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 had to admit, though, this particular week could have been one hell of a lot worse were it not for my new lover, a man who understood the business and had suffered through similar anxiety. On Wednesday night, after I finished packing for my early flight to Minneapolis and started worrying whether I had answers for every conceivable question the clients might throw at me, Ford showed up at my door. He gave me a much-needed massage—the subsequent blowjob didn’t hurt either—and for at least an hour that night, I felt my troubles drift away. On Friday, once I returned from my victorious meeting, Ford and I spent the night in bed, and with a mind free of survey data, I could finally reciprocate in the way he deserved. Multiple times.


Still, despite being “fucked out,” I awoke on Saturday buzzing with energy. The lengthy shower and hardy breakfast didn’t calm me, either. Ford just laughed at my nervousness.


Chapter 51