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

Still, in my calmer moments, I couldn’t help but recall the heated glances and the hot kisses we’d shared, or the medley of light and tender caresses, the spirited and frantic strokes, we had applied to each other’s stiff cocks. I often closed my eyes during those moments, allowing the scent of him, the taste of him, to return to memory. I soon likened the man to my nicotine habit—now that I’d sampled him, I craved even more. Yes, despite the way our evening had ended, I still ached to take him into my bed, to feast on every inch of him and maybe, just maybe, see if I could resurrect the “new Ford,” the one who had momentarily emerged to electrify me before things went awry. If I could just probe deeper into his psyche, then maybe I could discover the reason for his abrupt about-face, and maybe we could resume our relationship from the point where we’d left off before things went so wrong so fast.


Chapter 32