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

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to set the matter to rights, to question him about the unbreakable wall he had suddenly erected between us, but he shot me a glance that plainly stated my presence was no longer required. That this date of ours—or whatever the fuck it had been—had officially ended. His eyes narrowed, and I imagined that any second now, he would level me with a verbal assault if I didn’t vamoose lickety-split.


Well, I wasn’t about to be anyone’s whipping boy, and I had never been a one-night-stand who overstayed his welcome. Clenching my teeth before I said something I’d later regret, I got out of the Mountaineer. No sooner did I utter a curt “good-bye” and shut the door, he pulled away so fast his tires squealed on the pavement. With mouth agape, I watched his taillights shrink and fade into the distance, all the while wondering what the hell I had said or done to warrant such treatment.


Chapter 31