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

But as three o’clock loomed ever closer, I couldn’t stop thinking of the man more and more. One side of my brain seemed to take great delight in conjuring up devilish sexual fantasies to torment me, while the other side of my brain, like a Puritan minister, harshly chastised its counterpart and tried to remain resolute and unperturbed. Unfortunately, the naughtiness won out.


And wouldn’t you just know it? At two fifty-five, just when I thought I had time enough to pull myself together before the appointed hour, I heard Ford’s voice outside the door. On Friday, his tardiness had pissed me off, and I had fully suspected he would pull the same crap on me today. But now, his early bird promptness ticked me off even more, because now I sat behind my desk with an erection that simply refused to subside.


To relieve the unbearable pressure, I stood, reached into my slacks and briefs, and rearranged my junk just as the intercom buzzed.


Chapter 16