided, as I studied the fat, uncut dick he held in his hands. Similar to mine, and about the same length. And just the kind of cock I loved to suck.


I refocused my attention on the wall. “Excuse me? What did you say?”


Chapter 14