Something in the Coffee

Something in the Coffee Rose Maybud

Blush sensuality level: This is a sensual romance (may have explicit love scenes, but not erotic in frequency or type).

Eileen knows her fiancé, Alex, is always feeling sorry for the downtrodden assistants at their law firm—and she’s worried that he cares more about them than he does about her. But when Alex plans to spike the office coffeepot with a potion that will make everyone nicer to each other, should Eileen play the supportive future spouse, or tell him he’s gone too far? Eileen is convinced that no amount of hocus-pocus could make senior law partners Ann and Duke stop their noisy quarrels. Or change the way sexy, ambitious executive assistant Zoe thinks about laid-back Kevin, the IT guy. Or help timid Connie get a date with her boss, Roger, who’s too shy to admit he’s attracted to her. Then the potion actually works…much too well!

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Something in the Coffee ISBN 9781419933974 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Something in the Coffee Copyright © 2011 Rose Maybud Edited by Helen Woodall Cover art by Syneca Electronic book publication May 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

SOMETHING IN THE COFFEE Rose Maybud

Acknowledgements It is a pleasure and a privilege to say thank you to the people who have supported and encouraged me as I worked on this book. There are more of you than I can possibly name here, but I hope you will know that I appreciate you all. My heartfelt thanks to the ladies of the MR-Debuts group for their advice, insights and friendship over the years. You guys are the greatest. And I’d like to add a tip of the chapeau to Donna MacMeans for bringing us all together. Oodles of gratitude to Lisa Cooke, Susan Gee Heino and Pat Shaw for reading and commenting on Coffee as it went through its many stages of development. I am so grateful to my editor, Helen Woodall, for her patient guidance and assistance, and to everyone at ECPI for their support. Finally, a big, warm thank you to my loving husband for being my rock and my refuge through everything in life.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Daytona 500: International Speedway Corporation Dodge Charger: DaimlerChrysler Corporation Superman: DC Comics Time Warner Entertainment Company, L.P. and E.C. Publications, Inc. Partnership True Confessions: Dorchester Media, LLC X-Files: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation

Rose Maybud

Chapter One They were at it again. Angry treble shrieks and furious bass bellows bounced off the dark wood-paneled walls and pinged against the Chippendale-style reception desk before disappearing into the plush pile of the lobby’s Persian rug. Alex Poindextre stopped just inside the law firm’s front door and sighed. At least there weren’t any clients around yet. He still had time to do his peacemaking thing. He straightened his tie, the red silk one that Eileen had given him. First things first. He needed coffee before dealing with the two combatants. Part stimulant, part social lubricant, and occasional meal replacement, coffee was the beverage of choice for the staff and attorneys at Sangazure and Poindextre, LLP. A brief flirtation with green tea, championed by Alex himself in an effort to promote the health of his coworkers, was quickly dropped after a near-mutiny by caffeine-deprived personnel. A pity it never caught on, although he had to admit he thought more clearly after his morning cup of joe. He strode across the muted reds and golds of the rug, heading for the paneled hallway that led to the kitchen area. In the small kitchen, a woman in a lime green sweater stopped wiping down the counter long enough to send him a friendly smile. Zoe Partlett, Marmaduke Poindextre’s executive assistant. Most of the other lawyers never bothered to learn the names of the support staff. A tactical error on their parts. Human resources experts agreed that employees were happier and more productive when treated as if deserving of equal respect. To prove his point, Alex smiled back. Zoe blinked and her smile broadened. Then she bent her head and scrubbed hard at a stain on the counter. There. Just a hint of camaraderie and the employee demonstrated a willingness to do even the simplest task to the best of her ability. He poured himself a cup of coffee and smiled again at the administrative assistant. “So, Zoe. How’s Uncle Duke treating you?” She straightened up and ran both hands down the sides of her brown skirt. “Fine. It’s so nice of you to ask, Alex. Aren’t you working on one of your uncle’s cases right now? So in a way, I guess we’re working together—” Her comment was cut off as Justin Pender, the firm’s star litigator, elbowed his way in front of her. He grabbed the coffeepot, sloshing the black brew into a disposable cup. After downing a swallow, the other attorney flung a cosmetically enhanced smile at Alex. “Morning, Poindextre.”

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Something in the Coffee

Alex nodded curtly. Among the male attorneys in the firm, Pender was known as The Face. Tall, athletically fit, with smooth dark hair and gray eyes set under eyebrows that quirked upward in the middle, Pender used his carefully tended good looks on juries and women and usually got what he wanted. Zoe beamed at The Face. “Good morning, Mr. Pender. How have you—” Pender never noticed her hovering hopefully behind him. Caffeine acquired, he turned on his heel and charged toward the door. Alex winced as he watched them collide. Coffee splashed out of the cup and onto the green sweater. She yelped. “Watch out, damn it,” the litigator growled. She stepped back, wobbling as she tried to balance on a pair of brown high heels. Pender dodged around her and disappeared down the hall without a backward glance. Alex caught her just before she fell. “You okay? Asshole practically knocked you on your butt.” Zoe bit her lip as she brushed at the coffee stain. “Guess he was in a hurry.” He shook his head. “That’s no excuse.” This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed someone mistreating a coworker. The lawyers were the worst, but not the only ones. The offenses ranged from the smallest discourtesy to blatant rudeness. A new partner loading his assistant down with extra work and going off to play golf. Paralegals refusing to share important case information with administrative assistants, and then blaming the assistants when deadlines were missed. Employees of all ranks verbally abusing the tech support people. The ill-will was spreading throughout the office, and he was damn sick and tired of it. “I’ll have a talk with him.” Zoe caught his arm, her cheeks pink. “No, don’t. I mean, what’s the use? He just didn’t see me.” He stared at her. “How could he not see you? He saw me.” “Well, yeah.” She tilted her head to one side. “You’re a lawyer.” That sucked. Alex put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick, impersonal squeeze. “Feeling better?” Ann and Uncle Duke weren’t going to like this. They had strong opinions about prima donna lawyers in their firm. That was to say, their opinion was that Sangazure and Poindextre already had the full complement of prima donna lawyers, namely, the two of them. He smiled at her. “Don’t worry. He won’t get away with it.” She still looked upset, so he hugged her again. “Who won’t get away with it?” A tall, cool blonde stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing a charcoal gray suit that skimmed her elegant curves. Her arms were folded tightly across her breasts, and her finely drawn face wore an expression that could have frozen nitrogen.

7

Rose Maybud

Alex’s arm was still draped around Zoe’s shoulders. He removed it. “Morning, honey. That damn Pender practically knocked Zoe here on her ass, spilled coffee all over her. Then he acted like it was her fault.” Eileen Sangazure’s expression didn’t warm up. Not even by one degree. “Oh really?” Zoe said quickly, “It was no big deal. I was just telling— Um, gotta go clean this off. Oh, and congratulations on your engagement, you two.” She disappeared while Alex was still working out what to say. He studied his fiancée’s face. She looked a lot like her mother. They had the same clear blue eyes and determined jaw line. But Eileen’s eyes usually had a soft sparkle, while her mother Ann’s eyes glinted with the light of battle. Eileen sparkled most when she was relaxing in the kitchen, kneading dough for bread or swirling whipped cream on a pastry. Ann’s glow came from years of fighting for the equal rights of women in the workplace. And when Ann Sangazure hadn’t been battling in court, she’d been battling in the office with her long-time law partner, Marmaduke Poindextre. How ironic that in this instance Ann would have seen the unfairness of this situation, whereas her daughter didn’t. “Honey, some of the lawyers in this firm treat the administrative assistants like dirt,” he explained. Eileen stalked into the kitchen, the low heels of her conservative pumps clicking sharply on the floor. “That’s not true.” “What do you mean? Of course it’s true. Pender just ran right over Zoe like she wasn’t even there.” “It’s not some of the lawyers. It’s all of them.” Eileen’s lip curled. “Yesterday, Jenkins in Trusts made his admin assistant cry. Miranda told me the assistant worked all weekend developing a new spreadsheet to keep track of client’s assets, and instead of being grateful he ripped her a new one. Said she’d wasted her time on that project, when he wanted her to work on something else.” Alex flung his arms wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m talking about—about basic dignity, treating every person with respect. There are too many people around here sucking up to some people, and trampling on others. It’s making this a hell of a place to work.” Eileen poured herself a cup of coffee, all her attention on the dark liquid flowing into the cup. “So your plan is to hug every attractive secretary who gets her dignity bruised? Sounds like you’ll be busy. You hardly have enough time to hug me these days.” “Oh, come on, Eileen. That didn’t mean anything. What matters is S&P. I care about this firm. Damn it, at the very least I want there to still be a firm when—or if— I’m finally made partner.”

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Something in the Coffee

She jammed the pot back onto the warming plate. “Of course they will make you partner. For god’s sake, you’re Duke’s nephew. But it’s not going to happen now— you’re only a third-year associate. I didn’t even make partner until after my sixth year.” “But if I were a partner now, I could take a hand in the management of the firm, too. And something’s gotta change. Morale is low. People’s attitudes need adjustment, or this firm isn’t going to last much longer.” Eileen looked at him. “You can’t change people. They are what they are.” He shook his head. “I could. I could make them see—but I need to speak from a position of authority. If I were partner, everything would be different. Damn it, I’m going to make things different.” “So is that your excuse for slaving away every night, breaking our dates—” “That was only one time,” Alex countered. “And it was absolutely critical to get that motion filed.” “And falling asleep on me when you do come over.” “I can’t help that,” he muttered. She glared at him, eyes narrowed. He frowned back. Things sure as hell needed to be fixed around here. He could see the problem, and he was ready to take action to find a solution. Why couldn’t she understand? Still, he loved her. Even when she was scowling at him, she looked cute. Her arms were folded tight against her body, framing the gentle swell of her breasts under her suit coat. One narrow foot was tapping against the ground. He sighed. “What can I do?” It was the right thing to say. She stepped close to him, wrapped one arm around his neck. Her other hand fingered his tie. “Be with me,” she murmured. “Come on, let’s get out of here and spend some time together.” “Right now? I’ve got a ton of stuff—” She let him go, dropping back into deep-freeze mode. Reflexively, he reached out to her. “How about lunch? Let’s, you know, do lunch.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and was relieved to see that special warm light in her eyes. Good. They could spend some time together over a nice lunch, and he could make her understand that he was dealing with some serious issues here. And damn it, he was going to make partner, and he was going to make S&P a great place to work. Great for every employee. He had a vision. Eileen’s perfect oval face was lit by happiness. Alex felt his own spirits lift as well. “Oh, I know just where we can go,” she said, clapping her hands. She flashed him a coy smile and danced to the door. “See ya. Got some reservations to make.” He grinned as Eileen sashayed out. Maybe everything would work out all right after all.

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Rose Maybud

Down the hall, the argument was still raging. Alex threw his briefcase on his desk and smiled at his secretary, Debbie Ann Jennett. Her sweet, grandmotherly face shone with welcome. “Good morning to you, Alex. Here’s the birthday list for today, and some cards for you to sign.” “Thanks, Debbie Ann.” He placed the cards in the top tier of her three-level In box and quickly signed his name, stuffed them in the envelopes, then tucked them into his breast pocket. He nodded in the direction of the noise. “What’s the problem this time?” “No idea. But could you—would you—” Debbie Ann waved a hand helplessly. He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” “Thank goodness. It’s just so upsetting.” The whole situation in the office was toxic. Good word—toxic. It fit perfectly, describing the slow poisoning of the law firm’s atmosphere caused by the unpleasant way people dealt with one another around here. Toxic. The two name partners fighting all the time, arguing over everything from caseloads to lunch orders. Everyone looking out for their own interests. Alex shook his head. Something had to change. He strode down the hall. He could do this—he was meant to make this a better place to work, and he wasn’t going to wait around for four more years watching the place fall apart around him. In four more years, there might not be a firm worth saving. He was still contemplating ways and means for improving office morale as he came to a stop in the doorway of his uncle’s office. Marmaduke Poindextre possessed a fine corner office, with large plate glass windows overlooking the confluence of the two rivers that met at the center of Columbus. The morning sky outside was filled with tumbling gray clouds the same color as the concrete rooftops that marched along the riverbanks. In the far distance, swaths of green marked the cornfields that had not yet been given over to suburban developments. In the spacious office, a big, burly man in a well-tailored suit glared at a slender woman in flat shoes and a businesslike blazer and skirt. She glared back. “Don’t even think about it, Duke,” the woman yelled. “I’ll have your nuts on a platter before you could file the paperwork.” Ann Sangazure made a scary-looking gesture in the general direction of her partner’s nuts. He didn’t even blink. His angry growl sounded like rocks being ground into gravel. “I’m senior partner, Ann, and if it weren’t for my deep-pocket clients your sweet ass would be out on the street. You do too much pro-bono work. My name belongs first—Poindextre and Sangazure.” “Like hell it does! This law firm was mine to begin with. I’m senior partner. It’s Sangazure and Poindextre, you prick, and always will be.” 10

Something in the Coffee

The two moved closer together. Duke loomed over Ann, his face a fraction of an inch from hers. His hands were fisted tight by his thighs, and his shoulder muscles bulged under his snowy white dress shirt as if it took every ounce of his self-control not to reach out and grab her. His nostrils flared and his eyes blazed, like a bull getting ready to charge. Ann held her ground, her chin jutting forward and her shoulders defiantly back. Her breath was coming fast, Alex could tell from the way the bosom of her plain Oxford-cut blouse rose and fell. Her face was flushed and her eyes glittered as she faced off with her partner. Alex leaned against the doorjamb. “Morning, Ann. Morning, Duke. Can I interest either of you in a cup of coffee?” They jerked around at the sound of his voice. Both of them looked as self-conscious as if he’d surprised them in a kiss. They stepped apart. “Ah! Yes. Coffee, by all means,” said Marmaduke Poindextre, powerhouse attorney and longtime defender of the environment. He rubbed his hands together. “Where would we be without it? Law firms practically run on coffee.” Both of them could turn on a dime, from blind rage to casual chitchat in a split second. And they were always so polite to everyone except each other. “It’s bad for you, Duke,” commented his law partner. “You should switch to tea.” “Bah! You drink it too,” Poindextre said. “You had a cup with the Wilkinson Trust, yesterday morning.” “It’s good client relations,” Sangazure replied, running one hand through her straight, blunt-cut gray hair. She was still pretty, Alex thought, which showed what her daughter would look in twenty or thirty years. He liked the thought that Eileen would still be beautiful after they’d been married for that long. Duke crossed his arms over his broad chest and frowned at his partner. “Just how good are your relations with that particular client?” “Damn you, Duke, what are you trying—” “Guys, guys,” Alex interrupted. “Can we cut through the obiter dicta and get down to cases here? The question under consideration here is ‘Coffee or No Coffee’?” Duke frowned at him. “Why are you getting it? Where’s Zoe?” “She went—” “Oh, so only an administrative assistant can get coffee now, is that it, Duke?” Ann snarled. “Your nephew too exalted to take on a woman’s task?” “Oh, for the love of— What the hell do I care who gets the damn coffee?” roared Duke. He flung one hand in the air. Ann smirked at Alex. “Creamer and two sugars for Duke, and straight black for me. Thanks, kiddo.” “Coming up,” Alex said.

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Rose Maybud

As he prepared the two cups of coffee, Alex considered his plan of attack. The law firm of Sangazure and Poindextre had been successful for nearly thirty years, and as far as Alex knew the fighting between Ann and Duke had been going on right from the start. One of the results had been that the people who worked at the firm had separated into tight little groups according to their position—attorneys only talked to other attorneys, paralegals to other paralegals, administrative assistants to other assistants. Other employees, such as the technology personnel, receptionists, and so on, kept to themselves as well. No one ever seemed to cross the rigid social barriers that were erected between each group of employees. All this led to low office morale, and low productivity. Alex knew all about this sort of snobbery. Rankism, it was called. It was everywhere, so common that people thought it was the natural way to be. But it wasn’t. “If I ran the zoo, I’d make a few changes, that’s just what I’d do,” Alex muttered to himself. It was simple. Fix the morale problem, and you fix the productivity problem. If he could do that, then Ann and Duke would have to see that he was fully capable of running the law firm. They would be begging him to become a partner. And best of all, it would be a win-win situation. He smiled. “Here you go,” he said as he handed over the two coffee cups. The office was quiet, for once, as both partners were absorbed in work. A torn manila envelope lay on Duke’s large desk, and Ann was sitting in a dark leather client chair reading the cover letter while Duke flipped through an attachment. Alex barely heard their grumbled thanks. The image of a smiling man with a test tube floated through his mind, sparking a brilliant new idea. Where had he seen that news article? He’d have to check it out on the internet.

***** “All right, Connie. Talk.” Connie Gentry watched warily as her best friend Zoe thumped the full coffee cup down on the desk. When it came to finding out the inside scoop, Zoe Partlett was a heat-seeking missile in a lime-green cashmere twinset. The coffee was an obvious bribe, probably fixed just the way Zoe thought Connie ought to drink it, with zero-calorie sweetener and nonfat creamer. All things considered, Connie preferred cream and real sugar, but Zoe was constantly on a diet and expected everyone around her to follow suit. Successful business leaders radiated health and high energy, and Zoe was determined to do the same. She drank sparkling water, nibbled on lettuce, and worked out so religiously it made Connie tired just thinking about it. To Connie, good food was a friend in times of trouble. But she knew that as far as her ambitious coworker was concerned, eating an extra slice of pizza was a career decision.

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Connie leaned down to punch the button that started up her computer. “There’s nothing to talk about. Sorry, but I’ve got a lot of work to get through. It’s Friday.” Zoe huffed out a breath and shook her head, making her well-cut, dark hair swing around her cheeks before falling back into perfect layers. Zoe always looked puttogether. Her chocolate brown skirt went perfectly with the green sweater, all fresh and stylish as if she’d walked out of a catalogue. Connie looked down at her wrinkled pink blouse and felt frumpy. Connie carefully brushed a speck of dust off Uni, the little plush unicorn that she kept on her desk. His wide, dark eyes looked back at her, full of sympathy. She knew the lecture by heart. Connie, you’re too shy. If you want the right people to notice you, you have to make it happen. Especially in a law firm where the lawyers treat their administrative assistants as if they were some kind of walking office equipment. Yadda, yadda, yadda. The worst was, Zoe was right. But Connie was not going to change who she was just to get noticed. People ought to be nice, and not just to the ones who “mattered”. When someone worked for you every day, and stayed late whenever you asked her to… Connie pressed her lips tightly together. No matter what, she was going to act professionally. Zoe hitched one hip onto the corner of the desk. “Oh, come on, you’ve got circles under your eyes that go down to your knees. You haven’t come out with the Walk-atLunch bunch in a week.” Connie shook her head. It was too early in the morning for True Confessions. To avoid Zoe’s gaze she looked around her workspace, at Uni the unicorn, her cheerful sparkly rainbow magnet, Mr. Green the potted philodendron, and her movie postcard of two cartoon dogs sharing a single strand of spaghetti. But her friend’s voice was impossible to ignore. “And now you tell me you’re going to be too busy to go to the office party this afternoon. You know they’ll expect everyone to show up and congratulate the happy couple.” Connie stroked one of Mr. Green’s heart-shaped leaves. “Considering that Eileen’s mother and Alexis’ uncle are Sangazure and Poindextre, it’s more of a merger than a wedding.” “Hey, it’s free cake and an hour away from the daily grind. I’ll take it. I even wore my lucky sweater today. See?” Zoe plucked at her lime-green top. “So far, it’s produced mixed results. Pender spilled coffee on me, which sucked, but the stain came out and I got a hug from Alex the hunk, so that’s two good lucks to one bad. Now what’s the matter with you?” Connie pushed blonde curls out of her eyes and glared at her friend. “Nothing’s the matter with me.” “Man trouble. I knew it.” Zoe nodded sympathetically. “You’ve been looking so pale. See, I told you it wasn’t from eating salad greens and fish. So who is he?”

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Rose Maybud

“Come on, Zoe.” Connie lowered her voice. “Besides, it’s not like he would ever ask me out anyway. He’s an attorney. And he knows the rules same as anyone.” “No fraternization, or in other words, attorneys are not allowed to date assistants.” Zoe waved her hand in frustration. “What a stupid rule. Nothing stopped Eileen Sangazure and Alex Poindextre from getting involved, and don’t tell me it’s all right because they’re both attorneys. We spend all day with our coworkers. How else are you supposed to meet someone in this day and age? And considering the long hours people work around here, if you can spend that much time with someone and still have a crush on him, it’s gotta be love.” “Unrequited love,” muttered Connie, looking down into her low-calorie coffee cup. Zoe was going to keep after her until she found out, or decided on her own who it was. That wouldn’t be good. She might think Connie had fallen for someone like Alex Poindextre, because Zoe couldn’t imagine a person not falling for Alex. Of course Alex was smart and cute and really nice, not stuck up like the other lawyers, and he always treated the assistants as if they were real people. But he wasn’t the man Connie wanted. The man Connie had fallen for was easygoing, in great physical shape, smart but not flashy. He was kind and considerate to other people. Sometimes she thought she saw something warmer in his eyes, but he never acted on it. When she was feeling blue, she thought it was because he didn’t even notice her. But maybe he was just as shy as she was. And he never yelled. He didn’t scare her the way Zoe’s boss did. He— Familiar footsteps sounded down the hallway. Connie looked up, and a little flutter of panic tickled her stomach. Zoe was going to find out who he was in a minute or two. But it would be okay. She wouldn’t embarrass her friend by saying or doing anything unprofessional. Would she? Connie lifted her finger to her lips. “Shh! Here he comes.” Zoe watched as Roger Daly, Esquire, senior associate in the firm of Sangazure and Poindextre, strode in with his briefcase swinging at his side. His scarlet and gray tie had blown over his shoulder and his suit coat was open, making him look as if he’d run all the way to the office. Maybe he had. He ran a lot anyway, as his trim physique and flat stomach showed. A fervent supporter of the local university’s football team, he exuded cheery confidence and a kind of wholesome energy that reminded Zoe of a summercamp counselor. Roger was probably forty, at least a decade older than she and Connie. And he was Connie’s immediate supervisor. Zoe looked at her friend, whose sweet round face now matched her shell-pink blouse. Roger was Connie’s crush? Not that he was a bad guy, but… She wondered how Connie could possibly imagine getting down-and-dirty with Mr. Wholesome. Still, there was a weird logic to it—Connie’s soft, doll-like prettiness suited Roger’s fresh-faced enthusiasm, as if they’d both escaped from an old TV show about fun, family and fresh air in a small town. But while Heaven had given Connie a brain like a steel trap, there apparently hadn’t been enough steel left over to give her a spine. The

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poor kid was hopeless when it came to standing up for herself, and in Zoe’s opinion it would take a tough cookie to get over shy Roger’s barriers, because he was not the kind of guy who would ever make the first move. As her boss walked in, Connie was tapping the edges of a sheaf of papers against her desk in a businesslike way and carefully not looking at anybody. Zoe gave a mental shrug. If Connie wouldn’t strike up a conversation with the man, then she would. Some things you just had to do for your friends. “Hi, Roger! How’s the wide world of contracts?” she chirped. “It pays the bills,” he replied with a grin. Then he glanced at Connie and his eyes popped. Zoe looked around and saw her practically head-first in the lowest drawer of her file cabinet. The only visible part of her was her lush backside, covered today by a magenta linen skirt. Roger looked away and cleared his throat hastily. “Ah, Ms. Gentry. When you have a moment—” Connie sat up, her face flushed. “Mr. Daly, I—” Zoe decided it was time to intervene. “We were just talking about the night life here in Columbus, Roger. I say there’s plenty of things to do on a date, but Connie prefers to go home and get cozy. What do you think—would it be more fun to go out with Connie and paint the town, or snuggle up with her at home?” Roger looked confused and backed away from them. “Well, I guess any man who dated Connie would be happy to do whatever she liked. Excuse me.” He fled into his office and shut the door. With a sob, Connie dived back into the file cabinet. What an idiot! Zoe decided she meant both of them. She picked up her coffee cup and turned to leave. But she went slowly, just in case things got interesting after she left. The firm occupied two floors of a high-rise office tower in the center of town. Each floor was laid out like a rectangular doughnut, with the attorneys’ offices and conference rooms along the outside to take advantage of the windows, and support staff in an interior ring of rooms or cubicles. A central hallway ran in between, tastefully carpeted in shades of beige and taupe with dark wood bookshelves or the occasional chair to add a touch of atmosphere. Needing a further excuse to linger, Zoe pulled a volume of case law at random off a shelf and pretended to be looking for a case. A quick peek over the top of the book showed Connie’s desk surrounded by a low wall of filing cabinets and plastic potted plants. Connie herself appeared to be digging deep in a lower filing drawer. Roger’s office door opened again. Zoe held her breath as he walked over to his secretary, who was still bent over. Hesitantly, Roger addressed Connie’s round magenta bottom. “Ahem. Ms. Gentry, if you have a moment, I have a proposition I’d like to make to you.”

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Rose Maybud

Zoe almost dropped her book. This she had to hear. Quickly she looked around for an inconspicuous way to get closer so she wouldn’t miss a thing. Shelving the book, she drifted over to frown at the inscription on an oil painting that showed Marmaduke Poindextre standing aggressively with one hand on a stack of leather-bound legal tomes. A critical person might have noticed that she didn’t need to study the painting, since it was a picture of her boss, but Zoe doubted that Roger and Connie were thinking critically at the moment. She just hoped they wouldn’t notice her standing there eavesdropping, so she concentrated on not looking in their direction. She heard a flurry of paper and a little scream followed by a thud. Connie must have fallen off her chair. A clever woman would have managed to give Daly a glimpse up her skirt in the process, but Connie probably hadn’t. Really, that girl had no clue how to grasp her opportunities. Muted apologies followed, along with Connie’s declaration that she was fine. Zoe snuck another look out of the corner of her eye. Roger had lifted Connie and set her on her feet, and his hands were still tucked under her arms. Her face was pink and glowing. The two of them stood face to face as if paralyzed. They were staring into each other’s eyes. “Get on with it,” Zoe growled softly to her boss’ picture. “You—you wanted to proposition me, Mr. Daly?” Connie said breathlessly. “Oh! Ha, ha.” Roger’s laugh sounded nervous. He let her go and backed away. “Of course I’d never do that. Legally I’d be open to a charge of-of harassment if I— That is, um, I assure you I would never treat you with anything but respect.” “Oh. Well, of course you wouldn’t,” Connie mumbled, her face glowing pink. Zoe walked slowly back to her own desk, wondering how she was going to cheer Connie up over lunch. Maybe some Mai Tais at that kicky little Asian restaurant. Lord knew her shy friend would need some stimulant if she’d set her heart on the squeakyclean and equally shy Mr. Daly. Roger Daly dropped heavily into the chair behind his desk and wiped the perspiration off his forehead with a handkerchief. That had been close. His hands still tingled from the contact with her warm skin. No, not her skin, but her blouse. Her blouse…had been soft and sheer and no barrier to feeling the warmth of her body underneath. No! Stop thinking about her body. He shut his eyes, but visions of Connie Gentry’s sweetly rounded ass bounded in front of him, so he opened them again. How could she be so innocent, yet so seductive? Everything about her was delectable, from her mop of blonde curls to those huge, soft breasts with nipples that sometimes poked at the sheer fabric of her blouses, to her full hips and the aforementioned rounded mounds of her ass, down her nicely shaped legs to her shapely feet. He was a fool to be looking at a girl her age—she was much too young for him. Oh, he’d looked all right. He’d even caught a glimpse of white panty covering her crotch when she’d fallen off her chair, a sight so delicious he’d been about to jump right out of his trousers.

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Something in the Coffee

And then she had asked whether he was propositioning her—looking so eagerly up at him, as if the idea might even appeal to her. For a wild moment he considered throwing caution to the winds and asking her if she’d go with him to a hotel room for a nooner—even though it was still only eight-thirty in the morning—but fortunately common sense had prevailed. What if he had, and she had, and then they’d actually made it to that hotel—she might have found out the truth, and… His mind shuddered away from the consequences of that revelation. What would she do if she found out he was still a virgin? He looked around his office, barely noticing how the scarlet and gray football memorabilia clashed with the medieval-style helmet he’d picked up at a recent Renaissance Faire. He could hardly believe it himself, but there it was. It was unthinkable in this day and age, it was absurd, but it was unhappily true. Too shy, too busy with work to date seriously, too strictly brought up for a casual affair, and repelled by the idea of paying someone, somehow it had just never happened. Well, she wouldn’t find out. That was all there was to it. Still, a long time passed before he was able to concentrate fully on the Davis contract.

17

Rose Maybud

Chapter Two Zoe sighed as she set down her coffee cup. Her computer had frozen up again. Reluctantly she crawled under her desk and turned the machine off. One day, she would hire someone to do this—someone wearing cheaper pantyhose, she hoped. Crawling on the floor was hell on the expensive nylons Zoe preferred, but she wouldn’t dream of lowering her standards. Zoe dressed for success. Seemed as if she had more computer trouble than anyone else in the entire firm. Now she would have to call Kevin again, and she really didn’t want to deal with him so early in the morning. Not that he was incompetent. On the contrary, he was a technical wizard. But he definitely went out of his way to annoy her. In the farm town where she’d grown up, she’d known lots of guys like Kevin. Big, clodhopping sons of farmers who had marched docilely from high school into the fields, or more likely into the local factories when the small family farms were swallowed up by agribusiness. Not one of them thought about leaving home and looking for a better life. Their wide cow-eyes had gazed at her in mild surprise when she’d announced her intention of moving to a city. Zoe thinks too much, they’d told one another. Well, she had thought her way this far, and she was going all the way before she quit. Her life would be cool, sophisticated, and exciting. She wouldn’t settle for less. As she scrambled back into her chair, Zoe could hear loud voices coming from her boss’s handsome corner office. They were familiar voices engaged in the usual noisy dispute, so she sipped her coffee while her computer booted up again. The phone rang. It was one of Duke’s clients, a company that provided environmental clean-up services. She placed the caller on hold and then punched the intercom button. “Um, sorry, Duke. Brenden Peek on line two. Do you want to talk to him?” She wasn’t sorry, though. She was glad to have an excuse to interrupt one of their weird arguments. The constant bickering apparently hadn’t done any permanent damage to their relationship, but there was a first time for everything, and Zoe didn’t want to be around if it did. “Thank you, Zoe,” Duke called back. “I’ll take it now.” Ann Sangazure stalked out of his office. “Good morning, Partlett.” “Morning, ma’am,” Zoe murmured, giving the female senior partner’s appearance a quick once-over. Ann dressed well, but her style was too severe—blunt-cut hair that she never touched up to hide the gray, expensive ladies’ suits but no jewelry—it wouldn’t be Zoe’s way, but it was Ann’s. Like addressing people by their last name,

18

Something in the Coffee

with no Mr. or Ms., was also Ann Sangazure’s style. Zoe watched as the older woman swept down the hall. Ann had made sacrifices to get where she was. A sound from Duke’s office caught Zoe’s attention and she glanced through the open door at her boss, seated at his desk. Duke stared moodily at his partner’s retreating form, then spun his chair around and began speaking into the phone. Zoe wondered whether she should say something to him about the fighting. It was a miracle that he and Ann had worked together for so long without killing one another, considering the way they were always arguing. And the language they used! They never talked to anyone else like that. Usually Mr. Poindextre was an old-school kind of guy, very courteous and polite to everyone. And Ms. Sangazure practically made a religion out of treating both the men and the women in the office equally and impartially. But when the two of them sniped at each other, it wasn’t good for morale. Zoe shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Somebody should probably say something. To her relief, Alex Poindextre strode up to his uncle’s door and stuck his head in. “Yo, Uncle. You still alive and drawing your share? It was so quiet there for a minute, I thought Ms. Sangazure had finally done you in.” He turned and winked broadly at Zoe. Warmth flooded her body. Trust Alex to jump right in where angels feared to tread—he was fearless, and charming enough to get away with almost anything. He was the exception to the rule that all lawyers were assholes. “Very funny,” grumbled his uncle. Alex smiled. A woman would have to be blind and deaf not to admire him, Zoe thought. Smooth TV announcer’s voice, crisp blonde curls, blue eyes, as comfortable in his tailored suit as he would be in a pair of jeans—Alex Poindextre was hot. But when he smiled he was devastating. It must be those little crinkles around his eyes, she decided. “I’m joking,” he told his uncle. “If Ann Sangazure ever did knock you off, it would be because you deserved it. But you have to admit, the way the two of you argue doesn’t do much for office morale.” Duke shrugged and growled something Zoe didn’t catch. “I know. But keep it polite at this afternoon’s party, will ya? By the way, I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you.” Alex started to walk into his uncle’s office, then stopped and turned to Zoe. “Oh, Zoe, I almost forgot—Happy Birthday.” He pulled a greeting card out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. “Why thank you, Alex!” Zoe said, touched. “You’re so thoughtful.” “I know it’s not until tomorrow, but hey.” He grinned at her, doing that crinkling thing again. What a doll. “So I got a head start. Gotta do something to stand out from that crowd of admirers you’ve got.” “Oh, stop trying to butter me up,” she said, laughing at him. She pointed into Mr. Poindextre’s office, where his uncle was waiting to talk to him. “Now get in there and get to work.” 19

Rose Maybud

“Yes, ma’am.” He straightened his tie and walked in. The smile lingered on her face as she watched him go. Good-looking, smart, and on a fast track to the top. Too bad he was already engaged. Zoe liked working at Sangazure and Poindextre. She liked checking out the male attorneys, so important-looking in their suits and wingtip shoes. It made a nice change from the home town guys who didn’t even own a suit. When she’d left, she had been determined to find herself a sharp-dressed man. A man with a plan, someone headed for the top. Someone like—herself. She sighed and went back to work. Duke Poindextre watched his nephew warily. Alex was tugging at his tie and smiling—always bad news. The kid probably was going to get on his ass about something, some damn thing he knew Duke didn’t want to hear. Some ridiculous, bleeding-heart, let’s-all-join-hands-and-sing plan to fix the world. Better head him off at the pass. “Where’s that pleading?” he barked. Alex stopped, startled. He ran one hand through his full head of blonde hair. “What pleading?” Duke rolled his eyes elaborately. He didn’t know, he’d only hoped to distract the kid. What was wrong with young people these days? Alex could have at least tried to guess which pleading he meant. Duke picked a case at random. “The Tinderbrook case.” The younger man relaxed. “That’s been continued until next month, so we’ve got a little time. What I really wanted to talk to you about—” “Well, what about the Smith matter?” Alex pulled one of the client chairs around at an angle and sat down. “They settled out of court yesterday. Listen, Duke, the firm has a problem, but I think I know how to handle it. Just wanted to run it by you first.” Damn kid acted as though the firm was his already. “This firm is rock-solid. We don’t have any problems.” “It may not look like a problem,” Alex conceded. “Yet. That’s why now is when you want to deal with it, before things get out of hand. The problem is that the work environment in this law firm—as it is in many law firms—is a toxic environment. It’s all about scrambling to get ahead, internal squabbling and politicking. People need to be treated with respect to be happy in their work. But here, everyone disrespects one another. Employees get ground down and become unhappy, and word of that gets around. Soon, we won’t be able to get good office staff.” Duke shrugged. “Sure we can. Hire ones who aren’t whiners and pay them right.”

20

Something in the Coffee

“You can’t call someone with a legitimate complaint a whiner, uncle. And besides, that isn’t what Sangazure and Poindextre is all about. Come on, we take employers to court when they discriminate against their workers.” “You should be talking to Ann, not me,” Duke grumbled. Damn it, he took environmental cases, not all the touchy-feely employment stuff. Brownfields, that was his thing, not brown-nosing. Hah. Brownfields—brown nosing. He’d have to try that one out on Ann. She’d hate it. “You care just as much,” Alex insisted. “And there’s discrimination going on right in our own offices.” Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw a shadow darken the open doorway to the office—or maybe his attention had been caught by a familiar swish of footsteps on soft carpeting. Or it might have been the faint scent of herbal soap that Ann always used. Whatever it was, the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck lifted as he sensed her approach. He turned to watch her walk into the room. “There’s no discrimination at S&P,” she declared. She had jammed her hands against her hips, her battle-ready stance. Duke settled back to let his partner do the mauling. Alex turned to her, eager as any activist intent on proselytizing to the masses. “But there is! Think about it—attorneys barely speak to their assistants unless they need something, paralegals don’t hang out with the tech support people. Nobody is friendly to anyone unless they’re sucking up or planning to stab them in the back. It’s a toxic environment.” Ann considered this. “Nah,” she said finally. “It’s just a typical law firm.” “But they don’t respect the dignity of their fellow workers. Maybe it’s typical,” Alex made quote marks with his fingers, a gesture that Duke loathed, “but it’s still a form of discrimination. It’s called rankism.” Ann nodded thoughtfully, stroking her chin with one hand. Duke rolled his eyes. Now who was sucking up? “I’ve heard of it,” she said. “Sorry, kid. It may be discriminatory in some form, but it’s not illegal. We can force people to do the right thing, but we can’t make them be nice to each other while they’re doing it.” “And we can’t expect them to all get together for slumber parties in their free time,” Duke pointed out. “How can you dictate who someone is going to like?” Alex stood, wearing that same stubborn frown he wore whenever he wasn’t getting his way. Duke had warned his sister about that stubborn streak, but clearly she hadn’t tried hard enough to eradicate it from his nature. “I know that you don’t think it can be done. But if I could do it, don’t you agree that it would be an immeasurable benefit to the firm and everyone who works here?” “You can’t,” Duke reminded him.

21

Rose Maybud

“But if I could,” Alex insisted. “If I could, it would take this firm to the next level. Everyone would be happier, and therefore more productive. There would be fewer sick days taken, fewer errors due to carelessness and apathy, and clients would seek us out because we would be easier for them to work with. We’d be the friendly law firm.” Ann lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds pretty good.” “Pie in the sky,” Duke said. Alex leaned forward, eyes focused on Ann as if he were trying to hypnotize her. “If someone could do that for S&P, wouldn’t that be worth making him a partner?” “Certainly,” Ann replied. “Never happen,” Duke said, but he knew when he’d been outgunned. Eileen reread the words on her computer screen and deleted the phrase “contains unsupported allegations”. In its place she typed carefully, “is larded with lies”. It sounded much more indignant that way but her heart wasn’t in it. She ought to be bursting with righteous indignation over her client’s plight. Poor Gloria La Cooze had endured unwanted advances from her employer Sheldon Hornay, who had rubbed his cheap trousered loins against her rear while in his real estate office. A clear case of sexual harassment. Ms. La Cooze had been wronged and deserved zealous legal representation. Instead Eileen was guiltily aware of having spent the past hour surfing the internet. If anyone had asked, she would have said she had been looking for a legal-sounding word to describe the defendant’s unlawful conduct. But the truth was that she’d found the term “frottage” almost right away, and then spent the rest of the time in an online discussion of the merits of using copper bowls for making meringue. She sighed and looked around her office for inspiration. The tranquil blues and beiges were supposed to project a sense of calm competence that would be reassuring to clients. Too bad Eileen herself wasn’t feeling the calm. Or the competence. She checked her desk clock. It was ten-thirty, and she had already wasted a couple of hours on this pleading. She should not be having this much trouble. The case was simple, eminently winnable, an easy home-run. Her mother would be furious if she didn’t finish this by the end of the day. And her mother would be right. The case was due to be heard in court on Monday in front of Ann Sangazure’s old acquaintance Judge Jeffries. Some days Eileen wished she had defied her mother and gone to work in a bakery. Alex burst into her office. “Eileen, my adored one!” His adored one bit back a scream of frustration. Not another interruption. But after one look at his glowing face, she forgave him. “Yes, my beloved boy?” He was a boy, so enthusiastic, so impetuous. Right at this moment he was so excited the air around him seemed to crackle with energy. He swept her into his arms and began kissing her neck.

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Something in the Coffee

“Darling. Looking forward to the engagement party?” Eileen melted willingly into his arms, although she had her doubts about the office engagement party. It was supposed to be a goodwill gesture toward the staff, to make them feel they were part of a big happy family. But no amount of cake—even though it was a good one, if she did say so herself—was going to turn the office into a happy workplace. Which was a drag because for some reason unhappy administrative assistants tended to make a beeline for Alex. Kind soul that he was, he felt compelled to comfort them all, with the result that he had very little time left to comfort his fiancée. At the rate he was going, it wouldn’t be long before he forgot he even had a fiancée. “Of course I am.” She ran her fingers over his crisp golden locks. When his hair got long it curled in little ringlets, but now it lay against his head in little bright ripples. No way was any other woman going to touch Alex’s hair. She needed a plan. “Uh, hi,” said someone else. Eileen let out a startled shriek and jumped away from her fiancé. “Who are you?” God, why was it that every time someone caught her kissing Alex she felt like a performer in a peep show? “It’s all right, Eileen, this is Jason.” Alex’s voice was soothing. “Jason who?” Eileen demanded. The young man gave her a professionally friendly smile and stuck out a welltended hand. “Jason Wells. Nice to meet you.” He had a delightful British accent. Eileen looked him over carefully. Medium height, round apple cheeks and waving brown hair, dark eyes. He was slender—almost wiry—with a lean muscular build like a runner, and looked at home in his tailored business suit. Then she noticed a gold chainlink bracelet and a heavy gold signet ring, and revised her positive impression downward. Too flashy. She accepted a warm, firm handshake. “So are you a client of Sangazure and Poindextre, Jason?” Alex put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Actually, Eileen, he’s Jason Wellington Wells, of JWW Enterprises Ltd, a company based in London. Can you believe it, they’ve had their main headquarters at 70 St. Mary Axe for over one hundred and fifty years!” “Wow,” Eileen said politely. “So you’re next to The Gherkin, or whatever they call it?”‘ Jason laughed. “Yes indeed. Quite a helpful landmark it is, too.” Seeing Alexis’ puzzled expression, he added, “The Gherkin is the friendly name that Londoners call the building down the street from us at 40 St. Mary Axe. It’s shaped like a giant pickle, or maybe a spaceship. It’s possible that one of my uncles had something to do with its appearance, but mum’s the word, you know—especially when the architects will insist they meant for the building to look like that.” He laughed again. “So you’re in construction?” Eileen persisted.

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Rose Maybud

“Good Lord no,” he replied, honestly appalled. “No, JWW Enterprises Ltd is a leading purveyor of specialized systems relating to counter-intuitive event sequencing, influencing the concatenation of possibilities outcome-wise, and generally altering reality.” “Con—what was that again?” Eileen was pretty certain it was some kind of con. She’d heard some fine lines of bullshit in her day, but this guy with his cherubic face and endearing English accent was a virtuoso. “Well, that’s what it says in our sales literature. I like to say that at JWW we are not content merely to nudge the course of destiny into a new direction—we’re in the business of twisting the long arm of coincidence right out of its socket.” He smiled at her proudly. She found herself smiling back and accepting an elegant engraved business card. “They’re a distinguished firm of Family Sorcerers, my dear. The firm is named after John Wellington Wells, who was Jason’s great-grandfather.” “Great-grand-uncle,” Jason corrected. “J W Wells was a forward-thinker, the first to apply modern business methods to the practice of sorcery. Brought the firm right into the nineteenth century. But he died suddenly in a work-related mishap and left no direct descendants.” “Sorry to hear it,” Eileen murmured. “But Alex, why do we need a…” She frowned at the card in her hand. “A Senior Account Executive, Potions? Surely the firm is doing well enough. Your uncle is a true rainmaker, and you’re every bit as good at attracting new clients.” “It’s not a business thing. Don’t you remember? This is about fixing the real social problem that we face—discrimination! Intolerance! And rankism, the most insidious of all forms of prejudice. Rankism can affect even people who think they’re treating others fairly, but who have not stopped to consider the value assumptions of a lifetime— unconscious, but no less damaging to those who suffer from being treated with less dignity and respect than they deserve. Eileen, with Jason’s help, we can change all that. And we can start right here, and right now.” “Now?” repeated Eileen, aghast. “Alex, the firm isn’t ready for—for hocus-pocus.” “Just listen to what he has to say,” Alex pleaded. “JWW Enterprises has been around for centuries, with all the By Patent to the Queen and so on—very respectable. None of that New Age woo-woo stuff about them. Well, they’ve invented a philter that is supposed to be infallible. It’s gotten good word-of-mouth, and they have testimonials going back a hundred and fifty years. With this philter, I can change the way the entire law firm operates.” Alex was ecstatic. The words spilled out of him so fast they barely made sense. Baffled, she groped to find some meaning in his excited and breathless speech. “Well,” she said slowly, “filters are very useful things in a kitchen, for purifying water and stuff, but I don’t see how it could have any great effect on a person’s behavior. Especially not when they’re lawyers.” 24

Something in the Coffee

“Not a filter, Eileen, a philter. You know…” He made a mystical gesture to show her what he meant. “You mean like a love-potion?” Hoo boy. “Yes, exactly. Only it’s a potion for the best kind of love—universal love!” His eyes shone as though he’d just presented her with the gift of a lifetime—diamonds, maybe, or a complete set of top-of-the-line cookware. “I’m going to distribute it to everyone at Sangazure and Poindextre, and in half an hour there won’t be a single person in the place who doesn’t look at their coworkers in a new way. Think of it, Eileen! An entire law office, all treating each other like human beings for a change. What do you say to that?” No way. She raised her hands, palms out. “Oh, Alex, this is not a good idea. I mean—love potions? Sorcery? Come on, this isn’t the Middle Ages.” “All I ask is a few minutes of your time, Ms. Sangazure,” Jason put in smoothly. “Allow me to explain the range of goods and services we have on offer, and then I’m sure you will be able to draw your own conclusions on the matter.” Alex wound his arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear. “Please.” His warm breath tickled her ear, and his hard body pressed against hers. “Oh, all right.” What harm was there in keeping an open mind? Jason favored her with one of those oddly entrancing smiles and produced a handsome brochure. All three of them sat down at the table in her office. Jason drew in a deep breath. “Well, to put it in layman’s terms, we’ve only got a few products in the emotion-modification line. Because let’s face it, some human emotions are hard to manage. Infatuation? No problem, piece of cake. But if you’re talking true love—that’s a different story. Nevertheless, our people have circled the globe to find the best possible products to offer our clients. Now, first up is your standard love potion. You drink it, you fall asleep, and when you wake up you fall in love with the next person you lay eyes on. Old family formula, derived from the juice of a certain flower, it’s been around since the reign of Queen Elizabeth the First.” “How do you know that?” Eileen interrupted. “It’s featured in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Here’s a little-known fact— Shakespeare had a member of the Wells family on retainer for just these kinds of questions.” He paused as if waiting for Eileen to comment, but she just raised her eyebrows. “Of course that’s not quite what you’re looking for. I merely mention it for the historical interest.” He flipped to the next page in the glossy brochure. “Our next formula is a little pricier, but more controllable in terms of effects. This one is derived from an old Louisiana recipe, and guarantees you will gain a specified individual’s approval for a certain length of time. All you have to do is add the vic—the subject’s fingernail parings or hair clippings to the potion and drink it, and you’re in the driver’s seat. It fades after a while, so we recommend monthly applications.”

25

Rose Maybud

Eileen made a face. “You drink something that has another person’s fingernail parings in it? Please.” Alex looked tempted. “But how does it work? How do you make them approve of you?” “You can explain your reasons to them, of course. Or you can just go about your own business, secure in the knowledge that you have their unqualified support,” Jason explained. “Some of our clients swear by this particular potion. Just between you and me and the lamppost, you’d be surprised how many politicians order the stuff by the gallon. Of course, we have a strict policy against supplying any of the active ingredients.” “Of course,” Alex nodded wisely. “It would be unethical to provide someone’s fingernail or hair clippings to a client for such a purpose.” Eileen rolled her eyes. “What else do you have?” “Well, our R&D department has been working on some exciting new products, and I just happen to have with me some samples of the latest potions our people are developing, Potions Number 42 and 43. Absolutely brilliant stuff, no commercial application yet, just pure research funded by a grant from a think-tank. But I’m sure one of these will work for you. Ari—our lead alchemist—calls one Eros and the other Philios. Hang on—” Jason hunted in his briefcase and pulled out a test tube with a rubber stopper and a paper label rubber-banded to it. He squinted at the label. “Ah, here we are. This one is Philios.” “Let me see,” Eileen demanded. Jason handed it over. It was a perfectly normal test tube filled with a liquid that looked like water. “What does it do?” Alex asked eagerly. Jason pulled out a sheaf of papers covered with tiny print. “Philios, Philios. Ah, here we are. Hmmm. Lots of technical bullshit—pardon me, Eileen—so let me summarize. Philios makes people feel friendly toward one another, increases goodwill, tolerance, um-hmmmm. May result in excessive friendliness, warmth or…wait a tick, I think that’s the Eros one. Ah. Here’s more on Philios. Designed to break down barriers between people. May make people more verbal, more attuned to sensory input, less interested in external surroundings and more interested in others. So on and so on. Use with caution…test results only, et cetera and so on. Promotes sense of well-being and contentment. That’s it.” “God, it’s perfect,” Alex said, awed. “That’s exactly what we need. This stuff will increase goodwill, make people kinder, gentler, happier. More tolerant. We’ll be putting people in the perfect mood to combat rankism. That developer is a genius.” “What does the Eros potion do?” Eileen asked. Jason stuffed the papers back into his briefcase. “Oh, that one is pretty straightforward. It stimulates the libido, causes temporary enlargement of the genitals. Restricted for national security reasons, of course, so it’s only available to highly secure government agencies like MI-5. And the CIA, naturally.” 26

Something in the Coffee

“Figures,” Eileen said. Alex was smiling broadly. “Well, who cares about that potion? Philios is just the ticket for our purposes. Right, honey?” “What?” Eileen was startled. “I never said—” Jason laughed, a warm and merry laugh that seemed to melt her alarm. “You’re a cautious lady, Eileen. I like that. You’re perfectly right to be cautious too. This is still an experimental potion. Of course, we’ve put it through rigorous laboratory tests, because we wouldn’t offer any product to our clientele unless we have complete confidence in it. But honestly, we don’t have the real-world data to give you on this one.” “Would you take it?” she asked bluntly. “This potion?” “Yeah. I want to see you drink it.” Alex looked shocked. “He doesn’t have to do that.” Eileen stared at Jason. He looked straight back into her eyes, smiling that brilliant smile that was really beginning to bug her. “Sure, no problem.” Jason uncorked the test tube and lifted it to his lips. Eileen watched him carefully. She just knew he would fake it somehow—press his lips together and pretend to swallow, perhaps. Jason read the suspicion in her eyes and grinned. Then he stuck out his tongue and tilted the test tube, allowing a little trickle of liquid to stream into his mouth. There was no way he was not swallowing the stuff, whatever it was. She sat back strangely disappointed. “Mmmm,” he said, smacking his lips. “Lemony.” Alex took the test tube from Jason’s hands and inspected it. “So do you have enough here for, say twenty-five people?” Jason consulted the top sheet of instructions. “Well, ideally a tablespoon should be added to a standard-size coffee urn, so yes, I think so. It says that coffee or other strongflavored beverage should be used to disguise the taste of the potion, so as to minimize rejection by the drinkers.” Alex slapped the table top and stood. “Good. Let’s do it.” Eileen stood too. “Honey, I don’t think this is a good idea. At least let’s sleep on it.” “Well, I can see you two have some things to discuss,” Jason said. He picked up the test tube and slipped it into his briefcase, then checked the chunky gold watch on his wrist. “I’ve got to get back to the home office, and the next flight is leaving in just over two hours. Alex, just give me a jingle when you’ve come to a decision, and we’ll take another meeting when I’m back Stateside again.” “Wait a minute,” Alex objected. “You’re leaving now?” Jason gave him an apologetic smile. “That’s the way the fortune cookie crumbles, big A.”

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Rose Maybud

“We’re taking the Philios potion,” Alex said with a defiant look at Eileen. “What?” she demanded. “Are you crazy?” “I don’t know, Alex.” Jason said. “Maybe you’d like to think about this. You’re taking a big step with the Philios potion. It’s a cutting-edge technology, and it is far from cheap. Why not hire a corporate counseling firm and get your staff to do teambuilding exercises? I hear there are some good programs out there.” “Hand it over, Jason,” Alex said. “Now.” Jason stared soberly at Alex for a long moment. Eileen held her breath, even though she knew it was pointless. He had Alex hook, line and sinker. After a moment, the salesman sighed. He set his briefcase down and smiled at Alex. “Well, can’t say I didn’t warn you. But hey, the customer is always right. So what’s the plan?” “I thought you had to go,” Eileen said. “That was when I didn’t have a job to do,” Jason explained. “If Alex wants the potion, then he needs me to activate it. You didn’t think that all you had to do was pour the stuff into the coffee, now did you?” She was silent. She’d thought exactly that. Alex was already talking. “Everyone’s meeting in the big conference room at four o’clock, when there will be a little celebration of Eileen’s and my engagement. The kitchen is right around the corner from it, so we can add the potion—and activate it, like you said—a little before then. The entire staff has been invited and they’re all coffee drinkers. Oh, man, this is great!” Eileen’s heart sank. Their engagement party was turning into another opportunity for Alex to carry out some grand scheme for the betterment of the firm, and not a public acknowledgment of their love for one another. She felt an odd emptiness inside. Hello, remember me? She turned her back on the jubilant pair. “I’ve got to finish my brief.” The two men never looked at her as they walked out, deep in discussion. Jason was saying, “You are serving something to eat along with the coffee, I hope? It says here that the potion should be taken with food.” Eileen frowned at her computer screen. If they thought she was going to let Alex drift away from her without a fight, they had another think coming. Zoe Partlett set the phone down and rubbed her aching temples. It had been a busy morning. On top of her regular duties as Duke’s admin assistant, Zoe had juggled all the arrangements for this afternoon’s office party. It hadn’t been difficult, really—just coffee and cake, and Eileen Sangazure would be supplying a cake she’d baked herself. The woman was an amazing baker, and regularly brought in pastries so perfect and tempting they looked as if they’d come from a bakery. Her mother Ann claimed it was

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just an extension of inherited lawyerly talents for precision and timing, but sometimes Eileen seemed prouder of her baking than she did of her briefs. Whatever. It made Zoe’s job easier, since she only had to rustle up enough coffee cups, creamer, packets of sweetener and plastic stirrers for everyone. Good thing nobody in the firm really drank anything but coffee—she didn’t have to stock the place with a wide selection of beverages. Now that damn tech support wasn’t picking up their line again, and she had to have this document printed out for the courier to deliver before lunch. She had no choice. She would just have to go down there and light a fire under that Kevin. Tech support, housed in a windowless room with banks of computer equipment displaying blinking red lights, hard drives and monitors piled on shelves, always made her jumpy. It was a strange and technical place, and none of the explanations Kevin offered for a variety of computer malfunctions ever made any sense. He was a classic tech guy. He knew his stuff. He was devoted to his work. She sometimes suspected that Kevin even slept there, on the rumpled sofa at the back of the room. But she hated that she couldn’t argue with him because she didn’t understand a word of what he was telling her. And that wasn’t the worst. The worst was that Kevin knew she didn’t understand and was probably laughing at her all the time. All of these considerations made it necessary to double-check her appearance before facing that Kevin. No sense in looking like more of a fool than she actually was. She stood before the full-length glass in the ladies’ room and took inventory—dark hair still smooth and neat, teeth lipstick-free, coffee stain successfully removed from green cashmere, no scraps of toilet paper adhering to her chocolate stiletto heels, no embarrassing spots, rips or other unwanted debris anywhere that she could see. Her butt was still bigger than she might have liked, but her boobs balanced things out nicely. Whatever Mr. Kevin Malcolm thought he was going to pull on her, she was ready for him. Kevin Malcolm was in the tech support area after all. His tall, well-muscled form was stretched across an office chair, legs stretched out and scruffy sneakers stacked one on top of the other. One hand stroked his short curly black hair as the other held a cell phone to his ear. Instead of a suit and tie, a yellow knit polo shirt clung to his broad chest and a pair of denim jeans hugged his long legs. Thick-rimmed glasses framing his dark brown eyes completed the look of a classic high school nerd. But Kevin was much better looking than any nerd she’d ever known, and he knew it. Kind of like Superman playing Clark Kent. Not that she cared. Zoe wasn’t one to be fooled by a pair of glasses. He had pushed the chairback into an almost horizontal position as he talked into the phone. When she walked in he grinned at her, his teeth gleaming white against the mocha brown of his skin, then slapped the phone shut and stood up. He always stood up to talk to her. It was unfair how he took advantage of the difference in their heights. “There you are,” Zoe said accusingly.

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“And at your command, pretty lady,” Kevin said. He sauntered over and rested one elbow on a shelf above her head. He leaned over her in that intimidating way of his. Her stomach did a little flip. “What can I do you for?” He was a big man without an ounce of extra fat on him, blessed with long, powerful runner’s muscles. This close, she was surrounded by the indescribable scent of him, a mixture of soap and male essence. Her heart beat faster. She glared at him. “You can cut the crap.” He looked hurt. “What?” She pointed to his arm, fingers dangling over her head. “Put your arm down. Stand up straight. And stop acting like you’re Lothario and Casanova all rolled into one. This is a place of business, not a pick-up joint. You provide tech support. I need tech support. Now.” “Right you are, ma’am.” He straightened up and strolled back to the much-abused office chair, where he sat down with a thud and crossed his arms. “Well?” For an instant, she felt bad. But he had deserved it. She wasn’t going to let him come on to her, no matter how sexy he was. No, he wasn’t sexy. He was totally, completely wrong for her. He probably spent his evenings playing some weird computer role-playing game and his weekends going to sci-fi conferences with other computer geeks. He probably got a lot of pizzas delivered, so he wouldn’t have to get dressed to go out. That definitely wasn’t Zoe’s idea of a good time. Zoe knew what she wanted, a mover and a shaker. Someone who dressed sharp, who earned plenty, and who lived large. It wasn’t that she wanted to date an attorney, exactly, but there were lots of men meeting that description in the legal field. In the tech support field, not so much. In a businesslike tone, she described the problem with the printer. For once, he seemed to be listening attentively. “Sounds like a network issue,” he commented and swiveled to face his computer. She watched as his fingers flew over her computer keyboard. He really did know what he was doing. When he was done, he unwound himself from his chair and brushed those clever, long-fingered hands together. “Okay, you should be good to go now.” “Thanks. I’ll be glad to get this project off my desk.” His dark eyes lit up. “So, am I out of the doghouse?” “Yeah, I guess you’re an all-right guy.” She grinned at him. It was a mistake. His expression changed, grew more serious. “That I am.” His big hand brushed her shoulder and trailed down her arm, setting off shivers that zinged along her skin. Alarm bells sounded in her brain, and the logical part of her mind yelled at her to step away from the tech-support guy. “Want to have dinner together?” His voice was deep.

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Damn, he was killing her. He wasn’t her type, and she had no intention of taking their relationship, such as it wasn’t, to the next level. She gave him a dazzling smile. “No, really, I don’t date guys I have to work with.” He bristled. “Or at least not a tech guy, huh? I suppose you’re looking for someone who’s higher up the food chain around here. I know how it goes.” The accusation infuriated her. So what if his being a tech guy was a problem for her? She’d already told herself that she would never date Kevin. Nobody took the tech guys seriously—they were just overgrown kids, nerds playing with incomprehensible toys. He didn’t even wear a suit to work. “That’s insulting, Kevin Malcolm!” she snapped. The frown evaporated. “Hey, you remembered my name. I knew it. You’re secretly hot for me.” “In your wildest dreams.” Zoe stormed out, but his laughter followed her all the way to the elevator.

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Chapter Three It was almost noon. Eileen Sangazure slipped quietly into her fiancé’s office, shut the door behind her and leaned against it, both shoulders pressed against the smooth wood. A fringe of straight blonde hair swept across her eyes as she sent a smoldering glance toward the man she loved. Showtime. His office furniture consisted of dinged and mismatched pieces, which he stubbornly refused to get rid of. Eileen had seriously considered sneaking in one weekend and doing an extreme makeover as a surprise, but her interior designer had unexpectedly refused to cooperate. Some nonsense about Alex having to agree, which he never would. He would have insisted that the money would be better spent on new furniture for the support staff. Well, at least his computer was up-to-date. The walls were covered with photographs and mementoes—Alex shaking hands with the mayor, Alex with his arm around a beloved former astronaut, a plaque honoring his work in establishing a housing project, and a framed snapshot of a labor negotiation team he’d headed—a tired bunch of men and women gathered around a table littered with empty coffee cups and papers. Alex, who was focused on the phone conversation he was having, waved one hand absently in her direction and continued to talk earnestly to someone on the other line. “Of course. Yes, I know. We’re on for this afternoon, right?” Maybe he had forgotten that the two of them were doing lunch today. Maybe he’d gotten so caught up in that potion business that he didn’t remember what he’d promised to his own fiancée. Well, she was going to remind him. And how. She used her shoulders to push herself away from the door and glided toward him as if she were a model strutting down the catwalk. Alex was still talking into the phone and making notes on a legal pad. Maybe she should have worn higher heels. Something sexy, seductive—something to make him sit up and notice her, instead of the admin assistants he was so protective of. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and leaned over Alex’s desk, both hands planted on his leather-edged blotter. “Great. That’s great. Two-thirty. See you then. And—” Eileen took the receiver and set it down in the cradle. “Time for lunch, big boy.” “Hey! I wasn’t done—” Alex said. His voice trailed off as he got a look down the front of her blouse. “Eileen. Your shirt is unbuttoned.” “Just for you, sweetie. Now come on.” She gathered his red silk tie in one hand and pulled him to his feet. His eyes were riveted on her cleavage. So far, so good. “Button yourself up,” he growled. 32

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He reached for her blouse, but she ducked away from his fingers. “Ah, ah, ah. You’ll get your turn soon enough.” Still, she buttoned the blouse herself before they reached the hall. Sex had its place, but not in the office. She tucked her hand in his arm and led Alex triumphantly out of the office and down the block to her favorite hotel. Zoe dragged Connie out to lunch at the Asian restaurant, strictly for therapeutic purposes. Connie had been weeding out her files all morning, which was a sure sign of depression. Now she was doggedly working her way through a dish of something that had been battered and deep-fried, then smothered in a sticky sweet sauce. Zoe wasn’t feeling too chipper either. She played with the seaweed salad that still hadn’t touched her lips. It was a good thing, she reflected, that they hadn’t ordered a round of Mai Tais. “Can you imagine if we showed up blitzed at the office party?” Zoe shook her head. “We’d be out on our asses so fast.” Connie stared at the steam rising from her tiny cup of hot tea. “What office party?” Exasperated, Zoe waved her chopsticks. When Connie got into one of her gloomy moods, it was a wonder she remembered her own name. “Connie Gentry, you drive me crazy. What is the only office party anyone’s talked about around here for two weeks? The party we talked about this morning? Alex Poindextre and Eileen Sangazure’s engagement party. Remember? All the office peons are going to eat cake and congratulate the happy couple.” “Let us eat cake.” Connie scooped up some fried rice. “What are they getting married for? Why don’t they just combine their stock or something?” “Oh, come on. It’s a party.” Zoe gave up on the salad. She wasn’t really hungry anyway, and it was more important to make sure she’d bolstered Connie’s fragile confidence. “And who knows? Maybe you can talk Mr. Wholesome Daly into taking a little walk on the wild side.” “I don’t think so. We’ll listen to them congratulate each other, eat the cake and drink the coffee, and then it’ll be time to get back to our cubicles. Nothing ever happens at these office things.” “You know, it’s amazing that I even put up with you,” Zoe said as she paid her share of the bill. Connie smiled for the first time. “It’s because you’re such a noble soul.” Zoe was glad she hadn’t mentioned her little run-in with Kevin the tech-support guy. She could tell that Connie just wasn’t in a listening mood. Eileen hugged Alex’s arm as they swept past the doorman-parking valet in his epauletted jacket. The decorative white stucco molding which adorned the lobby walls glowed like fondant on a wedding cake. 33

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This whole escapade was naughty on so many levels. She should be working on the case that was going to trial on Monday because Judge Jeffries, who would be hearing the case, was a stickler for detail—and an old friend of her mother’s. For Ann’s sake, Eileen should be ready to impress the socks off that difficult old jurist. But Monday was three days away. And after everything that had happened this morning, she needed to be with Alex now. “Not that way,” she whispered in her fiancé’s ear as he aimed for the quiet restaurant on the ground floor. She tugged him toward the elevators, their intricately worked brass doors gleaming dully in the light of the crystal chandelier overhead. “This way.” He looked confused. “But I thought we were going to have lunch.” “We are.” She pressed the Up button firmly. “Room service.” She giggled. This was so much fun. “But I have to—” he objected as the elevator doors slid open. “Later.” Eileen pushed him inside, quickly stabbing the Door Close button as a family of five approached, pushing an overloaded bellman’s cart. “Those people wanted to—” “They can take another elevator.” The gleaming gold-toned elevator door slid shut and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. “This one’s all ours.” She had to act quickly. Before she lost her nerve. Before Alex could start listening to sob stories from more women in the office and getting caught in their carefully laid traps. That administrative assistant, Zoe, must have looked really pathetic and helpless this morning. How had she discovered Alex’s weak spot? It probably hadn’t been too hard. He was a sucker for anyone who needed help, a determined rescuer of anyone who pretended to need him. Well, Eileen needed him too. And she was going to show him just how much. She smiled brilliantly at him. “It’s just you and me, babe. Nice, huh?” She twined her arms around his neck. “I’ve been missing you. Talk to me.” He relaxed and smiled. His arms went around her waist, thrilling her. The elevator was like a tiny, gently swaying room, with chocolate wood paneling on the walls and the smooth brass doors polished to a mirror shine. “I missed you too.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips. “You know, I’m excited about the plan for this afternoon. Duke and Ann will have to make me partner when they see what I can do.” “That’s great.” She held on tightly and hooked her leg around his, drawing him closer. Be bold. Throw caution to the winds. She kissed him hard on the lips, willing him to respond. He gave a little laugh. “Eager, aren’t you?” He returned her kiss with interest, his hands sliding down to knead her ass. Her whole being sang with exultation. It was working. He wanted her. 34

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He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. She drank him in. “You know what I mean,” he continued. “The firm is a toxic work environment. It’s dog-eat-dog, and everyone’s out for themselves. People can’t possibly be happy there.” Eileen’s spun-sugar fantasy collapsed. Alex was back on his save-the-world soapbox. She stared at his handsome face, and her resolve hardened. I’m his fiancée. I want a sexy noontime encounter, and damn it, I’m going to have one. “We’re not there right now, remember? It’s lunchtime.” She took his hand and placed it on her breast. Such a wanton creature. What would her mother say? Eileen firmly dismissed all thoughts of her parent from her mind. Alex’s hand tightened, and she settled down to enjoy herself. Thoughtfully, he said, “It’s prejudice. But it’s not the obvious sort of discrimination based on race, religion or sexual orientation. It’s based on a person’s rank or status in life, on how much power they have in society.” Eileen sighed. When Alex got like this, it was delicate work to tease his attention to a new direction. “But darling, isn’t that just the way people are? People have different likes and dislikes. You can’t change human nature.” “Of course you can! It’s a moral imperative. Humans must constantly improve. I’ve been thinking about giving a series of lectures on combating rankism.” He sighed and rested his forehead against hers, heavy with the weight of his disappointment. “I’ve made some suggestions in that direction, but I guess it’s not enough.” “Too bad,” she breathed, and pulled his mouth down to hers. This was her time with her fiancé, and she wasn’t going to let anything interfere—not her natural shyness, not her worries about public displays of affection, nothing. Besides, the elevator door was closed and nobody could see what they were doing. Their tongues tangled briefly. She tasted the salt and sweet of him, and then Alex pulled away. “Rankism is the true menace to our society. It’s when a person believes himself to be superior to another person based on some external attribute, like job status or physical beauty or intelligence or skill. But we’re all humans, and all equally worthy of respect and dignity. To treat someone else as lesser than you—that’s rankism.” Eileen focused on unknotting his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, working the fabric as she would a delicate pie crust. She was going to make him forget about everything but her. A sprinkling of golden hairs showed over the neckline of his undershirt, and she leaned forward to kiss them. She reached her hands in under the light cotton of his undershirt and explored the planes and surfaces of his chest. He kept on talking. “Remember that study I sponsored last year? Ninety-five percent of the homeless people interviewed agreed with the principle that people were equal in terms of human worth, no matter what their net worth. In fact, when I explained to a group of derelicts that they were worthy of marrying ladies of the Junior League, not one of the derelicts disagreed with me.” Eileen pushed his undershirt up to reveal his chest, tanned and smooth as the surface of a well-baked loaf of bread. He was pretty buff for a guy who spent most of 35

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his life behind a desk. “Wow. Who knew that derelicts could be so broad-minded? What do the members of the Ladies’ Service League say?” Alex frowned. “Well, at present it can’t be denied that the old guard in general are pretty cold to the idea.” “I suppose that the disadvantaged have a lot less to lose.” “They are certainly more flexible about embracing change. The important thing is, I want to help create a society in which everybody can be happy, and what better way to be happy than to be treated with respect and affection—and isn’t that a wider definition of love, the love of all humanity?” “Oh, Alex. You’re so noble,” Eileen said. She reached down below his belt and stroked him, marveling at the hard, heavy length of his arousal rising under the smooth fabric of his trousers. She was getting to him. He was fighting her every step of the way, with all of his lecturing on rakishness or whatever it was. But she was going to win this battle. He lifted her face with one finger under her chin and captured her mouth with his. Heat bloomed inside her. Oh, yes, she was winning. Lost in the drugging kiss they shared, she felt his fingers pull the fabric of her skirt up higher on her thigh, and then his warm hand swept over her pantyhose-clad hip. She barely heard the bell as the elevator door slid open. “Well really,” said an affronted voice. Oh. My. God. She felt as if she’d been plunged into an ice-water bath, the sexy heat that had been building inside her quenched in an instant of total embarrassment. She stiffened. But before she could back away, Alex tightened his grip on her. Without separating his lips from hers, he reached out and stabbed the Door Close button. Then he finally broke the kiss. As the door slid shut he called out cheerfully, “Sorry, wrong floor.” Mortified, Eileen buried her face in his shoulder. Who had seen them? Was it someone they knew? A terrible thought crossed her mind, turning her knees rubbery with fright. “Oh, no,” she moaned. “This may have been a bad idea. Was that who I thought it was?” Alex gathered her close. “No, it wasn’t,” he whispered. “And this is a good idea.” He trailed soft kisses down her neck, unbuttoning her blouse to reach more of her sensitive skin. She relaxed a little. “It wasn’t Judge Jeffries? I’ve got a case coming up before her.” “Nnn-nnnnn,” he replied, kissing down into the valley between her breasts. It sounded like a negative response, and Eileen relaxed a little more. He pinched her nipples through the thin fabric, and delicious ripples spread through her body. This was so naughty—she was so naughty, and she’d almost been caught. But she’d gotten away with it.

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Then he undid her front-snap bra with one smooth sweep of his hand. And she didn’t stop him. She was wicked. They could get caught. She shivered as her breasts spilled out of their confinement. Her eyes focused long enough to catch her own image in the golden surface of the elevator door, gray suit jacket tucked back under her arms and white blouse spread apart. Alex—a golden reflection of Alex—pushed her bra aside and lowered his mouth to her taut nipples, sucking first one and then the other. The wanton woman in his arms had her head thrown back, her throbbing breasts exposed, and a demure gray skirt bunched up around her hips as his hands burrowed underneath to hold her ass. Then Alex slid down to his knees, finding the tender spot between her legs and kissing her right through her underclothes, pantyhose, everything. Eileen looked down at him, threading her fingers through his short blond hair. She felt like a goddess. Smoothly, treacherously, the elevator door slid quietly open once more. “Oh,” said a startled voice. “I beg your pardon.” Eileen’s head jerked up, and she froze. Framed by the open elevator doors, a darkskinned woman in a severely tailored and obviously expensive suit was standing before her. The woman’s haughty, distinguished face registered a mix of astonishment and amusement as her gaze tracked downward from Eileen’s naked breasts to her hiked-up skirt, then down still farther to Alex crouched between her legs. The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness, giving the woman plenty of time to bring her gaze up and commit Eileen’s face to memory. The door slid closed again. “Now that,” said Alex on a sigh, “was Judge Jeffries.” Alex hustled his fiancée into the hotel room. If he knew his Eileen, which he did, she would need to be thoroughly distracted from the elevator debacle. “Just tell the judge it wasn’t you,” he urged. “Say it was your evil twin Aline, the one you never mention.” “She’s never going to believe that,” moaned Eileen. “She’s known my mother for years and Anne has never said anything about a twin.” “That’s because you never mention her,” he said. He stroked her shining hair. She wasn’t buying it. “I’m doomed. I can’t face her on Monday.” “Come here, babe.” He folded her into his arms. Hell, she’d gotten the room, she’d gotten him interested. She wanted this and they might as well take advantage of the quiet, the privacy, and the wide expanse of snowy sheets on the bed. But he knew it wasn’t going to be easy to talk her down. They had only gotten a few feet down the hall from the elevator before she’d gotten her clothes buttoned up tight again. That was okay. He understood that she’d had a nasty shock. She was the modest ice-princess type, from her cool blonde bob down her willowy frame to the high arches of her narrow feet, and getting caught like that was a big strain on the nerves. He’d 37

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have his work cut out for him, calming her down, but he enjoyed a challenge. Getting her unbuttoned was part of the fun. Plus, he had another reason for getting her loosened up. He needed Eileen’s support. The potion plan was a risky move, but he knew it was something that would pay off big if it worked. This would be the perfect opportunity to make sure she was firmly on his side. He ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel of the silky golden strands slipping through his fingers. He placed his thumbs gently under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her lips were tight, not soft, as he kissed them. She pulled away. Untangling herself quickly, she scooped up the phone and smiled brilliantly. “So what would you like for lunch?” “You,” he said with what he was pretty sure was a come-hither smile. She gave a ladylike little snort. “After that scene in the elevator? Not.” “Sure. Why not?” He took the phone and replaced it in the cradle. Catching her around the waist, he backed toward the bed, pulling her with him. When he came up against the mattress, he let himself fall backward. She landed on top of him with a shriek and a laugh, her hair falling all over her face. “Cut it out, you. You’re wrinkling my suit.” “Take it off.” He held her close, liking the way her soft hips wiggled against his. “No. Come on, we’ve got to get back to the office.” He frowned. “You brought me all the way here, and that’s it? No lunch, no nothing?” “I offered to get lunch,” she pointed out. “You took the phone away.” She didn’t bring up the scene in the elevator. And she hadn’t said she wasn’t in the mood. Alex’s spirits rose. “Just let me get a nibble in.” He kissed her neck, nuzzling and tonguing his way down past her collarbone. She giggled and squirmed, but she wasn’t fighting very hard. As an experienced negotiator, he knew when to take advantage of an opportunity. He scraped his teeth along her sensitive skin, the way she liked, and her body loosened over him. She hummed with pleasure. Quickly he undid her blouse and plunged his hands under her clothes, searching for her breasts. They filled his hands nicely, soft and pliant. He squeezed gently, and earned another little moan of feminine pleasure. The blouse and bra vanished. He rolled her over and followed to the top, pinning her beneath him. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her blonde hair fanned over the bedspread like silk threads. He lifted himself from her and stripped off his trousers and briefs. She watched him undress with a little smile playing on her lips. He unwrapped the small packet he’d taken from his trousers and covered his rampant cock. Then he removed her delicate little panties in one smooth motion, barely noticing as they fluttered down to rest on a nearby chair. She stretched her arms out toward him. 38

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She looked so abandoned, so open and willing, he almost forgot what he wanted to say. He contented himself with drawing one fingertip along the delicate line of her jaw. She was relaxed. Time to drop in a smooth little suggestion. “You know, the best thing about being a lawyer is that we can make things right,” he whispered. “Other people complain about injustice and unfairness, but we can do something about it.” Eileen’s eyelids fluttered, and a small frown appeared between her brows. “What?” Alex dived for one breast, capturing the pointed nipple delicately between his teeth and sucking until her body began to writhe beneath his. He released the swollen and tormented bud and she sighed. He feathered kisses down the side of that breast, stopping when he reached the valley between them. “We need to fight against rankism,” he murmured against her skin, “Rankism is the last bastion of prejudice, the most insidious form of discrimination, a divisive influence that prevents us from achieving peace and happiness.” She opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. “Darling, what are you talking about?” “Oh, just thinking out loud,” he said airily. Too much, too fast. Inwardly he cursed his clumsiness. Now she would want to argue with him. He lowered his head again, trailing kisses up the slope of her other breast. “You” kiss “agree,” kiss “don’t you?” He captured the second nipple and set about teasing it into a peak. Eileen’s back arched, pressing more of her luscious flesh into his mouth. Her hands played in his hair and swept down to caress his shoulders. For a blissful few moments, Alex was absorbed in the feel of her sweet flesh, the drugging scent of her, the salty taste and texture of woman. His woman. “Alex, we’ve got to get back.” “Soon.” He reached down with one hand and unzipped her skirt, wishing he’d thought to take it off her before this. She helped to peel it off along with her underclothes and lay back again. He swept one hand down the smooth length of her hip. “Let me tell you about the plan.” “What plan?” This would be the tricky part. Alex eased his fingers into the cleft between her legs and found that she was already wet. “You know. To make people happy. End discrimination. Make the world a better place.” His questing fingers separated her tender labia and found the pearl hidden inside. Gently, he tickled her most sensitive spot. Eileen caught at his shoulders convulsively. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” “I knew you’d agree.” He grinned down at her drowsy, heavy-lidded expression. Her eyes opened. “Agree with what?” It was a pity to see that languorous look of pleasure replaced by pure blue suspicion.

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“My little lawyer,” he said tenderly. She was a challenge, all right. “Agree with my plan, sweetheart. It takes radical action to move social reforms forward.” “You mean that thing with the sorcerer’s apprentice?” She shook her head. “No. Alex, don’t do it.” He caught her wrists and held her still, searching her face with his gaze. She had to understand. “Eileen, don’t you agree we should be champions of interpersonal goodwill and tolerance, and strive to increase our coworkers’ on-the-job satisfaction?” “Unquestionably, but—” “Then no matter how unpleasant it might be to dabble in the dark arts, I’ll just have to deal with it. This is important.” “Oh, please tell me you are joking!” Why was she being so difficult? Frustrated, he looked deep into her eyes. “Eileen, don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me? Because if we’re to be married—” She curled her lip. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe I’d be better off with Justin Pender— when I say ’jump’, he asks ‘how high?’” Alex snorted. “That asshole. He doesn’t care about you. He’s just trying to get you on his side, because he thinks it will help him make partner.” “And you?” She thrust her chin up, challenging him. “Why do you want me on your side?” He knew that look, that make-me-want-it look. It meant she was almost convinced. His spirits zoomed skyward as an invisible weight was lifted from him. Now he just had to drive his point home. “You tease! Come here, and I’ll show you what I want.” Releasing her wrists, he slid down her body to kneel at the end of the bed. In one swift motion, he pulled her hips right to the very edge, spreading her legs so that she was wide open and exposed to his gaze. She shrieked and his cock leaped, straining against the fabric of his trousers. God, she was gorgeous. Her pussy was covered with soft golden down, and the pink, wetly glistening folds of her inner lips pouted up at him from between her helplessly parted limbs. And she was his. With an animal growl, he turned his head and nipped delicately at the tender flesh of her inner thigh. He let his breath play on her vulnerable core, and felt the shivers fly up and down her body. She groaned. Almost there, he thought. He was playing her like a fish on a line, and she was his. He owned her. His cock was swollen and he was dying to pound himself deep into her heated core. Not yet not yet not yet, he chanted silently to himself. Suddenly, he pressed his nose against her open slit, and inhaled deeply of her scent. She yelped in surprise, her hips clenching tight. He parted her again. “Ahh, you smell wonderful,” he growled against her wet pussy. He dropped tiny feather-like kisses, tender and ticklingly light, on her hot cunt until she began to relax. That was when the tip of his tongue wormed its way in, probing, lapping, and curling around her hardening clit. He loved making her come, feeling her squirm as she danced

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to his rhythm. His hands clamped down on her thighs, spreading her legs apart as he lapped and sucked. She was tensing, tightening, twisting beneath him as his tongue pushed her closer to the edge. Her salty, musky aroma was filling his senses and his cock was going to explode any minute. Soon, soon, soon, he told himself. He was too near the edge to pull back, swamped with the need to bury himself in her but driven by the steely desire to impose his will on her. Delirium roared closer, and just when it reached its peak he felt her surrender. Her orgasm exploded in a sparkling series of shudders. Surging up her body, he thrust himself into her wet, melting cunt. He felt her flesh clench tightly around his bursting cock, and then his furious release consumed him. Sated, overwhelmed, Alex pulled himself from the brink of sleep to look down at Eileen. She lay still, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her glorious release. Now she would take the final step, and agree to stand by him as he reached for the brass ring of success. He cupped his hands around her face, and poured every last ounce of will into his words. “My plan will work. It’s a fucking brilliant plan. They’ll beg to make me a partner.” “Oh, yes, darling,” Eileen murmured drowsily. “Yes, they will.”

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Chapter Four Zoe bustled over to the big copier closest to her desk, hoping she’d be able to make a quick single-page copy without having to trek all the way down to the other end of the hall. Her chocolate-brown stiletto heels were gorgeous and made her legs look a mile long, but they were not fun to walk in all day. She found Connie drooping over the copier, her glum face bathed in the harsh fluorescent glow from the machine. Copies of letters, affidavits and exhibits were stacked neatly on the work table in the little alcove, which had been marked off with three fabric-covered panels. “Got a lot to do?” Zoe asked sympathetically. “Can I cut in? I’ve just got to make one copy of this cover letter for Dukie-baby.” Connie shook her head. “I can’t believe you call him that. What if he ever heard you?” “So what if he did?” “Well, I wouldn’t dare,” Connie said with a little shudder. “He’d probably blow his top and start shouting at me like he does at Ms. Sangazure.” Zoe flapped one hand dismissively. “Ah, don’t let it get to you. He doesn’t talk like that to anyone but her. He’s an old pussycat, really.” “It makes me feel all shaky inside, just hearing them fight like that.” The blonde curls trembled. “You’re too sensitive, that’s all.” “Well, I’m glad it’s you and not me working with him. You’re so casual with him. I get all nervous that I’m going to screw up, and then I really do screw up.” Connie punched a button. “Go ahead. I’m making about a hundred copies of this brief, with exhibits.” Zoe looked sidelong at her friend as she slid her single paper in the machine. “I know what’s bothering you. Look, just forget about Daly. You’re wasting your time, and it’s making you unhappy. Besides, it’s a bad idea to fall in love with your boss. Isn’t there anyone else you like? What about the delivery guy? He’s hot.” Connie lifted her shoulders and let them fall in a hopeless shrug. “I think smart is hot. Smart, smooth, and sharp-dressed is hot. Roger is all that, and a nice person too. I’m in love. I just can’t help it.” Zoe bit her lip. Kevin the tech guy’s accusation swam up into her brain. Maybe that was why she felt so jumpy and snappish around him—he just wasn’t impressive enough. She didn’t want to hang with a guy whose style statement consisted of a pocket protector, and who thought that ordering a pizza was fine dining. 42

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But what did she care about Kevin? So he was cute, in a nerdy kind of way. She couldn’t believe she was wasting time even thinking about him. Mad at herself, Zoe grabbed the paper and its copy from the machine. She wagged a finger at Connie. “You know, Con, all this moping around is getting you exactly nowhere. And it’s damn irritating. Who says you have to wait around for him to invite you out? Just get your ass in there and tell him you want to go out to a movie together or something. At least you’ll know where you stand with the guy.” Connie’s blue eyes opened wide. Her lips parted in astonishment. It was as if the heavens had just opened up and the angels had sung the Hallelujah Chorus. “I could, couldn’t I? Thanks, Zoe!” “All part of the service.” Zoe flipped her a smile and walked back to her office feeling a lot better. Roger Daly looked up as Connie walked in with a stack of briefs. She was so efficient. And so intoxicatingly lovely. He was entranced by the way her high heels clicked on the floor as she walked. When she bent over to set the papers down, he drank in the way her body moved, silky pink blouse sliding over her slender arms and back, that tight magenta skirt outlining her taut, rounded hips and thighs. He could look at her all day, imagining the smooth warm skin underneath the enticing clothes, engaging in vivid fantasies of romping with her in a quiet, anonymous little hotel somewhere. A little love nest, with just the two of them… “Will that be all, Mr. Daly?” Connie was saying. He looked up, startled that he had been caught daydreaming about her when she was right there in front of him. She didn’t have any idea what he was thinking—he was sure of that, because she was smiling at him in a bright and cheerful way. But he could tell she was nervous, even though she was trying to hide it. Her hands gave her away—she was weaving her fingers together, gripping them tightly, then pulling her hands apart only to squeeze them together again. Dismayed, he hoped she wasn’t going to resign, or tell him that she was getting married to some lucky and undeserving lout who would enjoy her luscious body every night. If only he were younger—he would worship her, savor her, exult in her. But he could feel himself getting carried away again. “I was wondering,” she was saying. He smiled encouragingly and tried to concentrate. “There’s this movie I wanted to see, and my girlfriend Zoe can’t go, and I was wondering if you would like to go with me.” Her pretty face was filled with hope. His entire being thrilled with the knowledge that she wanted him—this succulent young creature was beckoning to him, inviting him, enticing him to share in unimaginable delights. He wondered if he’d fallen asleep at his desk and was caught in one of those wish-fulfillment dreams he’d been having about her, but he was certain he hadn’t. She was still wearing clothes.

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Reality hit. What a fool he was! A plush little armful like Connie couldn’t possibly be interested in a man his age—he was almost old enough to be her father. He must be out of his mind to think that his graying hair and creaky joints would attract her. There were younger and fitter men all around, and she could have her pick of them. What about Pender in Litigation? The fellow was always being sighed over by the women. He’d heard them giggling in the office kitchen often enough. Obviously, this invitation was not a real date, he reasoned. She must think him a pitiable old guy who never went out, and hoped to do him a kindness. Or else she was doing it on a dare—horrible thought. It would be best to be safe. He certainly didn’t want to become a laughingstock among the secretaries. Burying his disappointment down deep—it really had been pleasant to fantasize that she liked him—he summoned up what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Surely you wouldn’t want an old fogey like me hanging around. Isn’t there some other person you would rather go to the movies with? Besides, it’s certainly not wise for two people who work together so closely to-to fraternize outside the office. You never know who we might run into. Best to avoid even the appearance of impropriety—don’t want to damage the firm’s image.” He searched her face, hoping she wasn’t angry with him. Connie looked frozen. She hadn’t moved, but somehow she seemed to shrink into herself. “Sorry,” she whispered. He got the impression she was not happy. He said heartily, “No problem at all. We have to remind ourselves of these little rules from time to time.” When her expression didn’t lighten, he added, “Doubtless some younger man would be honored to take you to the movies.” “Oh,” Connie answered in a strangled voice and scurried out of the room. Once again, it was a long time before Roger could concentrate on his work. Zoe wrenched open the door to the stairwell and stormed inside. Damn elevators. A person could grow old waiting for one to show up. It was a plot by the machines to force her to walk down the fire stairs in her chocolate stiletto heels, torture at the best of times. If she had wanted to do stair climbing she would have worn sneakers. Plus, the doors to the stairwell locked automatically when they closed. If you walked in without your key, you could be trapped in there until some kind soul let you out. Or until you trudged all the way down to the ground floor. The stairwell door snicked shut behind her as she was negotiating the first flight of steps. Thank goodness she always kept her key in her pocket. She was crazy-busy, and everything had to be done now because the work day would be over once the party began. This whole day had sucked royally, and getting stuck in the stairwell would be the last straw. At the door to the twentieth floor offices, she reached into her pocket for the key. It wasn’t there. Clucking her tongue irritably, she reached into her other pocket. More 44

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panicked hunting revealed that both pockets were empty. She didn’t have her key. “Damn, damn, damn.” she muttered. She remembered seeing a few people standing in front of the elevator on the twenty-first floor. With any luck, they’d still be waiting. Someone would let her out, and then she’d be damned if she’d bother with the stairs again. She would wait for an elevator until quitting time, if she had to. She was half-way up the stairs to the twenty-first floor when the door to the twentieth floor opened. With a gasp she turned and raced back down. “Don’t shut the door—” The stairwell door slammed shut before she could finish her sentence. “Damn.” Then she saw who had walked in. Her heart gave one big thump and stopped beating. Not him. Kevin Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Sorry.” Zoe pulled herself together. She wasn’t going to panic. There was no reason, absolutely none, why she should be unnerved by this mere tech support person. She was the executive administrative assistant to the senior partner of the law firm—well, co-senior partner—and occupied a much more important and responsible position than he did. Furthermore, she had a ton of stuff to do. “Kevin, would you just open the door for me please,” she said with a friendly but efficient smile, the sort of smile a superior bestowed on an underling. He smiled back at her. A teasing smile. Mischief lurked in his dark eyes, setting off a tingling deep in her belly. “Forgot your key?” “Ha, ha. I guess so.” She could feel her back teeth beginning to clench together. “I would appreciate it if you would open the door.” “Oh you would. Well, allow me—” Kevin reached into his pocket and went through the same groping and hunting that she had just done. His expression changed. “Um, it looks like I’ve forgotten my key too. Are you sure you forgot your key?’ He looked sheepish, apologetic, his expression identical to the one her home-town ex-fiancé had worn when he’d confessed that the diamond in her ring was only cubic zirconia. “Yes I’m sure.” Zoe glared at him. “You’d better not be kidding me.” “Hey. Would I kid you?” Relaxed again, he leaned against the wall and smirked at her. “I figure maybe this is all a trick by you to get me alone in the stairwell.” More come-ons. She was going to kill him. “No. It’s. Not.” “Fine,” he said. He pushed himself off the concrete block wall and sauntered over to the step on which she stood. He gripped the stair rails on either side of her, trapping her, and brought his face close to hers. “But you’re missing a golden opportunity here. You’ve got me all to yourself, a captive audience.” His voice was resonant and deep, and he lingered on the words “captive audience”. His dark eyes were fixed on hers, making it difficult to look away. All of a sudden she 45

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was aware of the details of his face—bronze skin, high cheekbones, wide, strong jaw line, firm, chiseled lips. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. “Stop it,” she said but her voice was weak and breathy. She cleared her throat and repeated loudly, “Stop it.” He shrugged and moved away from her. “Sure. Whatever you say.” This had gone far enough. She didn’t want to go out with Kevin. She was looking for somebody totally different from him, someone more sophisticated, more upscale. It was wrong to let him think he had a chance, just because he made her weak in the knees sometimes. That wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what she wanted in a guy. She wanted—well, whatever it was, it couldn’t be found in a tech support worker. She was just going to have to make her position clear. “Look, Kevin, you’re nice, but you’re not the kind of man I want to get involved with. I mean, come on, everyone knows working tech support at a law firm is a dead end, career-wise. You’re just not…well, I think we’d be better off as friends.” She looked him in the eyes and gave him the biggest smile she could manage. Emotions chased each other across Kevin’s face. Indignation, hurt, anger—each expression made Zoe feel worse. Finally he settled on a sneer. “Sorry you thought I was coming on to you. I was just joking around. Guess I’d better be more careful, or you might think I liked you.” Icy anger coated his words, sending a wintery chill through her. The stairwell door opened and an administrative assistant walked through. Hurriedly Zoe ducked through the doorway and ran down the hallway. She felt sick and miserable. God, what a mess! He had been so hurt. Just like Tom, her ex from back home. Well, she’d done the right thing. She didn’t lead him on, she didn’t lie to him or to herself. And what did she get for her honesty? Kevin made her feel like a worm. Why couldn’t he have just left her alone in the first place? Back at her desk, Zoe’s life began sucking even worse. Her computer went on strike, hanging and losing her document several times. She couldn’t call Kevin now. Fighting back tears of frustration, she begged Connie to pretend her own computer had crashed and then, when Kevin showed up to fix it, talk him into fixing Zoe’s unit instead. Connie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve got against him. He’s cute, he’s reasonably smart, and he’s crazy about you.” “He isn’t crazy about me anymore. If he ever was. He probably hates me now, and I need you to make sure that he fixes this damn thing right away. Please, please, pretty please? Just this once, okay?” “All right, but you’re being weird.” Connie sighed, evidently still full of the drama of her blighted love for Roger Daly.

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Zoe felt her headache recede a tiny bit. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to face him at all. Kevin Malcolm might be a lowly tech-support worker but he wasn’t stupid, no matter what some people seemed to think. He knew when he was being jerked around. He folded his arms across his chest and gritted his teeth. “She just stepped away for a minute.” Connie’s eyes were blue and melting, as soft as her friend Zoe’s eyes were hard and green, like emeralds and other expensive things. “Please, Kevin, she’s just been so busy today, what with the party this afternoon and all. Look, you’re here now. Could you just fix it?” “For you,” Kevin said, swinging one long leg over Zoe’s small secretary chair and settling himself in front of her computer. The seat was still warm, proof that she had been sitting here just moments ago. The warmth felt good on his ass and balls. “Because you asked me nicely. But you can tell what’s-her-name that if she can’t be bothered to ask me herself, she can fix her own computer from now on.” Connie patted his shoulder. “You’re such a nice guy, Kevin.” “Yeah, right.” Kevin sighed and opened up the directory files. He had just about had it with people who didn’t know how a computer worked, didn’t care, just wanted it to perform despite the abuse they heaped on it. Soon, he would be out of here. Soon he would show certain snobby administrative assistants who really had it going on. Soon, certain people—who would remain nameless—would be sorry they had been such a bitch. He’d just located the problem when Mr. Poindextre stomped out of his office. “Zoe!” Kevin frowned at the computer screen. It wasn’t as if he knew where Zoe was. Connie could deal with the boss-man. “Damn it, Zoe!” When Zoe didn’t appear, Poindextre turned on Connie. “Where the hell is Zoe?” “She—” Face pale, Connie backed up until she collided with a file cabinet. “She’s not here.” “I know she’s not here,” barked Poindextre. “I can see she’s not here. Get her back here and tell her I need the Lawson file.” Ann Sangazure’s voice floated out from within Duke’s office. “Please.” “Please, dammit!” Duke roared and stumped back into his lair. He didn’t even notice Connie’s quivering lower lip, her teary eyes, or the way she was wringing her hands. Kevin shook his head. “Don’t take it personally. Boss isn’t mad at you.” “I know,” moaned Connie. “But I just hate it when he yells.”

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“Blame it on your so-called friend Zoe.” Connie put one small, pink hand on her trembling bosom. “I shouldn’t let him get to me,” she murmured. “I’m just such a wimp. I don’t know how Zoe can stand him when he gets like that.” “Question is, how he can stand her?” She looked at him curiously. “Why are you so mad at Zoe?” “Me? I’m just the tech support guy. I don’t get mad.” Duke stuck his head out of his office. “Where’s that file?” Connie jumped as if she’d been stung. “Oh! I— Just a minute, sir.” She scurried away, leaving the two men watching her magenta skirt bobbing down the hall. After a moment, Duke switched his attention to Kevin, who was letting a defrag program run on Zoe’s computer. The lawyer jerked a thumb at the discreet beige-painted metal drawers stacked behind the desk. “Why the hell didn’t she just look in the damn file cabinet?” Kevin shrugged. “That’s why I work with computers.” Zoe watched from behind a bookcase as Kevin sat at her desk. His dark, curly head bent over her computer, and his big, rangy form dwarfed her little secretary’s chair. The yellow knit polo shirt he wore—why couldn’t he wear a white button-down shirt, like every other man?—stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he focused on his work. She wasn’t hiding from him. She had just happened to notice that her coffee cup was empty right before Connie asked him for help. It was merely a coincidence that she hadn’t been at her desk when he came up to do his job. Why wasn’t he done already? She didn’t want to talk to him. They had nothing to talk about. As if he could feel her watching, Kevin looked up. She was caught. “I had you pegged as a snob, but I didn’t think you were a coward too,” he called to her. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to come over here and order me around?” That did it. She charged up to her desk. Slamming both palms down on its surface, she leaned over and stuck her face in his. “Listen, asshole. You’re pushy and aggressive and you never take no for an answer. I’ve told you over and over that I’m not comfortable with that, and you don’t even do me the courtesy of backing off, the way you ought to do.” He stood up. God, even when she had him dead to rights, he still did that looming thing, towering over her in that inconsiderate way. “You women drive me crazy. I’m the guy, so I’m supposed to do all the work, ask you out and all that shit, and when I do all I get is abuse. What the hell do you want from me?” “I want you to listen to what I am telling you.” What did it take, brain surgery?

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Kevin growled and threw his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Your computer is working now.” He stormed off. She plopped down in her chair, wishing she could cry or scream or throw something. From behind her, Ann Sangazure said, “Ah, man, that takes me back.” Both partners stood outside Duke’s office door. Ann had a reminiscent smile on her face. Great. Just perfect. That was what Zoe needed—having her bosses hear that little exchange. Mr. Poindextre looked irritated. “What does?” Ignoring his comment, Ms. Sangazure nodded approvingly. “Good for you, girl. Don’t take any shit from any man. Women are always putting up with things they don’t like and then they’re unhappy about it. And why should the woman be the one who’s always unhappy?” She slapped Zoe on the back. “Now get back to work.” “She can’t work until you stop yakking at her,” growled Zoe’s boss. The two disappeared back into his office, leaving Zoe staring after them. Ann Sangazure walked back into Duke’s office. She’d always called him that, even when they had been at law school together, because she couldn’t believe anyone would have been idiot enough to name their kid Marmaduke. He didn’t look like a Marmaduke. He was too barrel-chested, too heavily muscled, and his square face was too pugnacious for such a prissy name. Then again, what kind of people named their daughter Annabella? Growing up, she’d punched anyone who’d dared to call her that. As soon as she could, she’d changed her name. Ann looked out the big plate-glass window and contemplated the early days of the firm. She and Duke had been friends from the time they had met in law school, mostly because they had both been fighters. Later they had shared law office space. She had battled for equality between men and women. Duke had fought for a clean environment. The years had passed. Both of them had been surprised to find themselves actually running a profitable law firm, owing to several spectacular victories in court against large corporate defendants. “What takes you back?” Duke asked again. He didn’t look much different now— blocky and aggressive, eyes sharp as gimlets, clever, crafty brain. His suits had gotten more elegant over the years. His hairline had receded somewhat, but hair had never been a big selling point with Ann anyway. She waved her hand. “Watching those two kids fight like that. We argued all the time, remember?” Duke grunted. “We still do.” He walked behind his desk and stood there with both hands thrust deep into his pockets. The coins in his pockets jingled faintly. He frowned down at the briefs and memos stacked before him.

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Ann contemplated her long-time law partner. What would he do if he knew the truth? If he learned that instead of ripping his legal arguments to shreds, she had always longed to rip his clothes off? He’d never seemed interested in her, except as a friend and professional colleague. But she’d never given him the chance. What if… Nah. She would never have given up her career. She would never have wanted to be a dutiful and obedient little hausfrau. She couldn’t have things both ways. She had made her choice, and buried her desire in hard work. “Does it bother you?” she asked. “Arguing with me.” “Good lord, no,” he replied without lifting his gaze from the top of his large executive desk. “Only thing that keeps my mind sharp. I live for our little differences of opinion.” “Good.” She felt a warm glow inside her. She mattered to him still. But the glow was instantly dimmed by a shadow of insecurity. Compulsively, she probed deeper. “I’m surprised you never married some fluffy little airhead who would cook and clean and hang on your every word.” He shook his head. “Drive me crazy. What’s wrong with things the way they are?” “Nothing,” she said. But it wasn’t true. She wanted him. She had a brief, intense vision of the two of them, sweaty, grappling on top of wrinkled sheets, his weight on her body, his cock thrusting into her. She wanted to lie back and let him have control, gloriously safe in the knowledge that he would take them where they both wanted to go. For a second she closed her eyes. She opened them to find Duke watching her. “Would you change anything?” he asked. Panic welled up suddenly inside her. What if she said what was really on her mind? Would he recoil in disgust? Things were going well. If she spoke up, it might ruin everything. She would lose his friendship, and then where would she be? Ann shrugged. “Don’t want to mess with success.” After Ann left, Duke was still on his feet behind his desk fingering the coins in his pocket. Maybe he had been wrong all these years. Should have gotten married long ago to some quiet, sweet-faced girl who would sit back and let him take care of things. As it was, his partnership with Ann was hot, stressful, and dangerous, as if they were both trying to steer the same race car during the final lap of the Daytona 500. Fighting with Ann for control of the firm was exciting. She was quick and clever, and he liked the way her eyes lit up when she thought she was winning. And then, when he pulled a fast one at the last minute, the satisfaction of beating her at their private game was sweet. He always kept one eye on the firm’s profits, checking to see how much came from his clients and how much from hers. The money didn’t really matter to him, he just liked to keep score.

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But he wasn’t as young as he’d once been. It got harder each year to deal with the constant arguing, and winning the game had begun to feel like a grind. His evenings alone felt empty. Mornings shared only with a TV news crew drove him to leave for the office that much earlier. “Bah,” he said out loud and sat down in his ergonomically correct executive chair. He was a lucky man. He had all the toys he wanted, and no one standing around with their hands stuck out demanding clothes and cars and college tuition. Plus he had Ann to fight with, still feisty after all these years. He picked up a thick-nibbed fountain pen, the one he liked to save for signing important pleadings. It had been a gift to himself a couple of years ago, an expensive splurge that had been late in coming. He’d wanted it for a long time, but had held off on buying it, thinking it would be a good reward for when he became official senior partner, and not just the second name in the firm’s title. But finally he had gotten the damn pen, realizing that if he and Ann were still locked in this struggle for superiority after all these years, he probably would never be the one and only senior partner. The truth was, he’d been whupped. Whupped by a sturdy little female lawyer whose eyes snapped blue fire and whose trim body was still worth ogling, or would be if she ever took off those shapeless blazers she wore. No other woman could measure up to her, and god knew he’d looked around. He just wished to hell it all had turned out more comfortably. The LaCooze vs. Hornay pleading glowed on the computer screen before her, but Eileen Sangazure barely saw it. She worried at her lower lip. Had her lunchtime interlude with Alex been a success, and if so, for whom? Before she could decide, her mother strode in with a certain look on her face. Ann’s looks were easy to interpret. This one was the “I have something to say and you’re going to listen, young lady” look. Determined, like a battering ram was determined. Unavoidable, like death and taxes were unavoidable. Some things never changed. Her mother’s appearance hadn’t changed in thirty years, either—steady blue eyes free of make-up, neatly cut gray hair that she disdained to dye, sensible clothes from a quality purveyor of preppy-style fashions that only looked good on trim, athletic bodies like hers. Eileen groaned inwardly. Perhaps she could head off the lecture. She sat up straight. “Hello, Ann,” she said briskly. “I’m just finishing up this memorandum on the LaCooze case. Let’s talk when I’m done.” It was always Ann, never Mom, and had been for years. On Eileen’s eighteenth birthday, her mother had announced that she had finished the work of raising a daughter. Eileen was an adult now, she said, and they would deal together as adults and not as parent to child. 51

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Ann sat down in one of the client chairs across from her and smiled. “Glad to see you hard at work. See, I told you when you got your own clients, it would make all the difference.” Eileen shifted in her seat. “Well—” “You’ve got to admit it’s better than working in a bakery, for god’s sake.” “I liked the bakery. And I was moving up to—” Ann waved a hand. “I know. It was fun. A great hobby. But you’d never support yourself by cooking things.” “Baking things. And wedding cakes—” “Don’t worry about the LaCooze memo. I know you’ve got other things on your mind. You can get it to me by Sunday, and I’ll look at it right away.” Clearly, Ann had decided that the subject of Eileen’s career as a baker was closed. “But I still have to finish—” “So how are you and Alex getting along?” Eileen took a deep breath. “Fine. We’re getting married, remember?” Ann nodded. “Yes. Sure. Well, I’ve been thinking about you two. Now, you know that I don’t approve of marriage as such. It is a social contract that disrupts the balance of power between two equal and independent individuals, and favors the male to the detriment of—” “Yes, Mom, I know,” Eileen said, rolling her eyes. Ann looked uncomfortable. “Well. Good, good. I’m glad you grasp that issue. To continue, then, I just wanted to say that even though the institution of marriage has some serious flaws, I hope you and Alex will be happy together. He is a very nice young man, and a very promising young lawyer.” Ann pressed her knuckles hard against her lips. It was her way of holding back a sappy or sentimental impulse. Eileen smiled tenderly at her mother. Trust Ann to do things differently. The sudden warmth she felt toward her mother helped to soothe her irritation with Alex. “He is a good guy, isn’t he? But don’t worry, I won’t forget the principles that you taught me. Stick to my guns, be true to myself and never give in when he wants me to do something against my better judgment. Right?” She squirmed a little, inside. Had she given in on the potion in the coffee thing? “You’re right, that’s right, but…” Ann chewed on her lip for a moment. “Once you’re married you will have to compromise. And that’s not always a bad thing. Eileen, all I want to say is—don’t stick to your guns so much that you wind up choosing the guns over your partner. Know what I mean?” “No,” said Eileen. Ann huffed out an impatient breath. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.” “What mistakes? I’ve never heard you talk like this before.”

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“Nothing we need to go into.” Ann got up hurriedly. “Well, I’ve got to get ready for the meeting at six with the Wilkinson Trust. Damn people have to meet today, because the end of the quarter is coming up and they want to review the figures. Don’t worry about Alex. I’m just being over cautious. You’ll be fine. You’re a grown woman, you know what to do—” “Wait,” Eileen protested. She slipped in front of her mother, stopping her from leaving. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Me? I’m fine. Never better. Got a meeting with a client in five minutes, though, so I’d better run.” Ann patted her daughter’s hand. “I’m so glad we had this little chat.” Eileen watched her mother stride down the hallway. What was that all about? She thought about Ann’s prickly relationship with Duke over the years. He was a good man, a good friend, and for a long time Eileen had hoped he’d become her father. He was so much a part of her life that she’d always called him “Uncle Marmaduke”. She still thought of him that way, although she knew she should call him Duke, like her mother did. Maybe her mother had finally noticed that Duke had been in love with her all these years. She’d better go talk to Alex. She could put her mother’s advice about compromise into effect right away. Eileen took a deep breath and headed down the hall to his office. After all, she was planning to marry him. This was about trust—and about her being able to rely on his judgment. She loved him. This attitude improvement plan he’d cooked up meant a lot to him. She was going to show him she trusted him and would support him, no matter how stupid his idea was.

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Chapter Five “Okay, what’s the next step?” Alex rubbed his hands together in a gesture that reminded Eileen of Uncle Marmaduke and paced the floor of his office. She sat with her arms crossed and one thigh perched on the windowsill, gazing out at the rooftops of the office buildings that surrounded them. Why didn’t people fix up their rooftops, she wondered, instead of leaving them as an ugly expanse of tar and tatty old heating, ventilation and air conditioning units. Mentally, she covered the surfaces with a thick layer of concrete, smooth as rolled fondant. She didn’t want to know what was happening here. She didn’t like any of this. But Alex wanted it, and she was going to support him if it killed her. At least she knew he meant well. What really bothered her was the intentions of the third person in the room. Jason was sitting in one of the leather client chairs, legs crossed and arms draped over the armrests. He grinned at Alex. “Point me toward the coffeepot, and I’ll do my woowoo thing.” “Can’t you just tell us how to do it ourselves?” Eileen asked. Jason shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I’m the only one here with the training to do the activation. Trade secret, you understand.” “A spell? Oh, come on.” Eileen turned to Alex. “How are you going to explain having a guy standing over the coffee urn muttering incantations? ‘No problem, folks, just adjusting the coffeepot’s aura.’ That won’t go over well.” He waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll just say he’s repairing the unit, and leave it at that. Shut the kitchen door and tell them not to come in because we’re getting stuff ready for the party.” She rolled her eyes. Men. “You can’t keep people out of the kitchen right before the party. They’ll be coming in and out with the plates and cups and who knows what. You’d better take the coffee urn somewhere else.” Alex thought for a moment. “The file room on the twentieth floor. Nobody goes in there.” “Let’s hope not,” Eileen grumbled. She followed the two men to the kitchen, where they collected the coffee urn and carried it down the stairs. Luckily, no one asked any questions. Nobody would have believed the nattily dressed Jason was a small-appliance repairman. They set the urn on a work table at one end of the large filing room. Stacks of plain metal shelving held old case-files, labeled with a color-coded number system. A clipboard hung on a nail on the wall, its clip holding a sheaf of papers marked “Index,”

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which listed all the code numbers and what they meant. The room was dimly lit and smelled of dust and paper. Jason looked over his shoulder at Eileen. “You don’t have to stay.” “I think I will anyway,” she replied coolly. She wanted desperately to leave. This whole thing was creepy and weird. It was also bringing out a side of Alex that she had never seen before. She knew him to be stubborn and impetuous, but he’d never dabbled in the occult. She glanced over at him. Alex was shifting his weight from foot to foot and rubbing his hands together, the way he often did before going into court. Maybe he was having second thoughts. Her heart filled with tenderness. He meant so well. He was so enthusiastic about doing good. He never ignored an injustice, or left undone what he could do to change the world for the better. He was a man of action, a crusader at heart. She moved over next to him and took his arm. “You don’t have to go through with this,” she murmured. “Just tell Jason you’ve changed your mind.” “What, now? You’ve got to be kidding. Come on, aren’t you as curious as I am?” She dropped his arm. “Curious doesn’t even come close to describing my feelings.” Jason turned to them both. “I’m ready. Stand over there.” They moved back. He removed his suit jacket and hung it carefully on a coat tree in the corner. “Don’t you have to wear a robe covered with mystical symbols and one of those pointy hats?” Eileen sneered. Jason grinned as he removed his gold cuff links, pocketed them, and rolled up his sleeves. “Good Lord, no. That’s just in the movies.” He turned to face the coffee urn and took a deep breath. Then let it out slowly. Eileen fidgeted as she watched him stand silently with his head bowed, seeming to gather in his strength. It was uncanny how the atmosphere had become charged with energy. Weight gathered on Eileen’s chest, pressing harder until she realized she was holding her breath. She let it out with a grimace. Jason lifted his arms in a summoning gesture, his face turned up. The movement was graceful, powerful, and full of portent. Energy seemed to fill the air. The incantation was about to begin. Eileen clutched Alexis’ arm. Without warning Jason dropped his arms and turned to them. “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you. There’s a song that goes with this. Just so you know.” She looked at him doubtfully. “You’re going to sing a song?” Jason shrugged. “It wasn’t written for a fine man with a fine voice. But it’s effective. So don’t be surprised, is all I’m saying.” “Get to it,” Alex ordered harshly. He was worried, she thought. Why couldn’t he just back down? There was still time to call this thing off. She shook his arm, and gave him a pleading look when he turned to her. He patted her arm and smiled reassuringly.

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“Right. Here goes.” Jason turned back to face the coffee urn and quieted himself again. In the dim light, he seemed like a figure out of the Arabian Nights, his face shadowed and full of exotic mystery. With the same grace and power, he lifted his arms in that magical gesture of summoning. Sprites of earth and air Fiends of flame and fire Demon souls, come here in shoals, This fearful deed inspire! Appear! Appear! Appear! She frowned. This was ridiculous. She drew in a breath to tell Jason to stop acting like an idiot. Suddenly a cold wind blew through the file room, ruffling the file folders on their metal shelves and lifting the loose papers that lay on the table. She looked around. Where was the wind coming from? She glanced over her shoulder at the dusty, closed windows. Then the air was filled with the sound of eldritch whispering, a wordless noise that seemed to come from all around—a sound like rustling paper and shuffling feet. Her skin prickled. The whispering grew into a swell of sound, and from it words began to emerge. We are here. We are here. Master, we are here. “Oh my god. He’s actually doing it,” Alex said in a tone of awe. Her knees were shaking. “Let’s get out of here.” “We can’t leave now.” Alex pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. She wanted to bury her head in his shoulder, but she couldn’t stop looking. Jason was singing again in that same ominous minor key. Again he repeated that strange command to appear. A wave of heat rushed through the room accompanied by the sound of crackling flames. Eileen started and pulled herself free from Alex’s embrace. Fire—and in a room full of paper! She looked from side to side, searching frantically for the source of the danger. The dusty room was dim, quiet, and smoke free. We are here. Good Master, we are here! The eerie voices spoke in tones of wind and fire. The air around Jason seemed to swirl and darken. His outline began to blur as the uncanny energy circled his form like a localized tornado. Tongues of flame licked out of the rushing winds that surrounded him. “One,” Jason said. The coffee urn gave a little jump and its lid rattled. The atmosphere in the file room became tense, expectant, like the moment before the starting bell of a race. “Two.” His voice was louder this time, commanding. The coffee urn gave another hop and clattered back to the table. The tension grew and pressed against Eileen like a physical weight. Anticipation and glee—emotions not her own—surged around her in waves. It was unbearable. Eileen felt as if she were about to shatter, pulled in opposite 56

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directions by unimaginable forces. She realized with horror that she was surrounded by unseen entities, disembodied spirits that tumbled and giggled and shrieked around her. They shot through the air, spinning and darting, dancing, brushing against her and leaving ghostly trails of their presence on her cringing skin. She wanted to scream, but fear had sucked the air out of her lungs and rooted her to the spot. “Three,” Jason thundered. The swirling energies emitted a blast of unholy triumph, an uncanny screech of wicked joy, and rose to join together in a spinning ball of ghostlight above the coffee urn. Set us free! Set us free! Our work is done! The roiling ball rose higher, becoming a coruscating mass of power. Jason brought his hands together in a mighty clap, and the tempest of tension and anticipation broke. The uncanny ball of light plummeted into the coffee urn, trailing a glittering stream of sparks. Glowing evilly, the coffee urn rattled and vibrated. Gradually the noise quieted. After a few moments, the urn appeared once more to be nothing but a mundane and utilitarian appliance. The fluorescent lights overhead gave one last flare and then, between one breath and the next, everything was normal again. Between one breath and the next. Eileen’s skin tingled and her hair was standing on end, but the filing room was as ordinary as ever. If she hadn’t witnessed the uncanny scene of a moment ago, she wouldn’t have believed it possible. “Phew.” Alex looked a little pale. Jason took a white cotton handkerchief from his pants pocket and mopped his brow, then gave them a breezy smile. “I think that went well.” He pulled the small test tube with the clear liquid out of his pocket and poured the contents into the coffee urn. “Now just take that back to the kitchen and plug it in, and you’re good to go.” Eileen peeked into the urn. The inside was ordinary and empty except for a tablespoon or so of liquid sloshing around in the bottom. “Are you sure it will work?” Jason shrugged. “It ought to. I followed the standard procedure to the letter. You saw the whole thing.” “It was weird.” Eileen shuddered. “I can’t believe you do that all the time.” Jason shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, it gets easier the more you do it.” Under his breath, so softly he probably thought no one else could hear him, he added, “So they say.” Eileen heard. “You don’t know if it gets easier? Why, was this the first time you worked the spell?” “Of course not.” Jason looked offended. “I’ve practiced it before.” Alex looked at his watch. “It’s a quarter to. We’d better get going.” “Oh, lord, the party!” Eileen gasped. “And I have to set up the cake.”

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Alex gingerly touched the coffeepot, then relaxed and picked it up. It certainly looked like a normal coffeepot. “I’ll just take this back upstairs, and then Jason and I will take care of the paperwork back in the office.” The two men marched off with the coffeepot. Eileen hurried to the kitchen to make sure the cake she’d created for the party was ready to go. She had a feeling it would be hard to get back to work. Eileen pulled the cake box out of the refrigerator and began applying the finishing touches, tiny curls of white and dark chocolate arranged artfully across the top. Her secretary, Miranda, poked her head into the kitchen. “Aren’t you coming to your own party? It’s five minutes after three.” “Oh, lord,” Eileen said. “All right, I’m coming.” Ann Sangazure would never even notice if her daughter were late to her own engagement party. Thanks to Miranda, she didn’t have to. Eileen’s assistant had a positive genius for handling traditional motherly tasks. The engagement—and the wedding to follow—had inspired her to reach new heights. “Oh, look at the cake! It’s gorgeous! Almost too beautiful to eat.” Miranda’s eyes shone with excitement. “I’ve used three kinds of chocolate,” Eileen said. “It should be good.” “It will be heavenly,” the assistant assured her. “Here, let me carry it in. You’re the guest of honor.” “But—” “Now, now, you let me take care of it. Go on, everyone’s in there already.” “Ack,” Eileen said. She smiled at her assistant. “Do I look all right?” “Just like a bride,” Miranda gushed. A bride. It was a jolting thought. Of course Eileen was prepared to marry Alex. She couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with anyone else. But she hadn’t given much thought to the whole white-wedding hoopla that would come before the two of them could settle down into the more comfortable state of marriage. She sighed and straightened her suit jacket. Time to head over to the big conference room for the event that would kick off the hoopla. The staff had already assembled in the conference room. Uncle Marmaduke was standing with his back to the large plate glass windows talking to Pender in Litigation. Pender appeared to be hanging on the senior partner’s every word, nodding sagely, and occasionally flashing his patented smile at the assembled group. Eileen ducked her head to hide her smile as she arranged the cake. Good thing Alex hadn’t arrived yet—he couldn’t stand the litigator. She agreed with him that Pender was insincere, untrustworthy, and about as shallow as a paper plate. The man was gorgeous, but had definitely skimped on learning other life skills, like hard work and kindness to others. Alex had been delighted to encourage her lack of interest in the handsome attorney. Bless his jealous little heart, she thought fondly. 58

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On the other side of the room her mother was standing with her back to one of the carefully chosen abstract artworks that decorated the walls, her suit coat unbuttoned and both hands jammed into the pockets of her skirt, showing that she was making an effort to relax. She was lecturing poor Roger Daly. The earnest contracts attorney was listening carefully, his head bowed and his fingers toying with the “Block O” insignia tie that he wore each time his alma mater was scheduled to play football. Eileen thought he looked less cheerful than usual. She hoped nothing was going wrong with his contracts. Down near the foot of the table, Zoe Partlett and her friend Connie Gentry sat side by side looking glum. On the other side of the room, a couple of male associates were trading jokes with the tech support guy. Eileen tried to think of his name, and couldn’t. She took a last look at her creation, which had been given a place of honor at the head of the large conference table. She’d wanted to do a multi-level cake, with the carved and angled tiers that were all the rage in culinary circles these days, but it wouldn’t have been practical. She’d settled instead for a large sheet cake decorated with chocolate curls and a sugar-paste medallion in the center with the words, “Eileen and Alex.” Not bad, if she did say so herself. Beyond it on the credenza, beside neat stacks of plastic coffee cups and packages of creamer and sweetener, squatted the coffee urn. Eileen shuddered and turned away. This potion thing was a very bad idea. But Alex had wanted it, and his intentions were so good. He wanted to make the world a better place. The decision to go ahead with the potion in the coffee had been a test of their relationship, she thought, and on the whole they’d weathered it well. The male ego was a fragile thing, and she really didn’t want to crush his enthusiasm for reform. She had to trust him sometime, didn’t she? Give and take, that was what it was all about, and this time she had given. Besides, what was the likelihood that this “Philios Potion” would actually work? Probably the test tube had held nothing more than a few tablespoons of water. Jason himself had drunk some of it right before her eyes and he was still alive, which meant it probably wasn’t harmful. And no one would be able to measure whether or not the people in the office were being nicer to each other after they’d tasted the “magic” drink. Jason’s impressive show in the filing room probably wouldn’t have any effect other than to extract a hefty sum from her credulous fiancé. Alex and that guy from X-Files— they both wanted to believe. On the other hand, that scene in the filing room had been creepy. She wondered how he’d managed the special effects. But now Uncle Duke gave a resounding harrumph. “Well, let’s get started. Where is the happy couple?” Alex slipped up beside her and took her hand. He gave it a squeeze. “Here we are.” “Where have you been?” Eileen muttered out of the corner of her mouth. He shrugged and grinned.

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“Ah, there they are,” her uncle was saying. A scattered round of applause followed, which Eileen dutifully acknowledged with a modest smile. Alex did the same, nodding his thanks to the group in general. Uncle Duke launched into a speech on the subject of harmony, trust and working together. The familiar sounds washed over her effortlessly—he gave the same speech at retirements, departures, arrivals, and any other milestones in the life of the firm. Freed from the need to pay attention, she looked around at the faces of her coworkers. Connie Gentry was gazing longingly at her immediate superior, Roger Daly, who had turned his earnest attention to Uncle Duke’s comfortable platitudes. Eileen could have told the secretary she yearned in vain. Daly was so squeaky-clean he practically shone. There was no chance he would get involved with his own assistant. Although it was probably just as well that he wouldn’t, because once a working relationship stepped over the line there was no telling what would happen next. Pity, in a way. Eileen’s gaze moved on. The tech support guy—did he have a name? Oh, yes, Kevin somebody—was laughing with the associates, but every now and then he threw a surreptitious glare at Duke’s secretary, Zoe Partlett. It was hard to guess what that was about. Eileen liked Zoe, who was a direct, no-nonsense sort of person. She continued to observe her coworkers, idly fascinated by the way the people seemed to clump themselves together into little pairs or groups, and then split again, like a giant amoeba. Her roaming gaze was snagged by Pender, who was smiling at her with his bedroom eyes at half-mast. Talk about lower life-forms. But that wasn’t fair of her, she decided—he was just trying to move ahead in his career, and as usual he was making use of his one infallible asset, his looks. But Eileen had no intention of becoming a stepping-stone for Pender’s ambitions. She squeezed Alex’s hand, and when he turned to look at her she smiled up at him like an ecstatic bride-to-be. His own smile held an answering warmth, and a bit of puzzlement. Good. A little bewilderment was good for him. No need to tell him she was doing it to keep Pender at bay. Uncle Duke had finally run out of prepared comments, and her mother was now brandishing a large kitchen-knife in an alarming way. It must be time to cut the cake. Eileen dropped Alex’s hand and moved forward, knowing that her mother was utterly hopeless when it came to cooking and serving food. Ann Sangazure’s strengths did not lie in the domestic sphere. As she reached for the knife, Jason Wells, Alex’s sorcerous pal, was handing out cups of coffee. Eileen’s heart skipped a beat. His friendly, crooked smile looked suddenly sinister. What would happen if she yelled out, “Don’t drink it, people, the coffee is bewitched!” Nothing, of course. Nobody would believe her. Witchcraft? In this day and age? Not only that, but if the sorcerer’s potion were harmful she and Alex were in an awkward position, having been present when the foreign substance was added to the coffee and taken no action to stop it.

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There was no getting around the facts. Eileen had made her choice, and now she had to stick with it. She had chosen to trust Alex, and she had chosen to believe the potion would do no harm. Pasting a bright smile on her face, Eileen began to cut and serve her cake. Her tension eased a little as she heard her mother scolding Uncle Duke for eating the cake with his fingers. At least some things were going as usual. Soon everyone had been provided with a slice. People were behaving normally, chatting and circulating among their colleagues. It was a typical Sangazure and Poindextre office party, a little stiff and dull but not unpleasant. Eileen sighed, relieved of a tension she hadn’t known she was feeling. She took a bite of her own slice of cake. Delicious. Or at would have been, if she could have tasted it. The end of the engagement party arrived when a few assistants began gathering up cups and plates. Duke and Ann had long since disappeared back into their offices, and most of the attorneys had drifted away. Alex grabbed Eileen by the hand, his eyes shining, and tugged her down the hall to his office full of battered old furniture. He would have run, if she’d let him. After giving her a vigorous hug, he released her and she sank into one of the mismatched client chairs. Alex began to pace his office, with Jason hovering like a misplaced shadow. “Guess we’re official now,” Alex said, grinning at her. “Isn’t it exciting?” Eileen warmed inside. They were official. “Yes, darling boy.” Suddenly, he knelt down beside her as she sat. “Listen. Jason just told me that he thinks everyone in the firm has drunk some of the coffee. In about an hour, we’ll start seeing the effects. Well, it might take a little longer for some, but everyone should show some signs of improvement in their behavior after two hours.” She blinked. Not their engagement. The coffee thing—he was excited about putting something in the coffee. She opened her mouth to protest, and then the meaning of his words sank in. “Everyone?” She hoped her voice didn’t sound shaky. “Yes, everyone,” Alex said. “Well, everyone except you and me.” “Oh.” He frowned. “Really, dear, I thought you’d be more excited about our first triumph.” Eileen grabbed a handful of his lapel. “Alex, you don’t really know what this is going to do to people. And you’ve given it to them without their consent.” “I know that it will help people to change for the better,” he insisted. “The point is to break down old, unconscious barriers, the prejudices that keep us from seeing others as they really are and accepting them as equals. It’s not going to hurt them. Why should I allow them to hurt themselves by refusing to take it?” 61

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She released him and glared up at Jason. “This is on your head. If this stuff you’re peddling hurts any one of these people, so help me, you’re going to pay for it.” “Relax,” the sorcerer replied. He gave her that too-friendly smile. “JWW Enterprises stands one hundred percent behind everything it sells. Trust me.” “I don’t,” she said. Alex cleared his throat. “Jason, can you give us a moment here?” “Absolutely, old fellow.” The sorcerer’s smile was undiminished. “I’ll just settle down in the lobby, shall I?” “Wonderful.” Alex clapped him on the back and then shut the office door behind him. Then he turned and faced her, and Eileen’s mouth went dry. He gazed at her, a long, passionate look that seemed to grapple her soul and pull it toward him. She tightened her hands on the chair arms. Instantly, he was on his knees beside her chair. “Eileen, you’re with me, aren’t you? You believe in me.” His look was so pleading. He was begging her for a little faith, reminding her of the promises she’d made just a few hours ago in their hotel room. It took all her effort to dredge up the words she needed to say. “Alex, you’re making a mistake. This whole potion idea is wrong.” Alex sat back on his heels, folded his arms across his chest. “I thought you were with me on this.” She shook her head. “Is that why you didn’t drink any of the coffee?” She found she could breathe again. “You haven’t either.” “I was waiting so we could drink it together.” God, he looked so hurt. She jumped out of the chair, wanted to get free, to be able to move and think for herself again. “I’m just not comfortable with it, that’s all.” Alex moved in closer, wrapping his arms around her. She felt the familiar, drugging warmth of his body—protective, exciting, distracting. She clung to him. “I know you’re scared, or let’s call it concerned. Don’t let those feelings get in the way of doing what’s right.” He ran one hand through her hair then cupped her face, gently raising her eyes to his. “Listen to me, Eileen. Being fair, being honest, treating everyone you meet with tolerance and respect! Don’t you want to be like that? Can you honestly say you always act that way now?” She froze in his arms. What was he suggesting? He wasn’t talking about the people in the firm anymore. “You mean, do I treat others with tolerance and respect?” “Well, you spoke pretty sharply to Jason just now.” She pulled herself free from his arms. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Jason is not an entirely trustworthy person.” 62

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“But if you were really tolerant—” She looked at him for a long moment. “Maybe I’m not. But I thought you loved me the way I am. If you don’t think I can be fair and respectful and—whatever else— without taking some weird drug, then maybe you don’t really love me.” He stopped. Her words hung heavy in the space between them. More words were crowding up behind her lips, angry words, confused words. He stood very still, breathing deeply and slowly, the way he always did when trying to control some strong emotion. “I do love you. And I thought you loved me, too. But if you can’t trust me in this, if you really aren’t with me on this, then maybe you don’t really love me.” The silence between them lengthened. Eileen couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the hurt in his eyes, the thought that everything good between them was crumbling to nothing, all because of this one stupid thing. But she couldn’t do what he asked. Taking a potion to make oneself a better person just didn’t feel right. And taking it to prove her love—that was a deal-breaker. Finally she stepped back. “I’m sorry, Alex.” She meant to walk away with dignity. But her eyes felt prickly and hot, and she knew she’d better walk faster or she’d never make it to her office.

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Chapter Six She didn’t get far. Just after she turned the corner someone walked straight into her, driving the breath out of her lungs. “Whoops! Guess I didn’t see you there.” A male voice gave one of those nervous chuckles as they sorted themselves out, untangled their limbs. “Um, are you all right?” Roger Daly peered at her anxiously, his earnest face concerned. He was so shy. She could tell by the way he fiddled with his Block O tie. Eileen choked out a little laugh. At least Roger wouldn’t ask her any awkward questions. He was a good guy, and a good lawyer, but it was amazing how nervous he got around women. He wasn’t bad looking, either, which made it something of a minor mystery that he hadn’t yet been corralled by some enterprising female. “I’m fine. Just a little—um, a little emotional. You know how it is.” Most men wouldn’t want to know why some female acquaintance was all weepy. With any luck, Daly would feel the same way. But her luck was shit today. His hand curled around her elbow. “You’re crying. Can I get someone for you? Your mother, perhaps?” That startled her. “My mother? What for?” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Just someone who can help you more than I can.” “Don’t worry about me.” She took a breath and smiled. “Just a case of pre-wedding jitters. Let me catch my breath and I’ll be fine.” “No problem,” he assured her. Heroically, he added, “If you need someone to talk to, I would be happy to listen.” She patted his arm. “Thanks, Roger. It’s nothing serious. Alex and I just had—had a difference of opinion on a rather touchy subject. We’ll get it sorted out.” “Good girl,” he said approvingly, as if he were a hundred years older than her. “Alex is a good man, and I’m sure he’ll come around.” He was an odd character. She studied him. “What about you, Roger?” “Me?” She was not quite sure what she wanted to know. To give herself some time to think, she joked, “Do you always handle weepy females as smoothly as you’ve handled me? I bet you and your lady friend never disagree on anything.” He blushed bright red. Curiouser and curiouser. “No, I-I’m afraid I’m not as smooth as you think me. I don’t have a-a lady friend, if you are implying what I think

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you mean,” he said, and gave a rather shrill little laugh. “I’m too old for that sort of thing.” “You’re not old at all,” she said, surprised. He waved a hand. “Oh, well, that’s enough about me. I’m just glad to see you’re feeling better.” “Thanks to you.” It was fun to watch him turn all pink and clumsy. He was cute. “And I don’t know what’s wrong with the women that you date. If I weren’t engaged to Alex, I’d snap you up in a New York minute.” “Oh, well, ha ha. You’re too kind.” He was so anxious to escape their conversation he was practically dancing. She shouldn’t tease the poor guy. She watched with detached interest as he spun away from her and hurried down the hallway. Then she shook her head. Someone ought to give that man a blow job. Jason looked around at the Persian carpets and abstract art. The law office reception area was quiet and dignified and just now it was deserted. That made sense. In order for any potion to work, the affected individuals—rather moldy to call them “victims”— had to have fallen asleep for at least an hour. He settled in to wait, jiggling his foot to keep from falling asleep himself. It was a bit too quiet, and the leather wing chair he presently occupied had been placed in a far corner, the perfect vantage point from which to watch the results of the spell he’d cast. But it wouldn’t do for him to fall under the same spell. Best that he should stay awake. Besides, he wanted to know how this one would turn out. Sales had been a bit languid in Potions lately. Ah, in the good old days, all he’d had to do was show a prospect his card, explain what his products could do for them, and he was in. The love potions had practically sold themselves. Curses, too—but then, curses had been the firm’s cash cow for millennia. You could always find someone who could use a good curse. It was Jason’s hard luck that he got switched back to potions just when he was practically coining money selling curses. Now he was stuck there, at least until the Senior Manager in charge of Curses got transferred or left the firm. Bloody hell. Nobody wanted love potions anymore. Why use a love potion when there were “friends with benefits”? The other Account Executives in Potions had been there so long they didn’t see the handwriting on the wall, but he did. So when Ari from R&D announced a new line of products, Jason had been as keen as mustard on the whole concept. He had big plans for the new product line. He was going to open up a whole new market in respect and civility. People were always complaining about how rude shopkeepers were nowadays. And telephone customer relations personnel—say no more. The possibilities were endless. Endless, that is, assuming this Philios potion actually worked. That was the fly in the ointment here. Nobody really knew if it did work. The VP of R&D—timid little pantywaist—was still fussing over completing final tests and 65

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compiling data, but the preliminary report had been very positive. Jason was certain this product would be a huge seller. So he’d gone to right to the top, explained all about Poindextre and Sangazure, LLP and what they were looking for. He’d banged on about it no end, really thrown his heart into the presentation. Damn it, he’d even got tears in his eyes. But the word came down, “No, it’s not ready. No large-scale tests have been performed.” In vain he’d argued that this could be the large-scale test. No, no, no, all around. So right before getting on the plane for the States, he’d snuck into the R&D lab and taken a few samples. He had labeled the test tubes according to what had been marked on each tray, and he hoped like hell he’d gotten them right. No, that was defeatist thinking—of course he’d got it right. This was going to work. And now he had a front-row seat from which to witness the success of his boldest and craziest gig yet. He crossed his fingers and waited. After a while, the elevator bell dinged, and a male courier strode through the plate glass double doors and walked up to the ersatz-Chippendale reception desk. He looked down at the receptionist, who was sleeping with her head pillowed on her arms. Jason drew back into the concealment of the wing chair. He couldn’t watch what was going on, but at least he could hear them. “Naptime’s over, Grace,” the courier said. “Got a package for you.” The receptionist’s voice sounded sleepy and soft. “Well, hello there.” A thump followed, as of a package hitting the desk top. “Your bosses let you sleep on the job? Must be nice.” “Hey, maybe I’m still asleep, and dreaming. Come on over and pinch me.” “Ha, ha.” The courier’s laugh sounded skeptical. “Maybe you ought to fall asleep more often. You’re a lot nicer once you’ve gotten some rest.” It worked. Jason smiled, savoring the sweet moment. He was a genius. He was a wide boy, on the brink of overnight success. He could imagine the praise, the promotion, the award sex from hot babes. Maybe even, sometime in the twilight of his soon-to-be illustrious career, a knighthood. Sir Jason Wellington Wells, Sorcerer and savior of civilization as we know it. The queen was telling Jason what an amazingly good fellow he was when the courier’s voice rudely intruded. “Well, see ya.” “Oh, don’t go so soon,” the receptionist protested. Jason heard the quick click of her high heels on the marble floor. “Could you come here a minute? I need you.” “I don’t know,” the courier began. “Please?” the receptionist begged, and their voices faded until the disappeared with the slam of a door. Jason smiled. It worked like a charm. Well, like a charm was supposed to work, anyway. Charms were tricky little buggers and nobody ever seemed to get them quite right. Like perfume, some people always overdid the amount. But the Philios potion

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was just right. And he’d been a witness. Grace, who had probably been a snappish little bitch of a receptionist before drinking the potion-infused coffee, had been friendly and welcoming to that courier. He sighed with pleasure, and stretched out his legs. Sometimes when things went right, it was just like magic. Jason stood up. It was time to visit Alex. He would be thrilled to hear about this. As he moved down the hall, he heard the scurrying of feet behind him and the sound of someone hitting the elevator call button repeatedly. Some people are always in a hurry, he thought. As he’d expected, Alex was over the moon. “It’s working. It’s really working! A little while ago I saw John Best, our Wills and Trusts paralegal, smiling and chatting with Eileen’s secretary Miranda. Those two have been feuding for years. This is a miracle drug.” “Just happy you’re happy,” Jason said. He rested one thigh on the battered old scrap of furniture Alex used as a desk and grinned at the satisfied client. “How long does it last?” Alex asked. Jason thought hard. What had that damn brochure said? Eureka! A sentence surfaced from his memory. The effect of the potion varies from person to person, depending upon their height and weight and the amount ingested. Another scrap of information rose up out of the murk. The potion creates a bond between the subject and the first unattached person of the opposite gender seen upon awakening, similar to Potion #03, with notable differences as described in Subsection….whatever. That must have been where it said that the potion was about friendliness and tolerance. “There’s not a specific time limitation, but the potion helps the subject become, let us say, less prejudiced toward a single person or perhaps at most a couple of people, not toward people in general.” That sounded good. And after all, what was “a bond” if not a kind of friendship? Alex rubbed his hands. “Then we’ll probably need more, for repeated doses when new people are hired. God, this stuff could do wonders in union negotiations.” Jason’s smile broadened. The future was so bright, he was going to need shades. For a moment after her eyes opened, Connie didn’t know where she was. The strange green tweed-covered couch she was lying on, the empty room, the weird fluorescent lighting—what had happened to her? A glance down showed she was still wearing the magenta skirt and pink blouse she’d worn to work. She sat up and blinked. The dripping sound of leaky faucet came to her, along with the realization that she was in the ladies’ room at the office—the fancy one with a sofa in the lounge area, near the big conference room. What a relief.

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Then bits and pieces started to come back to her—lunch with Zoe, her crazy decision to ask Roger out. She cringed. He’d been nice about it, sure, but she should have known better than to ask. And then the party for Eileen and Alex. The party had been rough—the engaged couple were so perfect together, and so perfectly happy. They would never have anything to worry about. It had taken all her willpower not to look at Roger, not to act as broken-hearted as she felt. Of course she had looked. Roger hadn’t even noticed her. He had been his usual cheerful self, which had just made Connie feel worse. All that stress had just worn her out, so she’d lain down for a minute or two before going back to her desk. Oh, no, what time was it now? The hands on her wristwatch pointed to five-thirty, she’d been asleep for at least an hour. She hurried out of the restroom and down the hall toward her desk. After a few steps, she slowed down. What if Roger was still there in his office when she got to her desk? What if he demanded to know where she’d been all this time? She ducked past Zoe’s desk, not looking to see if her friend were there. Everything was quiet, maybe Zoe had left early. How she dared to do something like that, when she had a boss like Mr. Poindextre, Connie couldn’t imagine. The way he shouted at Ms. Sangazure was terrifying—and they were partners, for Pete’s sake! Their loud voices and angry, threatening faces frightened Connie, even though everyone said it meant nothing. She was happier where she was—well, she had been happy where she was. Now she didn’t know. At any rate, she was sure the gruff old attorney would not be pleased to discover that his executive assistant had begun her weekend early. But what if Zoe had fallen asleep like she had done? Zoe didn’t deserve to get yelled at. Waking her up was the right thing to do. Connie drew in a breath. “Zoe?” she murmured over the partition. No response. Just then, the door to Mr. Poindextre’s office opened. He looked out, blinking, with a dazed expression on his face. “Ann, is that you?” “No, sir, it’s me, Connie,” she said, backing away. Her brain was sending urgent messages to her legs to get her ass out of there before the shouting began. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that she was heading toward the elevators as she sidled away from her friend’s boss. She watched him cautiously as she retreated. His hair was standing on end, and his usually immaculate white dress shirt was rumpled. He looked as if he’d just woken up. Connie frowned. Was everybody sleeping? What was going on? Mr. Poindextre’s surprisingly blue eyes fixed on her, then softened in astonishment and pleasure. “Connie,” he whispered. He stretched out one hand to her, palm up, begging her to come to him.

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She stopped. She stared at him, her heart knocking in her chest. He looked different, somehow. He looked—cute. Kind of sexy. Her stomach did the same pitch-and-roll thing it had done when she’d let Zoe talk her into that skydiving lesson. This was crazy. Considering that Mr. Poindextre was about as cute as a rabid Tyrannosaurus Rex, she must be nuts to be thinking—what she was thinking. “I’m sorry, I have to— I’m going now,” Connie babbled. She took a step and found herself moving closer to him on trembling, rubbery legs. “My dear Connie,” he said. The rough sound of his voice thrilled something deep inside her. She drew in a quick breath, suddenly swamped by a weird mixture of dread and excitement. The logical part of her brain was shouting, It’s Mr. Poindextre, for Pete’s sake. She wasn’t listening. Was this what it felt like when a person felt Love At First Sight? Of course, she had seen Mr. Poindextre before, but this time it was different. His thick, muscular body emanated an aura of masculinity and power. The silver hair and blunted features gave him a craggy authority, and his blue eyes were filled with piercing intelligence. He advanced, his eyes fixed on her. Intent. Devouring. Everything about him spoke of a strong will, tightly leashed. And all that raw, masculine power was focused on her. She could see in his eyes that he wanted her. Desired her. Meant to have her. She was terrified. And yet… Nobody had ever wanted her like this before. It was always, lose five more pounds, wear better clothes, be smarter, be richer, be more than you are right now. Nobody had ever found her desirable just as she was, right now, with no alterations, no exchanges, and no refunds. Until this moment. Joy slammed through her, trailing a wake of giddy exaltation. At last, Romance had found her. Unexpected, but here it was—and Connie wasn’t going to let it go. Nothing was going to mess up this opportunity. Her most romantic dreams were about to come true. “Mr. Poindextre,” she breathed. “Duke,” he corrected her. His big hand reached out for hers, and without thinking, she took it. His touch went through her like a lightning bolt. Cascades of shimmering energy poured through her body and pooled deep in her belly. She went willingly as he pulled her into his office. The city and sky outside the huge windows were reflected in the enormous polished walnut desk, and she was freefalling through that big, empty sky.

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Chapter Seven Roger was swimming as fast as he could. His arms stroked powerfully through the seawater. He kicked with all his strength. But he wasn’t fast enough, and the dark form sliding under the water was gaining on him. He tasted salt as he gasped in each precious breath. His muscles were burning, his head was pounding, and he knew he’d never get away from her. He woke up with a gasp in his own office. His head felt sore, which wasn’t surprising because he’d fallen asleep with his head resting on his desk. Right in the center of his leather-edged blotter. His eyes were gritty and his mouth was dry. He massaged his temples and tried to get a grip. He never fell asleep at his desk. It was inexplicable—especially since he’d even had a cup of coffee at the engagement party, which he never did in the afternoons because caffeine always kept him up too late at night. He glanced at his desk clock—it had an attractive brass case with a strip of the same leather that adorned his blotter. It showed that only an hour had passed since he’d attended the office party for Alex Poindextre and Eileen Sangazure. Odd. Very odd. The last thing he could remember was thinking how good his secretary Connie looked in her magenta skirt. He wished he’d taken her up on her offer to spend some time together. Maybe she was genuinely interested in him. Surely it could happen. He wasn’t unhealthy, or grossly disfigured or anything. So what if he was a bit older than she was? Eileen Sangazure had certainly seemed interested in him. Interested, that is, with that predatory look that some women seemed to get in their eyes when they asked probing questions about “his wife” or “his girlfriend”. Nothing turned him off faster. Roger sighed. Connie wasn’t interested in him that way. He thought about her neat little ankles, and her curvy legs disappearing up beyond the hem of that tight magenta skirt. Her hips were pleasantly round, and her ass was generous but firm looking. Like a peach, he thought, round and rosy and cleft down the middle. He shifted uncomfortably in his executive office chair. And those divine breasts, like big, round fruit, with their taut little nipples at attention, brushing seductively against the demure pink fabric of her blouse. Restless, he stood. Then looking down he realized he’d better sit down again. He had an erection that would be difficult to hide. Sitting proved intolerable, so he jumped to his feet again.

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Indecision warred in his usually peaceful soul. He couldn’t just sit and think about Connie’s ass and Connie’s breasts anymore. He wanted to go and find them—well, her—and tell her that he would like nothing better than to get to know her, go on a date, do anything possible to be with her as much as possible. He would gladly bask in the warm glow of her presence, content to smell her perfume and sit beside her in a movie theater, where he might accidentally-on-purpose rub his heated, depraved thigh against her innocent magenta-covered one. But she was his coworker! His secretary! A colleague, someone who trusted him to act in a responsible and decorous manner! Could he really be contemplating the violation of a lifetime of sensible rules just for the purpose of slaking his undisciplined and reprehensible lust? Well, in a word, yes. Roger stood up and let his unruly legs carry him out the door of his office. He was going to find Connie and then…do what came naturally. He could figure it out as he went along. On the way out the door, he grabbed a manila file folder and held it casually in front of his bulging trouser fly. Duke blinked, dazed. For a moment he’d thought that he was walking into his office hand-in-hand with that silly little secretary of Daly’s. Evidently his brain was on vacation and his fantasies were working overtime. He felt a tug on his hand. Good god, he was hand-in-hand with that brainless blonde. Her warm amber-brown eyes shone gently at him, her soft little hand was tucked confidingly in his. She was a fantasy of soft, pillowy flesh, from her ripe lips to her generous breasts and full hips. A man could dive into that softness, wallow in it, lose himself in the comforting warmth. He pulled her into his arms. “Wait,” she commanded, pushing him away. She ducked her head coyly. “Don’t you think we should talk a little bit first?” He looked down at her pink cheeks and restrained himself with an effort. “Talk about what?” She hitched her shoulders up, causing interesting tremors in her impressive frontage. “I don’t know. Just—just talk about things.” Duke gritted his teeth. It had been a long time since he’d been a teenager, and he was not delighted to become reacquainted with the unpleasant combination of uncontrollable lust and awkward social rules. He sat down on the leather sofa at the far end of his office and patted the cushion next to him. Perhaps sitting would help to hide the erection that was already straining at his trousers. “Certainly, my dear. I’d be delighted to talk for a while. You go first.” Instead of sitting beside him, she walked over to the window, and stood shifting from foot to foot. “Okay. Um, well, I saw this movie once, where the heroine never ever thought she would fall in love but then the hero kissed her, you know, and she looked up and there was this big rainbow in the sky right over their heads, and these birds 71

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were singing and they both knew it was love.” She sighed. “Do you remember that one?” “No.” Duke frowned, trying to sort out the facts she’d related. Didn’t sound like any movie he would want to see. “It’s like everything in the world turns sparkly and bright around them,” she explained. Duke gave up. “Um. Sounds very—well. Be that as it may, I’m afraid I don’t recognize it. Why do you mention it?” She looked earnestly at him. “Well, I guess that’s kind of like us, you know?” Duke was conscious of a buzzing in his brain that was making it hard to concentrate. He really didn’t want to talk anyway. He jumped up and walked over to stand beside her, his hands in his pockets. “Us. What a charming sentiment.” She sidled away from him, blushing. Her eyelashes were fluttering over her cheeks in a charming way. “I mean, this is really sudden, you know?” “No doubt, but stranger things have happened.” Teeth clenched, Duke smiled at her. He moved in, put his hand on her shoulder and let it slide down to her elbow. She was nibbling on her lower lip. “What I want to know is, how do you really feel about me?” Duke thought fast. It had been a long time since he’d tried to talk a female into his bed. Once upon a time he’d had a line of talk that had worked like a charm, but damned if he could remember it now. Some combination of flattery, poetry, and begging, no doubt. “My dear, you are a beautiful, delightful, and desirable woman,” he began. She perked up. So far so good. He moved his hand around to the small of her back. He made an attempt at playfulness. “Or are you just leading me on?” My, but the girl was pretty when she pinked up like that. Her eyes were downcast, too, and her eyelashes—spiky and black with some sort of cosmetic—swept over her rounded cheeks. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lead anyone on.” “Then what is the matter?” he demanded. “I’m not sure.” She gazed out the window at the cloudy afternoon sky. A rainstorm had passed through to the south, making a distinct contrast to the bright blue patches of sky to the north. Duke kept track of the weather by habit. His grandfather had been a farmer, and the weather was always a safe topic of conversation. One always got into the habit of noticing the weather. She sighed. “I guess I always knew my prince would come someday. But—well, I bet you’ll think this is silly.” She looked up at him with a nervous giggle, her soft eyes big and pleading for understanding. “Not at all,” Duke replied. He inched a bit closer, draping his arm casually around her shoulders. He tried to look interested instead of lustful. 72

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She ducked her head. “Well, I thought—I really thought—that my knight in shining armor would really be in armor, and riding a big white horse, you know? Kind of silly, I guess.” He gave her a casual-seeming hug. Her shoulder, under its soft pink blouse, was impossibly soft and infinitely touchable. He smiled indulgently. “Well, I certainly wish I had a prancing destrier and a suit of armor, just to please you, my dear.” Her eyes were round with amazement. “You’d do something like that for me?” “Naturally.” It was an easy lie. Good thing there was no chance in hell that he’d ever run across such a ridiculous get-up in practical and unimaginative central Ohio. He gave her a squeeze, and then chucked her under the chin with his free hand. “You’re a romantic.” She sighed again, and gently freed herself from his arms. “Yeah. I can’t help it, I guess.” Duke watched her and inwardly cursed his clumsiness. Damn. Back to square one. He racked his brain for a syrupy compliment. Nothing. “Oh, look, a rainbow!” Connie jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “It’s so beautiful.” Duke went to stand behind her. “Very nice.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Have you ever seen the unicorns at the end of the rainbow?” She sounded breathless. Duke frowned. “Unicorns?” She smiled up at him. “That’s how the unicorns get down to earth, they walk down the rainbow,” she explained. “Most people think that there’s a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, but really it’s just the one sure place you can find a real unicorn. Gosh, I used to drive all over, chasing the rainbow and looking for unicorns. But sometimes all I could find were the little jewels that marked where their sweet little hooves had treaded. They’re diamonds, but they are magical jewels that melt into raindrops the minute they touch the ground.” “Oh.” Duke concentrated on not mentioning that if she wanted to use a verb like “to tread”, she at least ought to use it correctly. She turned to face him. “But I bet you don’t believe that, do you?” He shrugged. “Well—” He caught himself, and drew in a breath. “What matters is that it is your idea, my dear.” “What the—the hell is going on here?” yelled a man’s voice. Duke’s frustration nearly boiled over. Damn it all, couldn’t a man have a little privacy in his own office? Duke swiveled around, pushing Connie behind him. He found himself facing Roger Daly. The associate stood in the doorway. His eyes were practically popping out of his head. “Connie?” 73

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“R-Roger?” she stuttered. Duke kept one arm around her shoulder as he glared at the other attorney. “Daly, what do you mean by this interruption?” Roger gulped and licked his lips. Duke could feel Connie straighten up. Her chin jutted out. “Did you have something to say, Mr. Daly?” Her tone of voice had changed, gotten harder and more aggressive. Duke had a bad feeling about this. Roger gazed hungrily at her, as if his eyes could burn holes right through her clothes. Duke glared at the man, wishing he could rip his eyeballs out. “Yes.” Roger choked out. “If this is what you really want. I only want your happiness.” “Oh, really?” Connie’s cheeks were pink. “I had no idea that’s what you wanted, Mr. Daly. None at all.” “Well, thanks for stopping by, Daly,” Duke said heartily. “See you around.” Duke hoped the man would get the hint and get the hell out of his office. But Roger kept standing there, face red and eyes bulging, shaking like a two-cylinder engine run at a hundred thousand rpm. Finally Roger burst out, “But he’s older than I am!” “So?” demanded Duke. “Age doesn’t matter,” Connie said. “I never cared how old you were.” “Of course you did! Anyone would!” Roger said wildly. “But I would have done anything for you. I would have asked for nothing more than to carry you off on my white charger!” “Oh,” squeaked Connie. “You drive a white Charger? Nice car,” Duke said. “Or it used to be, before Dodge turned it into a sedan.”“ “Forget it!” Roger said. “I will never mention this again.” “Suit yourself. But if you’re ever thinking of selling the Charger, let me take a look at it first.” “Oh, Roger,” Connie said softly. There was an exalted look in her eyes. “How I wish—but it’s too late now. Please-please go.” “Yes,” Roger muttered. He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Yes, I’m going.” But instead of leaving, he stood and stared at them. “Goodbye,” growled Duke. Connie made a little sound between a hiccup and a sigh. Just when Roger’s unblinking stare began to make Duke’s eyes water, the contracts lawyer turned on his heel and marched out. “Finally,” Duke said. “Can’t imagine what was wrong with the fellow.”

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He swung a somewhat limp Connie into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. The relief of finally holding her was tremendous. Almost enough to put up with unicorns and rainbows and god knew what else. Connie’s nerves were as tight as violin strings. She had never felt so jumpy before, never so confused about what she wanted and what she was feeling. She knew that Mr.—well, Duke, he’d asked her to call him Duke—scared her to death, so why was she so attracted to him? She should be running for the hills. But then everything had changed so fast. But what were the odds of this happening? Connie knew she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she could definitely tell that something weird was going on. She pulled away from Duke. “I hate to bring this up, but I definitely think that something weird is going on. I mean, what are the odds of you and me—well, you know. It’s crazy.” “You and I, dear child.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “What?” she asked finally. “What are the odds of you and I finding ourselves in a romantic relationship.” He reached for her hand, but she stepped out of reach. “Well, that’s what I’m talking about.” They really were nothing alike. But that still didn’t stop her from quivering inside when he spoke, or feeling the liquid fire pool in her belly when he looked deep into her eyes. And that wasn’t normal. “What are the odds?” His eyes narrowed. “Hmm. You are right. It is unaccountable. But be that as it may, a relationship has developed between us and we must accept the situation as it is.” “Yeah, but this morning I was too scared to even talk to you. You just made me all scared and nervous, and I just knew I’d look like a total idiot the minute I opened my mouth. So I made sure not to be around you too much. You know?” “Hmm. I don’t recall noticing that.” He moved fast, grabbing her hand, and led her to the leather sofa. “I wasn’t there, that’s why you didn’t notice,” she explained. “And then this afternoon, I’m up here looking for Zoe, you open the door and bam, all of a sudden—” He sat down, and pulled her down beside him. So far she’d been able to handle him, but her own feelings were making it difficult for her to resist. She could see the desire in his eyes. It warmed her and frightened her a little. “I take your point,” he said thoughtfully, stretching one arm along the back of the sofa. “However, perhaps because we had never previously spent any time together, our love—if I may so call it—never had a chance to blossom. Suffice it to say that today it did.” “You mean that you don’t think this is weird?”

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He put his free hand on her shoulder, turning her so that they were facing one another. “My dear, you are lovely in every respect.” “Thanks,” Connie said, awed. She leaned toward him. Then her annoying conscience kicked in again. She scrambled free and stood up. “But—” Duke got to his feet. “Of course, Roger Daly, your immediate supervisor, has often noted how capable and efficient you are in your work. In fact, he has so often sung your praises that I believe he rather has a tendresse for you. But as they say in the vernacular,” he added as he pinched her chin, “he who snoozes, loses.” A wicked stab of disappointment pierced Connie’s heart. Roger Daly liked her. Duke even thought Roger had a crush on her. She felt tears of frustration prickle her eyes. Why couldn’t this crazy love have happened with Roger, instead of with Duke Poindextre? Duke was gathering her into his arms. “Therefore, in consideration of all these things, I think it would be only right and proper for us to be married right away,” Duke was saying. A jolt of dread ran through her. “Right away?” “The sooner the better.” Duke patted her some more then put both his arms around her and hugged her close. She let him, but her mind was racing. She would have to change Duke’s mind somehow. This whole thing was just too weird. “But is it love?” she asked Duke plaintively. Those big caramel-colored eyes gazed into his. That stopped him. Was it love? Love was—love was—well, how the hell was he supposed to know? He was a bachelor, for god’s sake. And why should it matter? Couldn’t their mutual attraction be enough? A lifetime of verbal sparring came to his aid. “How should a man show his love for you, my dear?” he asked, doing his best to look soulful as he coaxed her back onto the sofa. With any luck, he might even get her horizontal. “Tell me about it.” Duke kept patting her hands mechanically, willing himself not to shout. He kept his smile in place with an effort. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering marrying Connie. But of course he would have to—certain parts of his anatomy were demanding action, and marriage looked like the only way to get what he wanted. He only hoped that Ann wasn’t going to march in on the two of them, before he had time to prepare her for the change in circumstances. Of course, Ann herself expected him to find a sweet and yielding young bride. Hasn’t she said so just today? But he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t be pleased. Enraged, in fact. She would be infuriated if she found he’d gone and changed the status quo without telling her. 76

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Or would she? Maybe he was reading too much into the situation. Maybe he had wanted Ann for so long that he expected her to return his feelings. At least in some measure. What if she actually didn’t? What if he had stubbornly clung to an idea for so long that it had become real to him, when it wasn’t real to anyone else? Maybe he should be grateful for the bird in his hand. “Well, I don’t know,” the bird replied seriously. She sat down a little farther away than he would have liked. “I know guys don’t always talk about things. But I always thought a guy would really show me how he felt, you know, like by being a knight in shining armor, or punching someone’s lights out for me, or maybe just kneeling down and asking for my hand in marriage.” She twirled a strand of shining golden hair around her finger. “But I guess that’s silly.” Duke agreed with that. But the insistent throbbing between his legs told him that he’d be in a bad way if he didn’t do whatever it took to get the job done. Romantic she wanted, so romantic she would get. He dropped onto one knee, trying not to wince as his kneecap made hard contact with the floor beneath the thin carpet. He took one of her hands in his. “My dear, what I feel for you cannot be denied. I want you more than I can say. Please do me the honor,” he had to pause and take a breath. “Do me the honor of becoming my wife.” He couldn’t believe he was actually saying those words. Lust had clearly driven him insane. He made a mental note to himself that if the girl said yes, he could always get out of it by pleading diminished capacity. “Oh, Duke,” she sighed. “That was so beautiful.” This was a disaster. His knee seemed glued to the floor. Since he couldn’t get up, he would have to pull her down to him. Maybe he could get her to lie down here on the floor. It wouldn’t be as comfortable as the couch, but much more doable. “Come here to me, my love.” He tightened his grip on Connie’s hand. After having dished out more syrupy compliments in one half-hour than he’d ever given in his entire life, not to mention recklessly committing himself to marriage, Duke expected a little more cooperation from his intended bride. “Oh, Duke, I just don’t know,” wailed Connie. “Damn it—that is, don’t be silly, my dear,” Duke said, gritting his teeth and holding onto his temper. What was wrong with the creature—girl—that is, woman? He gathered both of Connie’s soft little hands into his. They were beautiful hands. “What is there for you to cavil at?” She frowned. “What is there for me to what at?” “We are getting married, are we not?” “I really—”

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Duke’s body was screaming at him that he’d been patient enough. Need was driving him crazy. Finally, after all this useless palaver and listening to ridiculous and maudlin fantasies, finally, he would get a kiss. “Alley-oop, my little one,” he said jovially, and gave her hands a sharp tug. The soft, slippery leather of the couch offered no resistance as Connie slid forward. “Oh, no!” she shrieked. She leaned as far back as she could, but gravity took hold and pulled her down. Her heels skidded on the carpet, one leg on either side of Duke’s kneeling form. Somehow, she twisted as she slid off the couch and down to the floor. Her ass hit first, then her torso flopped back and her head hit the ground with an audible thump. She cradled her head in her hands and groaned. As she fell, Connie’s knees collided with Duke’s thigh, knocking him off-balance. He sprawled forward, landing on top of her between her wide-spread legs. “Oof,” he said. Her breath was coming in gasping whoops interspersed with groans. Duke’s knee, already throbbing from its earlier sharp contact with the floor, was now competing with his thigh and one elbow for the title of Most Painful Body Part. His own low moan of pain joined Connie’s as they lay tangled together on the floor. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Duke’s neck stood up. With a horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach, he sensed that Connie and he weren’t alone. He craned his neck, lifting himself onto his one good arm to see over the sofa toward the door. A dark shadow loomed in the doorway, confirming his first fears. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes. Maybe it was Roger Daly, come back to argue over Connie again. No—the figure in the doorway was too small to be Daly. It was—it was— Duke froze. Of all the times to walk into all the offices in all the world, she had to walk into his, now. Heart filled with dread, he sat up onto his knees. Ann Sangazure stood in the doorway to his office, disbelief and disgust written plainly on her face. Her eyes shot out laser beams of fury directly at him. “You bastard.” Then she was gone. “Ugh.” Zoe blinked and sat up. She rubbed her cheek, which was sore from being pressed into the blotter on her desk. How could she have fallen asleep at her desk? She never did that. Never, ever. At least the office outside her door was quiet—she couldn’t hear anyone walking around, or any ringing phones. She sighed, glad that she didn’t have witnesses to her lapse in good office form. She fished a hand mirror and comb from her purse. One glance showed her that it would take more than a quick comb-though to set her to rights. She flung herself into the ladies room, scrabbled through her purse for the necessary tools, and made some speedy repairs. Calmed and steadied, she poked her head back out. 78

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The lights were on, but the halls were eerily empty and hushed. No people roamed the corridors. No tapping at keyboards, no muted voices chattering on telephones, no file drawers sliding open and shut. Where was everyone? It was weird that she had fallen asleep at her desk, but it wasn’t as if the entire staff could all fall asleep as well. Maybe Mr. Poindextre had decided to let everyone go home early after his nephew’s engagement party. She could have missed hearing the announcement because she’d been napping. Some giggling from the Wills and Trusts offices down the hall reassured her that she wasn’t alone, at any rate. She trotted over and stuck her head in to ask what was going on, but what she saw made the words die in her throat. Eileen Sangazure’s motherly assistant Miranda was passionately kissing John Best, and running her hands through the sparse gray hair on the sides of his head. He was a paralegal in Wills and Trusts, an antiquated old gent with thick glasses and a timid, rabbity manner. At the moment, he was demonstrating another quality that rabbits were known for. He’d unbuttoned Miranda’s sensible blouse, revealing a sturdy white underwire bra. One busy hand was working at the bra hooks behind her back, while the other was tugging the hem of her modest tweed skirt up to the tops of her thighs. Zoe pulled back, her cheeks blazing with embarrassment. Miranda and John? She thought they hated each other. Who would have ever guessed they were—well, she didn’t want that picture in her mind. Whatever people did in private was all right with her, but it wasn’t what she was used to seeing in the office. Wait until Connie heard about it, though. She would be shocked. Zoe couldn’t wait to see her astonished expression and hear her laughing in horrified delight. The things people got up to. She returned to the small suite where Connie’s desk sat outside Roger Daly’s office. Connie wasn’t at her desk. The door to Roger’s office was shut, but all Zoe could hear from inside were snores. Maybe there had been something in the coffee—something that put everyone to sleep, instead of waking them up. Zoe walked slowly back to her desk. People falling asleep in the middle of the day, older people making out like horny teenagers—An excited feminine shriek made her look up in time to see a female member of the custodial staff, naked except for the white plastic garbage bag she was holding across her front, sprint by. One of the attorneys from Litigation followed in hot pursuit, wearing a crisp striped shirt and rep tie, but no trousers. Bemusedly, Zoe leaned her elbows on her desk and watched them as they disappeared around the corner. Somehow she’d always known that lawyer—Chad somebody—would wear light blue boxers. He was an attractive man. It might be nice to take off that perfect shirt, and run her fingers over what she had no doubt was a perfect chest, with six-pack abs and a light golden tan. Heck, at this point, she wouldn’t mind kissing old John Best. He certainly had seemed to know his way around a woman’s clothing.

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Zoe sighed. It had been a long, lonely time. Eileen paced around her office, not seeing the carefully chosen colors and tasteful arrangements which the designer said would make her feel as if she were on vacation even while she was at work. She’d slaved to build herself the perfect life. Upwardly mobile career, handsome and successful fiancé, everything had been on track until that Jason person had shown up. Alex had been completely won over by the smarmy salesman, and now he was believing all sorts of hocus-pocus. As if magic could change the world. Nobody could have everything—there was always a trade-off, and that was true at S&P as well. If you wanted to earn good money, you had to put up with boring work and unpleasant coworkers. But if you wanted the kind of job satisfaction that came from, say, creating a perfectly divine croquembuche, you had better expect to earn a lot less. But Alex refused to believe that, and now their future together was hanging by a thread. The best thing Eileen could hope for was that the sorcery thing was all a fraud, because if there had actually been anything harmful in that so-called potion, she would be in just as much trouble as Alex. Imagine the lawsuits they would face if everyone in the firm got sick. Her mind shuddered away from that thought. No, it must have been harmless. Jason had poured it down his own throat, and he wouldn’t have done that if… Stop it. She couldn’t go on like this. She paced back to her phone and punched in Alex’s extension. He picked up. “Do you have any idea what effect this stuff is going to have?” she demanded. “The preliminary reports are good. Better than that—amazing.” He sounded triumphant. “Jason says that Grace, the receptionist, was friendly and welcoming to a courier. You know how she usually acts.” Eileen’s heart sank. “Jason is there with you?” “Don’t you see? It’s working! The people who drank the coffee are waking up to a new way of being—they’re friendlier, more tolerant, nicer people!” “What do you mean, waking up?” “Literally that,” Alex said. She could hear how pumped he was. “If you recall what Jason said, the potion makes you fall asleep for a little while and when you wake up you’ve got a new attitude. And it works!” “You mean everyone is asleep? For how long?” The skin on the back of her neck was prickling. If the stuff actually made people fall asleep, then it wasn’t completely harmless. “Oh, depends on how much coffee they drank, body size, that sort of thing,” Alex said airily. “It varies.”

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The plastic ridges on the telephone receiver were biting into Eileen’s palm. Striving for calm, she loosened her grip finger by finger. “Maybe people around here just need a nap. They’ve been too sleep-deprived to be pleasant. That’s all it is.” “No, it’s really working. I’ve seen it. You know how your secretary has been feuding with John Best, that paralegal in the Wills and Trusts department. Just now I personally witnessed the two of them talking and laughing together like old friends.” Eileen’s knees felt weak, and she groped for her chair. Miranda hated that guy. It would take a miracle for them to be nice to each other. “The only thing that worries me,” Alex went on, “Is that there seems to be some limiting factor with respect to the range of the potion.” She massaged her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from shouting at him. “Alex, if this stuff is actually having an effect on people, perhaps there is more than just one thing that should worry you. Us. Like the fact that no one consented—” “I mean, Jason said it only works with respect to the first person you see when you wake up. Ideally, we want people to be pleasant and tolerant toward everyone they meet. Although even if they are only nice to one person, that’s an im—” “Alex, listen to me! Ideally, we don’t want this potion of Jason’s to have any effect at all. Ideally, we want everything to be just the way it was before you got the crackbrained notion to use sorcery for the purposes of social engineering!” There was a pause. Then Alex’s voice returned, sounding calm and dignified. “I’m surprised at this hostile attitude of yours, Eileen. Maybe you should reconsider your refusal to drink the coffee.” God, she was losing it. Losing her temper, losing this argument, losing Alex. She slammed the phone down. Alex set the receiver gently back in its cradle and looked thoughtfully at Jason. “You’re sure that other than making people friendlier, the potion is harmless?” Jason smiled and spread his hands wide. “Of course it’s harmless. Look, I’m fine, and I drank it straight. Remember?” “And it’s the Philios potion, right? You didn’t mix it up with—with—” “Of course not.” The salesman looked offended. Alex focused on him with the steady gaze he used when challenging a witness to tell the truth. “So, as a result of putting this potion in the coffee, I can expect this law firm to become a happier, friendlier place?” Jason didn’t blink. “Absolutely.”

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Chapter Eight “Shit, shit, shit,” Duke swore. “Damn it to hell and back.” He stumped over to his office door, with some idea of following Ann back to her office. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Connie moaned. Duke limped back and helped raise her to the sofa again. She seemed to be breathing normally, and he wondered if he should ask if she wanted some pain reliever or something. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Duke mumbled. “Do you forgive me?” “Well, I suppose,” Connie said. “Thank you,” Duke said, and gathered her into his embrace. He held her gently, as if she were made of glass, partly because he knew she was still sore and partly because he was sore, too. Damn it all, he hated feeling like a bumbling fool. Maybe he was having a mid-life crisis. He’d heard about men who had reached middle age and suddenly felt an irresistible desire to recapture their youth with false hairpieces, expensive sports cars and pneumatic young bimbos. Weak-minded fools, he’d thought them—but now here he was, as foolish as any senile old grampus in love with a girl half his age. So he was having a mid-life crisis after all. But why the hell couldn’t he enjoy it while it lasted? Zoe looked around. What was happening around here? She walked down the hall, hoping to find someone who could explain what was going on. A groan issued from an alcove where a copier was placed. Without thinking, Zoe called out, “Are you all right?” She trotted around the corner. And stopped short. Three bodies heaved and moaned on top of the expensive office equipment in the alcove. A woman with streaked blonde hair—it was hard to tell who she was without a scrap of clothing on—bent over the copier, her generous breasts mashed against the copying plate as if she were committing some strange office prank. A man in a baseball cap was thrusting into her from behind, his janitorial coveralls puddled around his booted feet. Behind him, a second man wearing nothing but a tie and black trouser socks was thrusting into him. Yikes! Zoe sprinted off down the hall, wishing she could scrub the mental image from her mind. But now she was far from her own desk, way on the opposite side of the

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firm’s offices, and still hadn’t found anyone who could explain what was going on. There simply had to be someone who wasn’t engaged in some kind of weird sex act. After skipping all the doorways from which giggles and moans emanated, she had reached her desk once more. “I give up,” she muttered to herself. Time to go home. With her purse slung over her shoulder, she turned off her computer and shoved the files she was working on into a drawer. She added in a louder voice, “Enjoy yourselves, folks, because I’m out of here.” Not that they needed her advice. Weird as it was to see her normally sedate coworkers enthusiastically fucking one another, they’d all looked as if they were enjoying themselves. So why was she all alone? Whatever it was that they all had, clearly Zoe didn’t have it. But as far as she could tell, she was the only one who wasn’t. She sighed and flipped off the switch, dimming her workspace. Light still streamed from Duke’s office. Why couldn’t people turn off their own lights and computers? Weren’t the people at this firm grown-up enough to take care of these things themselves? She stomped over to her boss’ door and flung it open. Then she wished she hadn’t. “Shit,” she muttered. “Not again.” At the far end of the room, two people were passionately entwined on a leather sofa. One was Justin Pender, the office Lothario, wearing nothing but a goofy smile. The other was an African-American woman with short-cropped, graying hair who glared at Zoe’s clumsy intrusion. Whoever she was, Zoe gave her props for the expression of outraged dignity on her face, which couldn’t be easy to manage when lying naked on a lawyer’s couch. Zoe looked at the raw silk suit jacket on the floor, and the wildly expensive scarf thrown on top of it—clearly, Pender’s partner in afternoon delight was well-to-do. “Oh. My. God.” It was the best Zoe could do under the circumstances. Pender glanced at her. “Shut the door on your way out.” Released from her momentary paralysis, Zoe whipped the door closed. As she did, Pender’s companion glared at her through the closing door and snarled, “If you so much as breathe one word about this…” As if she would. Zoe wanted to scrub her brain. This was just too weird. If she was lucky, she would discover that someone had miraculously opened up a bar on the corner of Broad and High Streets, where she could drink Cosmopolitans until she forgot she had ever worked at Poindextre and Sangazure. There was only so much a person should be expected to take, and this was well beyond the limit. She stalked to the elevator and punched the button, determined to wait for the elevator if it took all night. She wasn’t about to get trapped in the stairwell with some sex-crazed maniac, not at this time of her life. The door slid open and she stepped in. 83

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It wasn’t fair. It was unbelievable, grotesque, mindbending—whatever. She just couldn’t take any more of it. She could feel tears of frustration leaking out of the corners of her eyes. This day just sucked. Staring at her reflection in the polished steel of the elevator door, she tugged at the neckline of her lime-green sweater. Running her hands over her body, over the soft mounds of her own breasts and past the indentation of her waist, and then over her hips, she wished—she wished—ah, hell, she wished she wasn’t all alone. The elevator dinged its arrival at its destination, and she took a few deep breaths. Fine. She was out of here. Grimly taking hold of the strap of her purse, she marched out. She stopped. Instead of the slate-gray tile of the lobby, she was surrounded by the pale soothing beige of an office suite. The damn elevator had stopped on the twentieth floor. “Damn it all to hell!” She swiveled around to stop the elevator door from smoothly sliding shut. Too late. Kevin blinked and opened his eyes. His head felt stuffed with sawdust that had backed up and dried out his mouth, and his neck hurt like a sonofabitch. He must have fallen asleep. Not surprising, considering the late hours he had been pulling lately. But it wasn’t like him to pass out cold like that. Maybe he ought to ease off, he thought, then shook his head. No. He was almost there. Soon he’d be out of this dump, far away from the legal assholes and their bitchy administrative assistants. “Damn it all to hell!” came a familiar voice from beyond the door. So, Miss Particular Partlett had come back to beg for more help. She wasn’t going to get it from him. His fingers twitched. He glanced at the door. She was still out there, he could practically feel her angry snit burning through the door. Well, he wasn’t going to run out there and ask if she needed his help. She could damn well knock and ask nicely. Hell, she could beg for it, but he wasn’t going to help her. One of the lawyers she was so hot for could fix that piece of shit computer of hers. He hadn’t wanted to go out with her anyway. He ought to go out there and give her hell. He was going to give her hell. He strode to the door and pulled it open. She was facing the elevator, repeatedly stabbing at the call button. That big round ass jiggled and swayed under the tight miniskirt every time she hit the button. A small triangle of her skirt hem was wrinkled up in back, right at the spot where the backs of her thighs met her rear cheeks. That skirt was short. He studied the dark, enticing gap between her thighs, trying to figure out if he could actually see the outline of her pussy peeking out from under that seductive, curled-up little hem.

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She spun around to face him, face pink, knuckles on hips. Her big, pillowy breasts swung with her, shimmying into place a split second after the rest of her body had come to a stop. The green sweater she wore looked magically soft, magically delicious. He wanted to reach under that sweater, find her nipples and pinch them into big juicy points. She faced him with her legs braced apart, shoulders thrown back, and lips curled back in an angry snarl. Zoe heard a noise behind her and looked over her shoulder. Kevin was lounging against the jamb of his office door with one elbow resting high on the wall. His dark hair was tousled and he was rubbing sleep out of his eyes with his other hand. His shirt was untucked. He looked rumpled and sleepy, every long, lean inch of him utterly delectable and wholly male. Her mouth went dry. A spear of sheer lust stabbed through her. Where did that come from? She gritted her teeth and reasoned with herself the way she did when mad cravings for chocolate hit in the middle of a strict diet. Was this a logical way for her to feel? No. Was she using this emotion to avoid dealing with some other part of her life? No. Did she really need to have hot, sweaty sex with Kevin? Yesyesyesyesyes. No! Wrong answer. Perhaps the question could be better phrased. Did she need Kevin, or did she just want him? Oh, yes. Reason clearly was being outgunned by hormones. Or by something. She was in trouble now. Kevin folded his arms. This was going to be fun, he decided. “Coming to see me?” he asked. Her eyes darted uneasily. She crossed her arms under those ripe melon breasts bunching them together. Cleavage deepened at the V of her sweater. “No.” She uncrossed her arms and tugged the hem of her skirt down in front. He watched every move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Hell. He gave her his best sneer. “Good. Next time your computer hangs on you, call the eight-hundred number.” Her eyes widened in shock. “I don’t have time to call a damn number. If our computers go down, you’re supposed to take care of it.” He shrugged. “I’m busy.” Man, that felt good. That was good. Now he ought to turn around and leave. The hell with her. He looked her straight in the eyes, ready to tell her that she didn’t mean anything to him. He was outta here. But he couldn’t move. He didn’t even want to take a step away from her. She was driving him crazy, filling up his senses, making him wish he could dive into her headfirst and never come out. 85

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Zoe couldn’t believe what was happening to her. God, it was so unfair, it was a judgment upon her, that she’d turned Kevin down flat and now she was being punished for it. She was being suffocated with desire, and he was sneering at her. Then their eyes met, locked. His jaw sagged open in surprise. She saw the answering heat spring into his eyes. He took a step toward her. And Zoe realized that the only thing worse than being hot for a Kevin who hated her was being hot for a Kevin who wanted her. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. He watched as she strode toward him, wagging her finger in his face. One more wag and she was going to lose that finger. “Now look here, Kevin—” He caught her hand. “Too close.” Until he’d touched her, he hadn’t known what he was going to do. Then he’d grabbed that insolent finger and an electric spark, arcing from her to him, sent a bolt of lightning straight to his neglected cock, and electrocuted his reason. He stared deep into those jade-green eyes, now wide and apprehensive, and vowed that he was going to make her beg for it. Even if it killed him. He ignored the lust that threatened to sweep over him like a firestorm. “What do you want?” He forced his voice into evenness. She shook her head, licked her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You know. You say I never listen to you.” He forced himself to release her and step back. It was like pulling off his own skin. “You say I come on too strong, don’t do what you want. Well, I’m listening now. Tell me what you want.” Her throat moved convulsively, and her eyes went dark. “No. I don’t want—” “Then walk away. Right now.” God, it hurt to say it. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing her, tearing away her clothes. But he was going to win this. He held his breath. She didn’t move. She stood as if paralyzed, staring up at him, her lips slightly parted. Fierce triumph roared through him. She wanted him, she couldn’t deny it. He was going to make her admit it, shout it. When he was done with her she would beg for his touch. “Fine.” He shrugged. “See ya.” He jammed his fisted hands into his jeans pockets, and took a couple of steps backward, into the computer room. It hurt like hell, and he discovered that he couldn’t turn his back on her, but he managed to move a few feet away. “No, wait.” She practically sprinted into the room, then stopped herself. She lifted her chin. “I’m not done talking to you.”

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He crossed his arms across his chest and kept his face stern. “So what do you want to talk about?” “What’s going on around here?” she demanded, surprising him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. She waved a hand. “You know. People ripping off their clothes and having sex everywhere in the office.” The mental images nearly staggered him. He had to keep the conversation going, or he would lose it. His mouth went dry, and his voice sounded harsh in his own ears when he spoke. “Is that what you want to do? Rip off these clothes and fuck?” She shuddered and her eyelids fluttered but she pulled herself together. “I—” she swallowed hard. “I want you to answer my question. Do you know what this is all about?” He almost said no, but he was desperate, looking for some key to get past her resistance. She wanted him as much as he wanted her—he knew it, he was as certain of that as he was of his own name. “What will you give me if I tell you what I know?” “What do you want?” she said faintly. He thought about it. She wanted him, but it wasn’t going to be easy to convince her. “I’ll tell you what. We can trade. A little you, a little me.” It was a crazy bargain—he didn’t know anything about people having sex right in the office. Apparently she knew more about it than he did, since she’d seen it. He was barely able to think straight now, with the scent of her filling the air, and he probably wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense for very long. But he needed to touch her, to get his hands on her, then it wouldn’t matter what he knew. The lust would burn away everything else. She took a deep breath and eyed him uncertainly. “Okay. Okay. If you want, you, um, you can hold my hand.” Triumphant, he took a step closer and lifted her hand in his. “What, not even a kiss?” He let the fingers of his other hand travel lightly over her knuckles and up her wrist. Her eyes were riveted on the path his fingers were taking. She shook her head. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me.” He thought quickly. “I went to the cake and coffee thing at three.” “And?” He shook his head. “You want me to give, you got to give too.” She huffed out a breath, then made a quick gesture. “Touch my—touch me on the neck.” Hypnotized, moving almost as if without volition, he brought his hand up to the side of her neck and caressed her. His fingers trailed down her jaw, traced a line to her collarbone and then circled back up underneath her ear. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her lips parted. Finally, he remembered he had to say something.

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“You were talking to Connie. A stranger was hanging with your buddy Alex Poindextre.” He let his hand dip down to the neckline of the lime-green sweater. Her heart was beating fast, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. “What do you want me to do now?” “Touch my breasts.” The words slipped out of her mouth without her seeming to hear them. His hands swirled lower, pressing the generous mounds, finding her nipples through the soft fabric. God, he’d waited so long for this. He lifted the sweater’s hem enough to let his questing hands brush against her smooth, warm skin. Reaching around, he unhooked her bra and pushed it up and out of the way. His hands cupped her breasts and pinched the already taut nipples. She gasped and stiffened. “Stop.” He did, still lightly squeezing each luscious nipple between thumb and forefinger. “What?” “I didn’t say you could do that,” she said. “You said I could touch your breasts,” he corrected. He rolled the taut peaks between his fingers, bringing forth a little gasp. “The guy with Poindextre spent a lot of time near the coffeepot. Kind of weird, considering clients don’t usually serve coffee to the staff. Usually the other way around.” “Do you think he put something in the coffee?” He smiled at her. “Do you really want to know what I think?” She closed her eyes in defeat. “Okay, take off my sweater.” He laughed a little under his breath, and pulled the soft fabric over her head. Her bra followed, and he crowded her back against his work table, pinning her in place with this crotch pressed to hers. Cupping her full breasts, he leaned down and blew on the tightened nipples he’d been teasing. She shivered and arched her back. “To answer your question, it is possible he slipped us all a Mickey.” “Why?” He didn’t answer right away, just watched her as he played with her gorgeous breasts. “You know the rules.” She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Fine. Put your mouth on me.” “Where?” She wanted him. He knew she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He could barely keep from gloating. “On my—on my breasts. Suck my breasts. Damn you,” she added. He slid his hands up her bare back, bracing her as his mouth sought out the sensitive nipples and lightly bit down. Her legs sagged apart, and his erection pressed deeper into the warm V between her thighs. Excitement charged through his body, tightening his groin until it turned into a kind of pain. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “You drove me crazy from the first minute I saw you.”

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“That’s not part of our deal. That’s not what you’re supposed to be talking about.” She pushed his shoulders back, separating their bodies as much as she could while his hips were grinding into hers. Her breath was still coming fast and her pulse was jumping. “The deal is you tell me what you know about what’s going on in the office, and I’ll let you—” Fury blazed through him. “Oh, is that what you think this is? Just a simple little transaction? I’ve got news for you, sweetheart. You want me as much as I want you. I’m just more honest about it, that’s all.” He let go of her and stepped back, ignoring the agony from his aroused body. One look at her made him want to fling himself on her again. She was braced against the worktable, naked from the waist up, her breasts still gleaming with the moisture of his kisses, and her legs spread wide beneath the small brown miniskirt. Her lips looked swollen and soft, but her eyes were sparkling with anger. “I do not.” “Face it, baby. And here’s another news flash. If you want me now, you’re going to have to do what I want. I’m done playing games. You’re going to have to take off that skirt, and the panties, and spread for me.” She stood up straight and covered her breasts with her arms. Her face was pink with indignation. “You’re crazy. I didn’t—I don’t— Come back here. Right now!” He shook his head and took another step away. Every fiber in his body was screaming to go to her. It was worse than when he’d been a teenager. But she was going to break first. That was all there was to it. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, god. Don’t make me do this.” “I’m not making you do anything,” he answered in as reasonable a voice as he could manage. She was going to give in. She had to give in. With a sound like a sob, she reached behind her back and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the ground around her ankles. He licked his lips as she stood before him wearing nothing but a small scrap of sheer lace covering her mound. “Everything comes off,” he reminded her. Slowly she hooked her thumbs into the narrow band of elastic and pulled off the panties to stand naked before him. Her legs were shapely and muscular, her waist narrow and her breasts were full, crowned by nipples still erect in the cool air. Under the dark curls that graced the junction of her thighs, he could see the pale pink of her slit. His erection strained at his fly, reminding him that he was still fully dressed. He scanned the room. The only place that didn’t have junk on it was the futon in the back of the room, where he napped from time to time. It wasn’t a bed, but it would have to do. “Lie down on the sofa.” Without a word she went to the futon and lay down, covering her mound with one hand and her breasts with the other.

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“Hands behind your head. Spread those legs wide,” he ordered. She glared at him, furious, but she obeyed. Her hands were tucked behind her head, lifting her breasts up like twin offerings as she lay back. She spread her legs apart as wide as they would go, every bit of her most intimate secrets exposed to his gloating gaze. Her face was red but her eyes were still open and watching his every move. He slid open his desk drawer and rummaged around for a moment, finally coming up with a small foil packet, which he held cupped in one hand. Good thing his buddy James had given him the condom, even if it had been meant as a joke. James had been convinced that Kevin stayed late at the office because he was having hot sex. Too bad for James that he would never find out he’d been right. Kevin walked slowly toward her and came to a stop standing over her with his hands on his hips. “We’re going to get one thing straight.” “What is that?” Her lip curled into an adorable sneer, but he could see the uneasiness in her eyes as she lay spread-eagled on the futon. “You belong to me.” He knelt over her naked body and kissed her hard, the only point of contact between them being their mouths. The flames roared hot inside him. She was responding to his kiss. She wanted him. Instinctively, protectively, she brought her hands around to cover herself. With an effort of will, he sat back. “I didn’t say you could move,” he whispered. “Put your hands back behind your head where they were.” Slowly, she reassumed the position, arms and legs spread wide. “What about your part of the bargain?” “What part?” His brain was barely functioning. All he could do was stare at her naked body stretched out before him. “You’re supposed to tell me what you know about what’s going on.” He shook his head. “Hell if I know what’s going on.” Then he bent down and kissed her mouth. He broke free long enough to whisper, “Do you want to stop?” “Don’t stop.” Her breasts were crowned by big dark nipples. He kneaded them gently, then pinched the protruding nipples that seemed to beg for attention. Gathering one breast into his hand, he lowered his mouth to one and sucked. She moaned. He liked that. The sound sent a bolt of lightning right down to the base of his spine, swelling his cock harder than ever. Her body was writhing beneath him, her back arching up to press more of her full breast into his mouth. He sucked some more, closing his teeth gently around the aroused peak. He switched breasts, giving the other nipple the same treatment, and enjoyed the way her big soft ass ground into the hard cushion with desire. He reached between her open legs, feeling the moisture gathered there. “You want me so bad you’re dripping,” he told her, keeping one hand cupped over her pussy. The scent of her arousal was all around him, heady and intoxicating. 90

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He looked up at her and smiled. “Open wide.” “Oh, god,” she moaned, but she spread her legs wider, leaving her open to his gaze. The thick, pouting outer lips of her cunt were spread wide and he could see the darker coral of her inner labia peeking out as she held her legs open. “Oh, we’re not done yet,” he assured her. He delved between her legs, letting his fingers comb through the hair on her moist cunt. She wriggled away from him, but she didn’t go far. This game was so exciting he was ready to come. He captured one nipple in his mouth and bit down. Her knees popped apart with a jerk. Covering her mound with one hand, he smiled at her. “Good girl.” She glared at him, but her legs didn’t close. He moved around to position himself at her pussy and took his hand away, admiring its soft folds. He blew softly on it, and she groaned. He drew her lips apart with his fingers and buried his face in her musky core, licking and teasing with his tongue. She was salty and musky and impossibly soft. His cock swelled inside his jeans, straining painfully against the hard denim. He sat back for a moment. With one hand he opened his fly, feeling the relief as his cock surged out, rock-hard and throbbing. His balls bunched up tight beneath the thick heavy shaft. His fingers trembled a little as he opened the package and rolled the condom down its length. He went back to plying her slit with his tongue. When he felt her body clench, he rose up and jammed his inflamed, ravenous cock into her, stretching himself over her body and thrusting his tongue into her mouth in time with each powerful thrust of his cock. Beneath him she brought her hips up to meet his, forcing him deep inside her body as her head whipped from side to side. She was wildly erotic, uncontrolled, ferocious, exciting. Soon, too soon, he grabbed her hips and plowed forward in one mighty lunge as a tidal wave of release crashed over him. Just as he reached the crest of the monster wave, he felt her orgasm sweeping her under. Eileen never cried. Well, hardly ever. But sometimes, when she was alone, the anger and frustration simply leaked out, and she was just glad that there was no one around to see. But now she was done with that. She wiped her eyes and gave herself a shake. Her life had been perfect, damn it, and she was going to get it back. No stupid sorcerer was going to stand in her way. How? She gazed around her office as if she might find the answer to her problem hiding behind the neat rows of legal reference books. The sandy suede client chairs proved empty of inspiration. She lowered her head into her hands again. It was over. The phone rang, startling her. “Eileen Sangazure,” she responded automatically. “Darling.”

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Her fiancé’s voice brought all her anger flooding back, stiffening her spine. She kept her lips pressed together. His voice sounded smooth and comforting. “I’m sorry. I’ve been all wrapped up in this project, and you probably think I haven’t been listening to you.” “Yeah.” “Sweetheart, you’re everything to me. We’re going to be together as life partners, right?” “Right.” She relaxed a smidgen. He did love her. And his intentions were always noble, even if his ideas were sometimes crazy. Her mother’s voice sounded in her head. Don’t stick to your guns so much that you wind up choosing the guns over your partner. “You know I’m doing this because I think it is the best thing for S&P, right?” She shook her head. “Well, yes, but what if—” “And this firm will eventually become our firm, and we want it to be a great place to work, agreed?” “Of course, but this isn’t—” “And you trust me.” She really hated it when he used his cross-examination tricks on her. “I trust you, I understand what you’re trying to do, but—” “Then you—” “But,” she repeated, raising her voice just enough to get the upper hand, “I think that you’re going about it the wrong way. You can’t force people to change, you need their cooperation. This social-improvement-by-stealth thing is just going to backfire on you.” He was silent for a moment. She pressed her advantage. “Don’t you see? Duke and Ann like you. You don’t need to do this to make partner.” “This isn’t about making partner,” Alex said stiffly. “It’s about making the world a better place.” “Okay, but what if this experiment doesn’t work as planned?” There was another pause, and low-voiced conversation on his end. A new voice sounded in her ear. “Eileen, Jason here.” She gripped the receiver hard. “Jason, I’m telling you right now, that if this crazy scheme doesn’t work—” “Yes, yes, naturally you’re concerned Eileen, I hear you,” Jason said quickly. “Please allow me to assure you that the reputation of our firm stands fully behind each of our products, and that in our long history of operation—” “No,” Eileen said. “No. Jason, if anything goes wrong, any single thing, I am holding you fully responsible for the consequences.” 92

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“Our firm—” “Not the firm, Jason. You. Personally.” “I assure you, madam, that all will be well.” He sounded like a stuffy English butler. Good—that meant that her threat had been received loud and clear. She heard the rustling as the receiver exchanged hands again. “Feel better, honey?” Alex asked cheerfully. Eileen rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn’t see her. “Yes, dear.” “Then I hope you’ll stand by my side as Sangazure and Poindextre reaches a new level of tolerance and goodwill.” She agreed, which didn’t count for anything because he wasn’t listening. After she hung up the phone, she sat and tapped her forefinger against her lips. Maybe she was making too big a deal of all this. Honestly, what were the odds that this stuff really worked? Just because he said Miranda and John Best were talking together didn’t mean it had anything to do with the potion. And even if it did—what would be so bad about friendliness, anyway? She couldn’t see any harm coming out of people being nicer to one another. After all, it wasn’t like Jason had slipped them all a love potion or anything.

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Chapter Nine Ann Sangazure threw open her office door so hard its knob dented the wall. Then she slammed it shut with enough force to shiver the large plate glass windows that marked her status as co-founding partner. Snarling, she looked around for something to throw. Something breakable, something useless, something just about the size of Duke Poindextre’s head. But nothing in her spare, utilitarian office met that description. Too bad she’d never been into knickknacks. She picked up a volume of case law and threw it at her tightly packed bookcase. The book opened as it fell, pages fluttering with a sound like ripping paper. “Bastard!” Useless. She grabbed a Black’s Law Dictionary and heaved it. “You asshole! You cheating asshole!” That felt better, but the problem was that it wasn’t true. Duke hadn’t cheated on her. So why the hell had she felt like the bottom had fallen out of her world when she’d seen him writhing on the floor on top of Roger Daly’s little blonde assistant? It was ridiculous. It was undignified. And it should have been Ann under him. She picked up a dusty old volume of Martindale-Hubbell, the directory of all lawyers and law firms in the United States. The massive, multi-volume print editions had long since been transferred to a digital format, but this particular book contained the first-ever listing of the Sangazure and Poindextre law firm. It slammed against the wall with a deep, hollow boom. “I hate you!” Exhausted, she slumped into a tubular steel Danish-modern client chair and rubbed her fingers over her eyes. Everything in her life had suddenly, inexplicably broken into pieces. Why? What had she done wrong? How could she possibly have deserved this? About a half-hour ago, she had awakened after a short and far from customary nap at her desk, determined to turn over a new leaf in her relationship with Duke. She wanted to talk it over with him, and casually introduce the idea of taking things to the next level. They’d been partners—and friends—for a very long time. With Eileen getting married, Ann would be on her own, just as Duke was. No sense in being lonely. Why not spend a few evenings together, have a few laughs, just relax and hang out? See where it went. She’d hurried over to his office, hoping to catch him before he left for the weekend, wanting to talk to him face-to-face rather than on the phone. It was an exciting prospect.

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And they might even—well, of course not right away, but after a while—they might even become lovers. It would be a casual sort of thing, gentle and sensitive and warm. Then she’d opened the door to his office and there he was, the old goat, rolling around on the floor with a woman half his age. A soft, gentle, bleating lamb of a woman who probably would revel in playing the role of Duke’s Little Wifey, gazing at him adoringly and agreeing with everything he said. They’d been so busy they hadn’t even noticed Ann. Well, to hell with Duke. To hell with all of them. If anyone thought that Ann Sangazure would sit around wringing her hands because of one over-rated, underbrained, lowdown snake of a partner, they had another think coming. Ann was going to deliver them all a little shock and awe. The rainbow had gone away, and now the sky was all gray and filled with clouds. It was sad to think that her life was going to be one long sacrifice, married to Duke—who made her heart beat fast in some strange way, so she must have fallen in love with him even though she couldn’t help feeling that it was all wrong—but secretly longing for Roger—who was really romantic, and seemed to feel just exactly the way she felt, but who had been too shy to speak of his love before Duke had proposed. Connie gave a little hopeless sigh. Duke didn’t seem to notice. The door to Duke’s office banged open, making her jump. Alex Poindextre strode in, accompanied by a sharp-dressed guy who had the lean and hungry look of a used car salesman. “Uncle, I want to tell you— Good god!” Young Mr. Poindextre stopped so fast his heels practically skidded on the carpet. Just like in a cartoon, Connie thought. She smothered a giggle. Bet old Alex-the-hunk never expected to see his Uncle Duke hugging her. Not that Connie had ever expected it either—but maybe this was what love was really like, when you just looked at a man and suddenly everything was all different. “What the hell is going on here?” Alex demanded. Connie quailed a little. She really didn’t like loud voices. The salesman-type who had come in with Alex smiled hopefully at everyone impartially. Duke patted her shoulder, and Connie felt a little thrill of pleasure. The simple touch made her feel all protected and safe and…well, maybe just a teeny bit excited. But Connie was a good girl, and years of her rigid upbringing had taught her not to give in to those urges. Not until the wedding night. Duke led Connie over to his nephew. “Alex, my boy, I’d like to formally introduce you to my affianced wife.” Alex stared at the tableau before him. “What’s going on?”

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Duke blustered, his face scarlet. “What the hell does it look like? Can’t a man cuddle with his intended in private?” “Your intended? What?“ Duke patted Connie Gentry’s hand. “Please allow me to remonstrate with my nephew for a moment, my turtledove. I’ll be right back.” Duke got to his feet. Alex backed away. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” “No, no. I want to have a word with you,” Duke said in a grim parody of friendliness. His face was stretched into an expression more like a snarl than a smile as he grabbed Alex’s upper arm. His grip was tight enough to be painful, and up close, his smile looked even scarier. “You’ll have to congratulate us on this happy occasion. I have every hope that my dearest Connie will bestow her hand upon me in marriage, making me the happiest of men.” “Connie? Gentry?” Alex’s bewilderment turned both words into questions. “Of course Connie, you— I mean, my dear boy. The scales fell from my eyes this afternoon, and now I shall do everything in my power to convince her to marry me.” Alex looked at his uncle and then glanced at Connie, sitting on the sofa. She was gazing out the window dreamily—probably thinking about wedding gowns. Still, both she and his uncle were fully dressed. “I suppose it could be worse,” Alex muttered. “How?” growled Duke. “That is, how dare you take that attitude? Connie is the sweetest and most perfect girl in the universe.” “I mean, it couldn’t be better. Congratulations, Uncle Duke.” Alex stammered a little. Connie looked up from where she sat. “Uh, affianced?” “Engaged, my dear,” Duke returned to her side, pulling her hand through his arm and stroking her fingers. Neither of them looked very comfortable with the situation. Alex looked from one to the other, wondering how such a mismatched couple could have gotten together. Especially since they didn’t seem all that happy about it. And what would Eileen’s mother have to say about this? Alex didn’t consider himself particularly perceptive about other people’s romances, but he’d always thought there was a strange kind of unspoken bond between Duke and Ann. He knew Eileen had always considered Duke a kind of surrogate father. This would not make her happy. Alex tried to keep his tone light. “This is very unexpected. I wasn’t aware that you two were in a relationship.” Connie spoke up quickly. “We weren’t, but—”

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“My dear boy, I am not accountable to you for everything in my life,” Duke said, his chin jutting out aggressively. Jason suddenly surged forward. “Well, what a delightful coincidence this is.” He spoke with a salesman’s false heartiness. “Let me congratulate the happy couple.” He slapped Duke’s back and leered in a friendly fashion at Connie, who blushed and looked away. He kissed her fingers, and winked at Duke. Alex glanced nervously at Duke, who was still looking dangerous. He really ought to ask the older man whether he’d considered Ann’s feelings in all this, but he couldn’t find the words. Connie’s raised voice interrupted his thoughts. “Where are you going?” she called out. She turned to Alex. “Where is your friend going?” Alex looked up with a start. “Jason?” “Don’t mind me. I’ll be around,” Jason said and slid out the office door. Duke ran his hands through his silver hair. At least he still had hair to run his hands through, although after a day like this one he’d probably lose it all in clumps. It was too bad—he had been proud of it. He eyed his nephew, who had a damn disapproving look on his face. The kid had no right to complain. Duke was a free agent. This whole thing with Connie had blown up rather suddenly, but he’d proved himself equal to the occasion. And yet, and yet…his mind wasn’t completely at ease. There wasn’t very much they had in common, really. Her grammar was atrocious. She didn’t seem to have much on her mind, or if she did, her capacity for self-expression was diminished, to say the least. Plus, she had a crush on Roger Daly. In a way, though, Connie and Daly would have made a more compatible couple. How strange the ways of passion were, for those arrows of desire to have struck where they did. Perhaps Connie, in her simple and unassuming way, had hit upon something when she noted how “weird” their blossoming relationship was. It was weird. He’d always considered Ann Sangazure to be the one woman for him. They were partners, damn it. They thought the same, they fought the same, they’d made it through thick and thin together. Ann never failed to light a fire under him. She inspired him, she challenged him, she made him do his best. She kept him on his toes. She was exciting, passionate, fascinating. Of course, she was also a pain in the ass, a rigid feminist with an ingrained antipathy against sex. She’d never gone to bed with him, not once in their long association. But somehow he’d always imagined she’d be a hell of a lot of fun in the sack. But today, his feelings had taken over. He hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Now he had a duty to shield the girl from the consequences of his lust. Not that any actual lust had been involved, he reflected. And it wouldn’t be the kind of marriage he’d hoped for—a partnership of the soul as well as the body.

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And then Ann had walked in. What a disaster! He hadn’t even had time to assimilate the full horror of it before she’d stalked out again. There certainly would be hell to pay with her. Just the thought of Ann was too depressing to linger on. Now Alex had turned up with that salesman friend of his. One would have thought that Alex, with his strong notions about equality, would have been more eager to embrace a marriage that joined two parties from different walks of life. But he looked just as shocked as anyone else. Ann. Oh, good god, how was he going to face Ann? Maybe she would calm down a little once she had some time to reflect. Hadn’t she told him, just today, that he should have married some docile little hausfrau? Well, he had taken her advice. But now that he was actually doing it, it just didn’t feel right. A vision of life with timid, docile Connie stretched out before him like a boring and empty wasteland. No bumps, no surprises, no changes. God, he wished he could have gotten onto the roller coaster with Ann. But it was too late now. Alex walked slowly back to his office. He was shaking like a leaf. He wondered where Jason was. The hallway was empty. Alex didn’t even know where Jason had gone. Had the salesman lied to him about the nature of the potion? Had there been some side effect he hadn’t disclosed to Alex, something that might have caused Duke and Connie to react more emotionally than expected? He shook his head. No, it wasn’t possible. He’d asked Jason for a potion that would promote tolerance, not Love Potion Number Nine. Surely the reputation of JWW Enterprises was worth something here. This couldn’t be his, Alex’s, fault. He sighed and shut his office door. He needed to think. After tapping his fingers on his desk blotter for several restless minutes, he changed his mind. He needed Eileen. He picked up the phone receiver. No. Eileen had been against using the potion. He put it down again. But who else could he call? Reluctantly, he punched in her number. “Duke’s finally decided to get married,” he said when he heard her voice on the line. Eileen squealed with delight. “Oh, Alex, that’s wonderful! Mom would never admit it, but she’s loved him for so long—” “He’s marrying Connie Gentry.” Silence vibrated on the line. “What?” “Duke has been having an affair with her, and now they’re getting married.” He shook his head. This was not the best news he’d ever broken to her. “I’m as shocked as you are, honey. Jason and I just walked in—” “I knew it! This is all that Jason’s fault. I told you not to listen to him—”

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“It is not. He’s here to effect positive change—” “And now Mom is going to be so hurt—” Alex had to raise his voice to be heard. “And Duke’s love life has nothing to do with Jason, or the potion, or anything!” She went quiet. At least it gave him time to make his case. “You said you trusted me. But if you’re going to be second-guessing my every move, and blaming everything that happens on Jason, then maybe—” She sighed. “Okay. Perhaps I did jump to the conclusion that…but I just don’t trust him, Alex, I really don’t.” Alex sat back in his chair. His shoulder muscles seemed to unknot. “It’s all right. Just so long as you trust me, okay? Just because Duke and Connie’s affair came to light right now doesn’t mean that it started this afternoon. I mean, how unlikely is that?” “Very unlikely,” Eileen agreed. “Unless—” “The timing sucks, of course. But their affair doesn’t have anything to do with tolerance, or dispelling prejudice, does it?” “No, affairs usually don’t, but—” “And I bet you haven’t even tried the potion yourself, have you?” “No, I have not,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Eileen, don’t you trust me?” “I refuse to have this discussion with you again, Alex,” she said and hung up the phone. Alex sat back and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t feel any better, but arguing with Eileen had brought him to one important realization. Whatever Duke and Connie were up to, it couldn’t possibly be his fault.

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Chapter Ten Jason excused himself from Duke Poindextre’s office and ducked into a blessedly vacant conference room down the hall. He wasn’t actually running out on anybody, he was simply stepping out of the action for a few moments. Well, it was true. He had to call his office. Things were going to hell in a handbasket around here. He slammed his fist down on the table. Why, why, why, when everything was going right, did things suddenly have to turn to shit in his hands? It had all been so beautiful—the potion actually working, people being nice to each other, the client actually happy with his performance for a change. And then everything had gone wrong. People weren’t just being nice, they were jumping each other’s bones in broad daylight. It was like a Roman orgy without the togas. The only positive aspect of the whole thing was that the client, Alex, hadn’t noticed anything wrong yet. Thank the Powers that Be for the obsessively singleminded client! If Jason could come up with something fast, he might just be able to salvage some part of this operation. He punched in the number and waited impatiently as the phone rang on the other end. “Pick up, pick up,” he muttered into his mobile. After an eternity, a voice growled, “This had better be good.” “Ari, listen, about the experimental potions you’ve been working on,” Jason said quickly. “Yeah?” “Well, did—well, one of them had the white paper label glued on and the other had a label that was held on with a rubber band.” Jason loosened his tie. “Right?” “So?” “Which one was the Philios potion and which was the Eros potion?” Jason clutched the phone and sent up a quick prayer to any god that might be listening. “The one with the glued label said Eros and the other said Philios. Right? That’s right, isn’t it?” A long pause followed. “Ari?” Jason’s voice rose in pitch. A thunderous roar filled his ears. “You took them with you? To America?” “I told you,” Jason said, near panic now. “The client was looking for a moodaltering potion that would foster tolerance and goodwill among his office coworkers. I read the literature—the Philios potion is perfect for that. Just tell me that you labeled the damn test tubes correctly.”

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“Shit.” The phone line went dead. “Don’t hang up on me, you fiend!” Jason yelled into the phone. It was no use. He slumped down in a chair. The question now was, should he stay and come up with a Plan B or should he make a run for it? A giggling couple burst through the door of his temporary refuge. The man’s tie was undone, and his companion’s lipstick was smeared. She was clinging to him, trying to unbutton his shirt with one hand. “Oops. Sorry,” the man said. He tightened his arms around the woman and tugged her back through the door. “We’ll try somewhere else. Damn, why is it so hard to find a little privacy around here?” The door shut. Jason stared at the door for a long time. It was probably time to run. Jason Wellington Wells, Senior Account Executive, Potions, buttoned his suit-jacket. Time to go. He cracked open the conference room door to make sure the coast was clear before stepping smartly to the elevator. He punched the button and looked around, hoping he could leave before someone saw him. Nervously, he wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs. Oh, hell. Where was his briefcase? He couldn’t leave without that. Quickly he strode back to the wing chair in the lobby, but it wasn’t there. Where had he left it? Panic rising, he sprinted down the hallway toward Alex’s office. At least, he thought it was down this hallway—two identical corridors stretched off the main reception area. Both were wallpapered in beige linen, both were hung with unobtrusive artwork. He didn’t dare open any of the doors and risk running into someone. The hallway turned, and turned again. The offices on this side were larger. This must be where Alex’s office was. He could see that he was approaching the reception area again. Why couldn’t these people have bigger name tags on their office doors? He slowed down to read the name written on the door. A. Sangazure. Suddenly the door opened and a woman stalked out. She looked furious, ready to rip the next person she met to pieces with her bare hands. He gasped, then snapped his mouth shut. Perhaps if he flattened himself against the wall. He pressed against the beige linen, willing himself to melt into the decor. Too late. She turned, and their eyes met as they stood face to face. She was slender, with chin-length gray-streaked hair cut in a severe pageboy style. Older. No make-up. Loose, unfeminine, practical clothes. And her blue eyes were blazing with anger—not the kind of thing Jason liked to see. Jason liked sexy women, willing and friendly women, women with long hair and manicured fingernails and tight dresses. Women with vavoom. This female definitely didn’t have vavoom. The energy he was getting from her was more like kaboom. He did not want to be anywhere nearby when she exploded.

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She glared at him, and he stared back, hypnotized. His cock jerked in his pants, excited by the challenge in those blue eyes. Oh, this was bad news. Very bad news. His eyes wandered down to take in a nice pair of knockers and a slender waist. No, no, no, he didn’t want to get involved with a cougar who looked as if she ate salesmen for breakfast. A chill went up Jason’s spine. What the hell was going on? Even if he were the kind of bloke who liked other people’s mothers, he couldn’t possibly be hot for this woman. More than woman—as he watched her she seemed to grow larger somehow, filling up his field of vision until all he could see were those blazing, piercing eyes fringed by a curtain of silver, the image of a vengeful goddess bent on exacting retribution. He felt like groveling, which was not exactly his normal idea of a turn-on. Then he remembered the potion. Shit. He’d drunk some of it, showing off to that tight-ass blonde who had tried so hard to wreck the deal with Poindextre. This woman must have drunk the potion too. That would explain his sudden attack of desire for a woman who was definitely not his type. He was pretty sure he could have willed himself to walk away from her, if she’d already met someone under the influence and bonded with them. According to the literature, the potion only achieved its full effect when a person under its influence came into contact with another influenced person who had not yet bonded with anyone else. He looked at her again. Her expression had changed a little—the blue eyes looked dreamy. She licked her full, moist lips with a hungry little swipe of her pink tongue. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those lips. She must not have met anyone else yet. That meant the two of them had bonded, and he was doomed. His heart was slamming against his rib cage, his cock fully at attention. “Who are you?” Her voice was deep for a woman, with a breathy quality he found intoxicating. “Nobody,” he said, his voice thick. It took every ounce of will he possessed to take one step back, and then a second. He cleared his throat. “Nobody important. I’ll just be going, shall I?” “Wait,” she commanded. His feet stopped propelling him backward and instead riveted him to the floor. She advanced. He couldn’t avoid her. Some crazy, drug-addled part of him didn’t want to avoid her. If she touched him, it would be all over. A moan of despair started deep in his chest and began working its way to his throat. She reached out her hand. “You’re English, aren’t you?” He watched in fascination as the hand approached, short, neat nails unmarked by polish. It was moving in slow motion, coming toward him with agonizing slowness as he waited for the moment when it would make contact. Her fingers stretched toward his face. She was going to touch his cheek, naked skin to naked skin. Dread and desire warred within him. 102

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She touched him lightly, stroking her fingers down the side of his face, trailing from his temple down to his jaw, igniting a path of pure fire in her wake. The moan that had been building within him burst out. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes,” he said, turning his head toward her questing hand, pressing his lips to her fingers. Looking up he saw the heat that had leapt into her blue eyes, a fierce passion that threatened to consume him. He swayed toward her, knees weak. “Nice to meet a man so proud of his country.” A square but unmistakably feminine hand fisted around the lapel of his hand-tailored suit jacket, drawing him close. It was the damage to his suit coat that partially broke the trance. The damn thing had cost the earth, and required endless care and expensive dry cleaning, and this brainless bint was mangling it. He drew back. “I’m sorry, madam,” he said as he hastily untangled her hand from his lapel. “You’ve probably mistaken me for someone else. Can’t stay, must go. Goodbye.” He scrambled backward, dodging her grasping hands. “No! You can’t leave,” she shrieked. “I must,” he panted. He turned and ran. He could hear her footsteps pelting behind him. “Come back, damn you!” He had almost reached the turn in the hallway when she flung herself at him and caught him around the waist. Down they both tumbled, Jason on the bottom. He landed face-first with a thud that drove the air from his lungs. As he gasped for breath, she climbed up to sit on his back with her legs straddling him. “Now I’ve got you.” He looked up at her over his shoulder. “Madam, please. This is all a terrible mistake. Think about it. You’re not acting like yourself.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, and she was still breathing hard from the exertion of tackling him. Her short hair was swinging around her face, and a few strands had caught in the corner of her mouth in a rather fetching way. She blinked twice. “You’re right. This is definitely not normal.” “So would you kindly let me up?” He spoke in the most controlled, quiet tones he could manage, throwing in an upper class inflection in hopes of sounding more authoritative. She thought about it for a moment. “Okay.” She climbed off his back and they both stood up. Jason dusted himself off. “Thank you. I’ll just say goodbye, then, now.” She grabbed him by the tie this time. “Oh, no, you don’t.” She glanced around, then wrenched open a door marked 2102-Conference. “In here, buster. I want some explanations.” He found himself flung into a small windowless conference room with a rectangular table surrounded by a half dozen chairs. He halted his spin by bracing both hands against the edge of the table, then turned to face his assailant.

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He didn’t like the way she was looking at him as she closed the door behind her. She was frowning, but her eyes burned with something other than anger as she pinned him in place with her stare. She reached behind her back. Then he heard the snick of a lock. “I don’t know what you imagine I could tell you,” he said. It was an effort to keep his voice steady. Damn it, his stomach was quivering like a jelly and his cock was getting hard again. She came forward and planted a hand on each of the chairs that bracketed him. They stood nose to nose. Those lovely round globes of her breasts swung toward him, almost touching his chest. Heat rolled off her body in waves, scorching his chest, his belly, his unprotected loins. Her skirt was almost brushing against his trousers just where his thickened cock stood at attention. “I know that,” she said quietly. Seductively. His eyes met hers. Their faces were so close he could see the striations in her irises, tiny stipples of gray and blue like a stormy ocean. She had him in her power. “And I’ve got to say, I love a man with an English accent. But not enough to tackle him in the hallway of my own law offices. So who are you and exactly what have you done to me?” She placed her hand on his shirt and stroked his chest from breast pocket to beltline. His nipples came suddenly to attention and he involuntarily sucked in his stomach as her hand plunged down to his waist. Heat began to pool deep inside him. “Nothing,” he gasped. “That is, I’m Jason Wells of JWW Enterprises Ltd. And I came here to-to discuss some business with Mr. Poindextre, of Sangazure and Poindextre. That’s all.” Her caress halted abruptly. “You’re doing business with Marmaduke Poindextre?” “No, no, Alex Poindextre. The nephew,” he blurted out. “Oh.” She relaxed and began to unbutton his shirt. “What kind of business?” He looked down at her busy fingers. “Wait, what are you doing? You can’t undress me. This is a law firm, for god’s sake.” But his uncooperative hands refused to push her away as she took his suit coat and flung it to one side. “Sure I can,” she said with an evil grin. “I’m Ann Sangazure. And you are one hot hard-body. We’ll come back to the cross examination later on.” She loosened his tie. “But I’m not a client of this firm,” he said weakly. The buttons on his dress shirt seemed to fly open, and she spread his shirt apart. “I’m making an exception just for you,” she said and unbuckled his belt. “I’m not used to this sort of treatment,” he protested. “I’m not from this country.” “Welcome to America,” she replied and yanked down the zipper on his trousers. Her hands burrowed into his underwear and released his heavy, swollen cock from its confinement. He groaned as he felt her soft hands wrapping around its length, stroking him, and then reaching underneath to gather his balls and ease them out as well. 104

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The cool air wafted over his exposed penis and scrotum, making him aware of exactly how vulnerable he was. Then she knelt in front of him and took him in her mouth. He almost lost control right there, as her wet, hot lips closed around him. Her tongue circled the swollen head, and his cock jerked even higher than it had been before. Pressure built inside him, tightening the base of his spine. Then she engulfed him fully, sliding his entire length into her mouth until he could touch the back of her throat. He could feel the edges of her teeth rasping lightly along his length. She lifted her tongue to press against his shaft, and increased the suction on his engorged penis. His hips rose off the table as lightning bolts of pleasure crackled through him. With one hand she manipulated his balls while her mouth slid up and down his shaft, tongue curling around him, teeth covered but deliciously close, as the waves of sensation built inside him. The tension was unbearable. His cock and balls were on fire. She was completely in control—he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except surrender to her demanding mouth. The tidal wave rose, crested, and crashed over him. With a groan he pumped a tremendous load into her waiting mouth and then collapsed back onto the conference table. Ann gazed down at the young man stretched across the conference table, his dress shirt unbuttoned and spreading in rumpled folds around his taut and muscled torso. Trousers of a dark, fine wool that matched his suit jacket were puddled around his ankles, dragged even farther down by a sleek black belt. Twin ledges of hipbone angled down toward his cock, now quiescent, which lay in a nest of black hair at the base of his lean stomach. His eyes were closed, head thrown back so that his Adam’s apple pointed straight up from his neck. He looked so young. God, he was little more than a boy, and she had taken him without even a second thought. Ravished him, overwhelmed him, owned him. And she was glad. It was unbelievable. She never acted like this, never took advantage of others—she was too well aware of how easy it was for those in power to abuse their rights. Just look at how men had treated women over the years, taking for granted and as their due what should have been a precious gift willingly and freely given. But she had taken this youth without mercy and without remorse. Looking at his magnificent young body, with its sleek muscles and firm, ripe flesh, she knew without a doubt she would do it again. Just the sight of him sparked a strange hunger within her, an irresistible desire to touch him, fondle him, feel him inside her. She hated herself for it, but couldn’t deny the compulsion. Ann had never done anything she’d known to be wrong before. She prided herself on her willpower and her commitment to her beliefs. Years ago, when she’d wanted a child but refused to consider marriage, had she not chosen artificial insemination by a

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suitable donor from the sperm bank? And knowing Duke Poindextre would never consider an affair that didn’t end in marriage, had she not spent the past several decades denying her feelings for him rather than compromise her principles? And, more difficult still, knowing that she couldn’t have the one man she wanted, hadn’t she given up sex altogether? Maybe that last choice hadn’t been the best idea she’d ever had, Ann thought as she contemplated the feast of masculine flesh laid out before her. It seemed very unlikely that Duke had remained celibate for her sake all these years—not that she would have asked that of him. But she’d forgotten how good it could feel to throw caution to the winds and be naughty. The way this young fellow had looked at her—lustful, hot-eyed, mindless with desire—had filled her with exultation. And then to take control of him, do whatever she wanted to him and watch him writhe helplessly under her hands and mouth! The rush of power she’d felt was unlike anything else she’d ever experienced. Well, except for the feeling of cross-examining a hostile witness who had something to hide, and breaking them wide open. For a moment she wondered if there were a way to combine sex and cross-examination. It would certainly add an interesting dimension to court proceedings. He opened his eyes and saw her, and a sweet blush mounted to his smooth cheeks. She allowed one corner of her mouth to lift, then the feeling of satisfaction spread through her and the smirk grew into a grin. He brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Good lord, I can’t believe we—” He stopped, and blinked. Ann waited, holding her breath. His gaze roamed over her, no doubt taking in her plain Oxford-cloth shirt, her sensible skirt, and her short, no-nonsense haircut. So why did it feel as if he was focusing in on her lips, soft and swollen from sucking him? His focus moved lower, and her hand moved automatically to her shirt front, where she discovered that a number of buttons were undone, letting her shirt gape open to expose her bra. She must have kicked off her shoes somewhere, too. What else was disordered, she wondered, and reached up to discover that her hair was tumbled wildly around her head. He sat up and stripped his clothing completely off, never looking away from her. His movements were lithe and quick. She was mesmerized by the play of muscle and bone sliding under his skin. He was a gorgeous male animal. He pushed himself off the conference table and came toward her. “Now let’s see what we can do about you.” His cock was rising again. Ann took a step back. Her heart was suddenly beating hard. “That’s okay.” How could he look so strong and sexy, even without any clothes on? She had to look away, like you look away from the blazing sun. His hands wrapped around her upper arms. He was close to her, so close she could feel the heat from his naked flesh. She felt something press against her skirt. Was that his cock, nudging her belly? The thought sent a spear of lightning into her core. Her underpants became damp.

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She felt him caress her face, then his hand slid down to work at her shirt buttons. His lips touched her temple, then a warm, wet trail formed along the side of her jaw and down her neck. She pulled away. “No.” He swung her around, effortlessly, and pinned her against the conference table. “What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,” he said. His questing lips and tongue moved downward to her breastbone, and shivers began to spread over Ann’s body. Her shirt dropped off her shoulders, and was followed by her front-hooked bra. She was undressed to the waist, her nipples standing at attention. She lifted her hands to cover herself, and found that the buttons on her cuffs were still fastened. Impatiently she tugged at the sleeves, trying to free her wrists but to no avail. Her hands were trapped inside the sleeves of her shirt. She arched her back and reached behind her body for the other cuff, trying to work the button loose with the opposite hand. Her breasts, swinging free, rose and bobbed around from the effort. “Well, well,” he said. “Don’t be impatient, now.” She barely had time to realize what she’d done before his lips and teeth closed over one nipple. Pleasure shot straight to her groin. “No,” she gasped. “Don’t do—” But his hands had snaked behind her back and dragged down the zipper on her skirt. Then he pushed the skirt down over her hips, along with her half-slip. Her clothes fell to the floor. Now she was naked except for her underpants. Her breath was coming hard now, and her heart pounded. Tension was coiling inside her, along with frustration and a touch of panic. She didn’t want this. Why wasn’t she telling him to stop? She opened her mouth to speak but the words clogged in the thickness of her throat and wouldn’t come out. His warm hands stroked the sides of her body, and then she felt his thumbs working their way beneath the elastic of her cotton panties. Slowly, the fabric slid down, rasping against the curls on her mons, slipping down beneath the swell of her buttocks and loosening to fall down her thighs. She was naked, now. Her nipple was being mercilessly sucked and tormented, and her hands were still trapped inside her damn shirt. He released her nipple and grinned up at her. “Fair’s fair. Now we’re both in the altogether.” “Could you—” She struggled some more with the cuffs of her shirt. “Could you undo these buttons?” Frowning, he lifted one fabric-covered hand and then her other, turning them over to inspect the recalcitrant fastenings. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Oh, dear,” he said clucking his tongue. “We’re in something of a tangle, aren’t we?” “Yes, exactly. Now if you could just—” He shook his head. “Oh, no, I hardly think so.”

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“What?” “Perhaps later, if you’re quite a good girl.” He grinned and moved in closer, his hands around her naked waist. His cock, hard now, knocked against her hip. “Sit up here now.” She wiggled up onto the table, grumbling and protesting. Suddenly he seemed older, more in control. There was a sexy, dirty, knowing look in his eyes—a look that infuriated her even as it made her laugh. How could he be doing this to her? Was she losing her edge, somehow lacking her usual air of authority? He should be intimidated by her—most younger men were. Although her present situation was not conducive to projecting an air of authority. It was hard to intimidate someone when you were mostly naked with your hands tangled in your own shirtsleeves. Not that it wasn’t kind of fun. His hands were still warm as they cradled her hips. “Now lie back,” he ordered. “And spread.” “Now wait a minute—” He gave her that look, that one that knew too much. “Now.” Against her better judgment, but still strangely excited, she lay back. Eileen stared blankly at the computer screen pulsing faintly before her. One hour spent on one measly paragraph! And she would have to scrap it anyway. Did she trust Alex? Outside her window, the sky was a glowing cobalt blue, and the darkened office buildings bulked like black rectangles patched with intermittent squares of gold. The city was about to shut down for the evening. Columbus was not yet a 24/7 metropolis, for its inhabitants had still not shaken off the early-to-bed, early-to-rise farmer’s ways of their parents and grandparents. She couldn’t focus. Her stomach churned. No, she didn’t trust Alex. Her mind bounced from her last conversation with Alex to that odd scene with Ann earlier in the day. It was so unlike her mother to act motherly. It was really unlike her to give advice laden with sentiment and traditional values. And in the office, too, when usually Ann was one hundred percent Ann, and zero percent Mom. Could Ann have been right? Eileen nibbled at a fingernail, a bad habit she thought she’d broken herself of years ago. Maybe she should have listened to her mother, and been willing to compromise for the sake of the relationship. Outside her office, footsteps pattered down the hall. At least she wasn’t the only person working late. A woman’s giggle floated through the air, muted by the wall’s insulation. Eileen frowned momentarily. That was unusual. Most people who were forced to stay late in the office weren’t too happy about it. 108

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She shrugged mentally. People were people. They were probably having to work late because of the engagement party. That’s why she was still there. And Alex was still in his office too—he hadn’t dropped by to tell her he was leaving yet. That was one of the things she loved most about him—he cared about other people. No matter how angry he was with her, he wouldn’t just leave without making sure she had someone to walk to her car with. Eileen went over the situation with Alex in her mind. What if she’d gone along with him, trusted him, supported him without question? Maybe he’d been right. She didn’t trust him. What is trust but being willing to believe, despite all the evidence, that you could be wrong and the other person might just be right? So she didn’t trust Alex, but she was going to marry him. Was that fair? No! Of course not. That must have been what her mother was trying to say, find a way to trust. No man—or person—was an island. We all needed each other. If she and Alex were going to be happy, she would have to find a way to trust him. Eileen got to her feet. Maybe it wasn’t too late to apologize. She could drop by his office and discuss it, and explain that she had changed her mind. She smiled. Already she felt as if a large weight had dropped from her shoulders. This was the right thing to do! She would show him she trusted him. Even though it had taken a little while for her to come around. She brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt, threw her shoulders back and marched out of her office. There was no one in the hallway, which wasn’t surprising. Very few people lingered in the office late on a Friday night. She moved quickly, heading down the hall to Alexis’ office past the staff kitchen. The light was still on in the kitchen, and she ducked in to turn it off. No sense in wasting electricity. But as her hand reached for the switch, she saw the coffee urn sitting beside the sink. It was still plugged in, showing that there must still be coffee left in it. With a disapproving cluck of her tongue, Eileen went to shut it off and unplug it. There wasn’t anyone left to drink the stuff, so why keep it on? She reached out her hand, and as she did an idea came to her. This was probably the “special” coffee. This was the stuff Alex wanted her to drink, the stuff she’d refused, the stuff that had caused so much trouble. It was a sign. She was being given another chance. Quickly she rummaged through the cabinets for a plastic cup. She had better do it fast, or she’d lose her nerve, and it would take too long to go back to her office for her favorite coffee mug. What else did she need? Powdered creamer. She usually drank it black, but by now the coffee would have cooked down to a sludge of near-nuclear intensity, and she’d never get it down without plenty of additives. She mixed it up with a plastic stirrer, and looked down at the mocha-colored liquid. There were little swirls of undissolved creamer in it, and it smelled as potent as whiskey. It turned her stomach. She set the cup down. She didn’t want to drink this nasty potion. Maybe she could dump it down the drain and just say she was sorry for not going along with his coffee idea. She could

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assure him that from now on, she would trust him. But would he forgive her? This scheme had meant a lot to him. He cared so much. He did so much. All that time he spent traveling around the city, lecturing about the evils of rankism and trying to make the world a better place. And she was proud to be the one he wanted to have standing by his side, sharing in his toil and his triumphs. She heard Alexis’ voice, muted by walls and air conditioning to wordless sound. He was in his office. A wave of guilt washed over her. She ought to trust him. She ought to do as he asked. She could drink the coffee and then go straight to him, and tell him that she believed in him. She trusted him. And to prove it, she had drunk the coffee. Holding her breath, she grabbed the cup of coffee and drank. She drained the cup, then twisted her face up in disgust. It had been shudderingly vile. She rinsed the nasty taste out of her mouth with some tap water. It took a moment or two longer for her to get her stomach under control, leaning against the counter and breathing deeply and evenly. She really didn’t feel well. Sitting down at one of the small square lunch tables, she rested her head on her folded arms. The room stopped spinning when she closed her eyes. When her eyes opened again, she felt better. According to the clock on the wall, about a half an hour had passed, so she must have fallen asleep for a bit. She stood, gave herself a good shake. Well, surely now she had done enough penance to suit anyone, she thought as she cleaned up. The cup went into the trash, the container of creamer back in the cabinet. She still felt a little queasy but it would soon pass. Conscious of her noble efforts, she strode to the door. Now to see Alex, and make everything right again. Her mind was so full of thoughts of Alex that she ran headlong into a solid form entering the kitchen as she was leaving. “Oof!” “Whoops! Sorry—oh, it’s you, Eileen. I didn’t know you were still here,” Roger Daly said, catching her. “I thought you were probably…” His voice trailed off.

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Chapter Eleven Their eyes met, locked. Eileen’s heart squeezed in her chest. Roger Daly’s eyes, hazel eyes, round with astonishment, looked back into hers. She was so close to him that she inhaled the warm, masculine scent of him with every breath, and every nerve in her body suddenly leapt to life with awareness of him. “Roger…” She was overwhelmed by him, suddenly, frantically hungry for him in a way she had never imagined possible. Her brain was crammed full of images of filling herself with Roger in every way she could, biting and sucking his smooth flesh, grabbing handfuls of his hair, pressing his well-tended hands to her naked bottom, wrapping her legs around his neatly clad torso and urging his cock into her hungry pussy. He groaned. It was enough. The images in her mind became actions. She reached for him, pulled him close, and ripped his conservative, inexpensive dress shirt open to the waist. She plunged her hands under his cotton undershirt and explored his chest. He backed her up against the kitchen counter and responded to her with fumbling eagerness. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His hands actually shook as they plucked at her blouse and gathered up folds of her skirt. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Believe me when I tell you I have nothing but the highest regard for you as a colleague—umph!” She had slapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t talk,” Eileen said, and released her hand long enough to replace it with her mouth. As she kissed him, she wrapped one leg around his hips and ground herself into him. He responded with another inarticulate sound. His hands stroked her back and sides frantically, then moved forward to rub her breasts with his palms. She captured one hand and moved his thumb and forefinger, showing him how to roll one nipple to a hard peak. Hazily, she wondered why he didn’t already know to do that. Alex did—he knew exactly what she liked. But perhaps Roger’s girlfriend liked it a different way, she decided before unbuckling his belt and reaching for him. “Wait,” Roger gasped. He put one hand into her panties and tentatively brushed his fingers against her slit. She couldn’t help putting her hand over his and pressing down hard, forcing him to invade her damp recess. She needed his fingers in her, needed him to tease her awakening clit, to ease its throb and make the heat build within her. “I can’t wait,” she said, dizzied by the truth and the strangeness of the situation. “I can’t fight it.”

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“Neither can I,” said Roger with a groan. His brain was reeling. He was clumsy and shaking with lust, knowing full well that he should take his hands off this fellow attorney, this colleague, this woman, but for the life of him he couldn’t do it. And astonishingly, she was encouraging him. There was no question that she wanted him to do it. Don’t talk. Don’t think. He pushed her against one of the tables and she rocked back on her naked hips to wrap both legs around his waist. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He was going to have sex for the first time. Not with the right woman, of course, but he was never going to have Connie, so he humbly accepted the gift of relief and pleasure Eileen offered. Her body felt amazingly good under his hands. And she had already taught him a few things about how to please a woman. And now satisfaction was almost his. His aroused cock, freed from his tight cotton jockey shorts, was pressing against the entrance to her vagina. His entire body was shaking with effort, his eyes glazed. He braced himself to push into her body. “I don’t understand it,” Eileen whispered. “What’s happening to us?” “I don’t know,” Roger admitted. But he’d be damned if he was going to stop now. “What the hell is going on here?” The words were a distant, muted echo in Roger’s lust-fevered mind. The only real thing was the damp, open pussy delicately kissing the tip of his rampant tool. He pushed. Eileen gasped and convulsively tightened her arms and legs around his waist. His cock slid into her body. He groaned with pleasure. “Alex!” she shrieked. She thrust Roger away. His cock slid all the way out, and he groaned with despair. “Eileen!” Alex thundered. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it!” Eileen scrambled off the table and started yanking her clothes back into place. Roger’s mind was whirling, his hyper-aroused body protesting against the separation from Eileen’s. Guilt and shame lashed at him, while lust clenched its vicious jaws around his brain and wouldn’t let go. It was all he could do not to dive for her and beg to bury himself in her so that he could lose himself in mindless, overwhelming release. But why her? Why now? It made no sense. He couldn’t focus long enough to reason it all out. “Is this what has been going on behind my back?” Alex demanded. “Is this why you wouldn’t take the potion? What were you planning to do, Eileen, marry me and then keep good old Buckeye Roger around for variety? How long has this been going on?” 112

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“Not long enough,” muttered Roger. He reached for Eileen, but she skipped away from him and kept fastening her clothes. “No, Alex,” Eileen said. “You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what is going on, I swear. I was coming to apologize for not trusting you. I came in here to turn off the light, saw the coffee, and I drank it—for you! I drank it and I was going to go straight into your office to show you how much I loved and trusted you. Then I ran into Roger and—” Her voice broke. “Oh, right, blame it on the potion,” Alex said sarcastically. “Is that supposed to be why you were playing hide the salami with Daly no more than fifteen feet away from my office door? The potion makes people friendly and tolerant, Eileen, it doesn’t turn them into sex maniacs.” Roger frowned. “Potion? What are you talking about?” “Never mind, Roger. It’s got nothing to do with this.” Eileen glared at Alex. “If you drank the coffee at our little engagement party this afternoon, Roger, you drank the potion. It was Alex’s idea. He said it would make people nicer to each other.” “Oh my god.” Roger passed his hand over his forehead. “Everyone? You fed us all something in the coffee?” Alex drew himself up. “It was merely a harmless substance that assists in the breakdown of interpersonal barriers.” Eileen snorted. “Breakdown? I’ll say. We’ve broken down a few interpersonal barriers haven’t we, Roger?” Roger shook his head, then nodded. He tried to think. He’d never been attracted to Eileen before, so perhaps his present feelings for her had been artificially induced. But just thinking of Eileen made his hands reach out for her. She slapped them away. “I told you not to trust Jason,” she snarled at Alex. “He tricked you. That stuff is a love potion, and everyone in the office is under the influence right now.” “That’s it.” Alex said. “I’ve had enough.” He stalked into his office. Eileen followed him. “What are you going to do?” He glared at her. “I’m going to settle this once and for all.”

***** Alex cleared his throat and then spoke into the intercom on his phone. “All personnel. Please meet in the office lobby area in five minutes for an important announcement. Repeat. This is Alex Poindextre, and I have an important announcement to make in five minutes in the main lobby. Thank you.” He threw the receiver down and strode furiously down the hall. “Jason?” He bellowed. No answer.

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Hearing some voices down the hallway, he strode in that direction. He was going to have some words with that idiot when he found him. He could hear voices echoing down the hallway and picked up his pace. He marched into the Wills and Trusts department, mind fully occupied with what he was going to say to Jason. He stopped short. Jason was not in the Wills and Trusts department, and Alex was completely unprepared for what was there. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Miranda, Eileen’s secretary, was naked, a big expanse of pink pale flesh. She was straddling John, the balding paralegal from Wills and Trusts, who was lying face up on the floor. Clothes were strewn everywhere around them. Their faces were strained as they moved together. “Hey!” It was a dumb thing to say, but it was the first coherent sound his outraged brain could produce. Alex tried again. “What do you think you’re doing?” Neither of them looked up or even seemed to notice him. Alex backpedaled into the hall. He touched his forehead, and found he was sweating. Damn, what a sight. Who knew those two were secret lovers, considering the way they usually acted toward each other? More sounds came from down the hall. Alex moved carefully now, afraid of what he might find. A quick peek around a partition showed two more couples, naked and going at it with wild abandon. Alex squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell? He ran down the hallway and around the corner. Couples everywhere—naked, groaning, piles of flesh. It was a mass orgy involving the entire office personnel. Roger groaned as Eileen chased Alex out of the kitchenette. His cock was bursting, his brain was equally about to explode. He’d come so close. So close to coming, he thought, but the weak humor just made his head hurt more. He needed relief. Things couldn’t get any worse than this. For some inexplicable reason he’d been drugged by Alex Poindextre. The drug had driven him to have sex with Eileen Sangazure. Then they’d been caught in the act, and Alex—who was responsible for this insanity—had blamed him. Him! He would laugh if it weren’t so awful. He leaned heavily against a filing cabinet that had been arranged to partition off some space for an administrative assistant. His fingers dug into his hair and he tugged, hoping the pain would bring some clarity and order to his fevered brain. A soft sound, like a gasp, caught his attention. He froze. Everyone else in the office had taken the drug, too. What fresh hell could this be? He didn’t think he could get away very fast, hampered as he was by the enormous erection straining to escape from his trousers, but he wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences if he were plunged into some new orgiastic revel.

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He was going to take this straight to the top. Connie sighed as she looked around Duke’s spacious, elegant office. She was meant to be with Roger. But they weren’t together. She was engaged to Duke. Frustration welled up inside her, filling her mouth with a bitter taste. She liked Duke—all right, more than liked him, she felt oddly drawn to him. But she just wasn’t the right person for him. But she was stuck. Roger had sworn that he wouldn’t come between her and Duke. Why couldn’t Roger just grab her and carry her off, and never mind what anybody else thought? In a book, that would be what the hero—the real hero—would do. But Roger wouldn’t be Roger if he did something like that. The door to Duke’s office burst open. Roger Daly staggered in, his normally neat hair standing on end and his clothing twisted and mussed. Duke glared at Roger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Daly?” Roger glared back, in a very un-Roger-like way. He pulled Connie to her feet and took her in his arms. “Connie is mine. I’m in love with her, and you’re not.” Joy welled up inside her, filling her, expanding in her chest until she thought her heart would burst. Tears spilled from her eyes, overflowing from her heart. He loved her! Roger loved her! But one glance at Duke brought back that strange, powerful compulsion to be with the older man. She wavered. Duke wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back. “Too bad. I’m marrying her, and you’re not.” “Let me go,” Connie said shrilly. She untangled herself from the two men and slumped down on the sofa, out of arm’s reach. The two of them continued to argue. “You keep your hands off my fiancée.” “Yeah, but why is she your fiancée? Haven’t you wondered about that?” “Why should I?” Duke glanced at Connie uneasily. Connie sat up. “Yeah. I’ve been wondering about that. Not that I’m not thrilled and flattered and all. But it’s all so, I don’t know.” “So sudden?” Roger supplied, nodding vigorously. “So unexpected? So weirdly out-of-character?” “Enough,” Duke stood up and paced around. “Just because a relationship comes to fruition in an unexpected moment doesn’t mean it hasn’t been there all along, unrecognized, unacknowledged, but present, waiting for the right time to manifest.” Roger took a deep breath. “But this hasn’t been there all along. You’ve been under the influence of a powerful drug.” “What?” roared Duke. “Impossible.” Connie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Like a date-rape drug?”

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“Something of the sort, I gather,” Roger said. “Except this one made everyone who drank the coffee at Eileen and Alexis’ engagement party become uncontrollably, uh, attracted to the next person they saw.” “Oh, my god. It was in the coffee?” Connie felt horrified. “That is the wildest, most irresponsible allegation I’ve ever heard. And in my long career at the Bar, I’ve heard some doozies,” “That must have been it.” Connie tried to think back. Duke patted her arm. “My dear, you can’t believe everything you hear. It is far more logical to assume that our attraction has been unspoken but of long-standing, and that it suddenly could no longer be denied.” “Your nephew has already admitted responsibility,” Roger said. “He says he put, or caused to be put, an unknown substance into the office coffeepot with the intention of altering the behavior of the members of the law firm.” “Ridiculous,” Duke said. “If he did, I’ll throttle him with my bare hands.” “But why?” Connie wailed. “He said he thought it would promote tolerance and equality.” Connie frowned. “By making people fall in love with the first person they saw? I don’t think that’s how Gandhi did it.” “Well, evidently the potion didn’t work as expected,” Roger explained. “It wasn’t supposed to make people desire one another sexually. According to Alex, the salesman claimed that it would simply remove a person’s unconscious prejudices and promote tolerance among the employees of the law firm. If so, it’s a clear-cut case of violating the implied warranty of fitness for a particular purpose.” Duke’s expression of rage faded into thoughtfulness and his eyes started to gleam. He rubbed his hands together. “Well, yes, that would violate the implied warranty. If the salesman had made definite claims as to the function of the product, and its effect was quite different…” “But why didn’t Alex tell anyone what he was doing?” Connie asked. “If he wanted to help people be more tolerant, he could have asked us if we wanted to try the stuff.” “I don’t believe my nephew would be stupid enough to slip a potion in the coffee. No matter how determined he was to change society.” Duke sounded uneasy and his excitement seemed to fade. “Well, sir, he and Eileen were arguing about it a few minutes ago. He was angry when he discovered—well, Eileen was in on the whole experiment but she had refused to take the potion.” “Eileen refused?” Connie asked. “Why, if it was just supposed to make you a nicer person?” “Something about him not trusting her.” Roger shifted uncomfortably. “But apparently, she changed her mind and drank the stuff after all, and she—well, I—and it seems Alex rather misunderstood the situation.” 116

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Connie gasped. “The potion made you do it with Eileen?” Unhappily, Roger nodded. “You had sex with Eileen?” Connie repeated. “Um, er…” Roger sounded as if he were strangling. He cleared his throat. “I think that was, well, the gist of the, um, facts.” “How dare you!” Duke thundered. “She’s like a daughter to me!” “Are you in love with her?” Connie asked shyly. “No!” Roger reached out for Connie as though he wanted to take her in his arms, but stopped short. His hands stretched out toward her in a pleading gesture. “You’re the one I care about. But when I saw Eileen I couldn’t help myself, because of the drug.” “Oh, sure, it was the drug.” Duke snorted. “So what are you saying, is that you’ve developed some new kind of moving violation? FUI? Fucking while intoxicated?” The crackle of the intercom system interrupted their debate. “Attention all staff. Attention all staff. Effective immediately the engagement between Eileen Sangazure and Alex Poindextre is at an end. I have no further information to report. We thank you for your understanding at this difficult time.”

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Chapter Twelve Zoe opened her eyes as the intercom spit and growled over her head. She unwound the computer cable from her wrist and struggled to sit up. Kevin’s dark head was pillowed between her breasts and his long heavy body was draped across hers. “Your understanding at this difficult time.” The intercom snapped off. “Move, you,” she said, shoving away the long arms that twined around her. The arms tightened briefly and then fell away. Kevin grumbled as he sat up. Zoe struggled to put her bra and sweater on properly, wincing at the sudden roughness of the fabric against her skin. Certain parts of her just didn’t want to be touched. “Mmm.” Kevin reached for her. She fought down the little thrill of excitement as she batted away his hands and stood up. “Stop it. I want to find out what’s going on upstairs.” She wiggled her skirt down over her hips. “Who cares? It’s the weekend now. Whatever it is can wait until Monday.” Kevin had lain back down with his arm thrown across his eyes. He showed no sign of wanting to get up and put his own clothes on. She admired the planes and angles of his long, lean brown body, which looked like sculpture in the harsh fluorescent light. “Well, I’m going.” She stalked to the door and looked back. “Don’t you want to come with me?” He pulled his arm away and gazed at her from under those long, dark lashes. “Stay here.” “Come on,” she said impatiently. He sighed and got to his feet, pulling on his clothes with effortless grace. Soon his admirable body was covered in its usual jeans and undistinguished shirts. “Why do you care what those idiots do? Alex Poindextre gets a bug up his ass and you’re ready to jump in and kiss him wherever it hurts.” “Stop grumbling and come along,” Zoe said, and strode out the door. She covered about ten feet before turning to see if he would join her. Damn. This was crazy—she should just walk away from him. But Kevin was slouching toward the door. Maybe this invisible cord tying them together worked both ways. They managed to make it into the elevator before they drifted close enough to touch again. In the reception area, about twenty people—almost as many as had come to the engagement party earlier in the day—had gathered in the open space. Miranda, Eileen Sangazure’s secretary, grabbed Alex’s arm. 118

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“Alex, where is Eileen?” “No idea. Don’t you know?” At least Miranda was dressed this time. Alex stared at her rumpled clothing and reddened, pouty lips. Holding her hand was John Best, whose scanty hair looked as if it had blown into a pair of horns on either side of his head. Nearby, Zoe Partlett stood with her knuckles planted on her hips. Kevin Malcolm, the tech support guy, loomed behind her, so close they were almost touching. Eileen was standing at the other side of the reception area, arms crossed tightly. Roger Daly was hovering a little behind her, as if he was trying to decide whether he was protecting her or hiding behind her. Alex pushed his way into the center of the group. He lifted both hands in a gesture like one calming the masses. “Could everyone please quiet down? Thank you.” A female attorney charged up to him. “What the hell is going on around here?” “That’s just what I will explain, if you’ll give me a minute,” Alex answered loud enough to address everyone. Eileen walked forward. “Never mind. I’ll do it.” She turned to face the gathered employees. “Alex and I have decided to end our engagement because of irreconcilable differences.” “And the fact that you were screwing Roger Daly right in the kitchenette,” Alex added. Roger looked abashed, but moved nervously to stand beside Eileen. A mutter spread through the group. Eileen whipped around to face Alex. “I couldn’t help it! I drank the potion in the coffee, just like you wanted me to. I did it for you.” “Be fair,” Roger put in. “She wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t spiked the coffee. None of us would have.” With a sweeping gesture he indicated the bedraggled-looking couples crowding the hallway. A surprised murmur rippled through the group. “What about Connie?” murmured Zoe, loud enough for Roger to hear. Roger hung his head. “It was just an in-and-out sort of thing. But the important thing is, we were acting under an irresistible impulse. We didn’t know, that is, I didn’t know that I was drinking anything but coffee, and neither did Eileen.” Connie turned to Zoe eager to explain. “So Duke and me—” “Duke and I, my dear,” the senior Poindextre said. “We were acting under—” “It’s not my fault!” Alex yelled. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! Where’s that damn sorcerer?” “If he’s smart, he’s already left,” Eileen said. “This is going to be a hell of a products liability case.” “I wondered what was going on,” remarked Miranda as John Best continued to nuzzle her neck.

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Eileen pointed at her secretary. “Oh my god. You drank the coffee too. Listen, everyone. The potion—the stuff that’s making everyone behave this way—was in the office coffeepot. If you drank the coffee at the engagement party, you got a dose. Look around you. Have you found yourself violently attracted to someone that you never looked at twice, maybe never even liked before?” Across the room, Zoe slapped Kevin lightly on the shoulder. “You asshole, you took advantage of me.” He grinned. “If I’d known about this, I would have given you two cups.” “I’m outta here,” Zoe said. He grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you’re not. I’ve got a few things to say to you first.” Eileen continued. “Everything that has happened tonight is the result of a foreign substance being placed in the coffeepot—” “Now wait just a minute here—” Alex shouted. “By none other than Jason Wellington Wells, of JWW Enterprises LTD. Where is that skunk?” Another thought struck her. “And where is Mom?” Alex looked around as if Anne might be hiding somewhere in the room. “I don’t know. Where could she be?” “And with who?” Connie added thoughtfully. “With whom, my dear,” Duke corrected her. Connie gave him a long look. “Yeah. Well, maybe we had better have a look around.” The door of the small conference room banged open, making Eileen jump. A young man with dark hair staggered out. His hair was rumpled, his tie crooked and his natty slacks buttoned at the waist but not zipped. He regarded the assembled office workers with a bleary eye. “I’ll just be leaving now, shall I? Cheer-o. Lovely to have met you.” Ann Sangazure stalked out behind him, bright-eyed and smirking despite looking as if she’d dressed herself during a gale-force wind. She grabbed the back of the man’s shirt and yanked. “You’re not going anywhere, buster.” Duke gave a roar. “Sangazure, what the hell have you been doing with that—that boy toy?” “Same as you’ve been doing with Connie Gentry, you old goat. I saw the two of you. Dammit, and when I think that I’ve been holding out for you all these years—” “You’ve been holding out?” he thundered. “Hell, I’ve been waiting for you! How could you do this to me?” “How could you sleep with her?” she shot back, stabbing one finger at Connie. “You could have had me!” “He didn’t!” Connie said indignantly.

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Roger put his arm around Connie’s shoulders. “Now see here, you two, we’ve all been victims of—” “For thirty years I’ve wanted you,” Duke roared. “And I’ve wanted you! But you wanted marriage, and I was damned if I’d give up my career to play the Happy Homemaker.” Roger raised his voice to be heard over the shouting. “Victims of a fraud, drugged against our wills—” “Mr. Alex Poindextre signed a liability waiver,” Jason Wells pointed out to Roger. “It’s standard in our sales contract.” The usually mild-mannered contracts lawyer turned on the salesman with a snarl. “You just wait until I get my hands on that contract.” “Sorry, must leave. Do make an appointment at your earliest convenience.” Jason spun around and lunged for the glass doors. “Don’t let him go!” Ann Sangazure grabbed Jason by the collar and yanked him back. Duke frogmarched him to the front of the room. Alex turned to him. “Jason, you told me that the Philios potion would promote goodwill and camaraderie among the people at the firm,” he said. “Not cause an orgy.” “Slight miscalculation, old chap,” Jason said weakly. “You misrepresented your product to the kid here?” Duke demanded. “You’re going to be sorry for that,” Ann said. “We’re going to sue your ass off, Wells.” “You’ll be begging for mercy when I get done with you,” Eileen grated. Jason struggled. “No. Please, you don’t understand. You can’t do that. You need me.” “I sincerely doubt that,” Roger Daly said. “It’s true! You need me to lift the spell.” There was a moment of silence. Eileen crossed her arms. “Then you’d better get busy, sorcerer.” Jason smiled at her, relieved, and shook off the hands that held him. He tugged his shirt back into place and zipped up his trousers before pulling a cell phone out of one pocket. Taking two steps away from the watching crowd, he punched in a number. Every eye was on Jason as he slouched against the wall, phone to his ear. Eileen realized she was holding her breath. Suddenly Jason straightened up. “Ah, Ari. Jason here.” He hunched up his shoulder and turned toward the wall, speaking softly and rapidly. Eileen leaned forward, straining to hear. “Well, yes. No, not exactly. Ummm…I don’t know. Eros, I think. I told you the label—” he broke off and held the phone away from his ear, wincing as a loud angry voice spilled out of the phone. “Calm down, will you?” 121

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More infuriated sounds followed. “Ari, please,” Jason pleaded. “Just listen. I need help.” Apparently the person on the other end was of the opinion that he needed more than help. The voice elaborated on what was needed, profanely and at some length. Jason broke in on the tirade. “Can you come here? You know I can’t do this a—” A final burst of curses echoed through the speaker, and then there was silence. The person on the other end of the phone call must have hung up. Jason sighed deeply. “What now?” Eileen asked. “Now we wait.” Alex fidgeted. How long would it take for the inventor of the potion to get here? What would they have to do, to be free of this spell, or drug, or whatever it was? He looked around. Everyone was watching Jason. The silence lengthened. People began to shift restlessly. Alex narrowed his eyes. He had better get moving. BANG. A thunderclap of sound assaulted his ears, followed immediately by a roiling cloud of smelly yellow smoke. Shrieks and cries followed as people stumbled back away from the bomb. Or whatever it was. The smoke cleared, and standing on the Persian carpet in the reception area was a woman wearing nothing but a short white lab coat. Alex blinked. She was beautiful. Her elegant head was crowned with shiny black hair. Midnight tendrils waved around her face as if moved by some imperceptible wind, and the ends curled and swung as she shifted her slender bodyweight from one long leg to the other. Her eyes flashed black fire from her piquant, perfect oval face. She was clearly a scarlet woman. But in this case, the phrase was literally true. From her wide, elegant brow down the slim column of her throat, her supple skin was a bright and unnatural red. What cleavage could be seen disappearing into the open V of the little white lab coat was equally red. So were her long slender legs, from taut thighs down to dainty feet shod in black stiletto heels. Even her tail, a lashing, snake-like appendage that ended in an arrowhead, was red. Tail? Alex’s head swam. “She has a tail.” Jason replied, “Right you are. But do try not to sound so horrified—it’s rather a handsome tail, don’t you think? Ari’s quite proud of it. And you really don’t want to annoy her—at least, not any more than she already is.” Alex stared blankly at Jason. “Good man.” He clapped Alex on the shoulder and addressed the demoness in the lab coat. “Arimazel, please allow me to present Mr. Alex Poindextre, of Sangazure and Poindextre. Our client.”

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“Well.” Arimazel folded her arms under her breasts, making the lab coat hike up even higher on her thighs. She looked Alex up and down. “Well, well, well. Perhaps I’m just a teensy bit less angry with you, Jason.” Eileen flung herself between Alex and the demoness. “Wait just a minute here. This man is my fiancé.” “Really. Would you like to give me a testimonial?” purred Arimazel. “What?” Eileen swiveled to face Jason. She grabbed him by his shirt front. “So help me, Jason, you had better explain right now, or I won’t be responsible for the consequences.” The demoness answered first. “If he’s the client, girlie, then he’s the one responsible for the consequences.” Alex gulped. He was responsible. He looked around at the mismatched couples gathered in the reception area. He had done this—he had brought them all to this. Instead of letting everyone make up their own minds, he had given them a potion without their knowledge and caused the chaos before them. “Eileen, for god’s sake let me handle it,” said Alex. He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I know you don’t trust me, I know you think I’ve really screwed up here. But this is my shit to deal with.” Eileen blinked her eyes very fast and bit her lip. Alex turned to face Jason and said coldly, “So this is something else you neglected to point out to me—the downside risk.” Jason looked pale. “Really, Alex, there was no way to anticipate—” Arimazel shook her head, and the filmy black tendrils of her hair lashed around her head. “Do you mean to say that you didn’t provide full disclosure? To a bunch of lawyers?” Her laughter was low, chilling. “You are so screwed, Jason.” “Perhaps you’d be so good as to enlighten us, madam,” Duke Poindextre suggested. Ari smiled at him, revealing a full set of pearly white, pointed teeth. “The spell is binding in all eternity, unless the counter-measure is provided by the original client. And that would be him.” She pointed at Alex. “What counter-measure?” he asked. Ari tapped one black-polished fingernail to her plump red lips. “Basically, to lift the spell, you come with me.” Banished to hell. Alex swallowed hard. Duke cleared his throat. “Is any substitution allowed?” “Don’t even think about it, Duke,” growled Ann Sangazure. She clutched Duke’s forearm as if to hold him back. Duke looked puzzled.” Why the hell not?”

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“Because I said so, that’s why,” she muttered, and dropped his arm. Arimazel grinned at him, exposing her pointed teeth in a disturbing way. “To answer your question, yes. I will accept a substitute.” Eileen stepped forward. “I’ll go.” Shock coursed through Alex, robbed him of the breath he needed to speak. With an effort he managed to get out one word. “No.” She lifted one hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I wasn’t all that happy being a lawyer anyway. And after this, well, things will never be the same. All the same, it would have been nice to be a baker.” Arimazel looked at Eileen with interest. “We could work something out. What would you say to being the world’s best baker? Magazine covers, celebrity status, the whole nine yards. Everything you make would turn out perfect, your clients would love whatever you wanted to make for them, you’d be the hottest ticket ever. And you’d have more money than you’d know what to do with. You could have the perfect lifestyle. The world would be your oyster.” Eileen’s eyes had widened, and her lips parted with something that looked like desire. Before Alex could say anything, a commotion at the back of the gathered crowd drew everyone’s attention. A man pushed his way forward, his arms flailing as he fended off a woman in hot pursuit. It was Pender. His hair was mussed and his tie askew, his shirt hanging out over his gray flannel trousers. Clinging to him was Judge Jeffries. Her dark eyes were sparkling and her hands were twined in Pender’s expensively styled hair. Her elegant business suit was rumpled. Pender’s efforts to fend her off were ineffective. Her nimble fingers dipped inside Pender’s open shirt, and the litigator yelped. He managed to pull her hands off him but couldn’t escape as she nibbled her way down his neck. “That’s enough darling,” Pender pleaded. “Look, don’t you think—” “Pender, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Duke demanded. “That’s— that’s—” Pender bared his teeth at Duke in a grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile. “Yes, I know. Look, Benita, say hello to Duke Poindextre. You remember Duke.” “Your Honor,” Duke said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. The judge ignored him. “Pender, what are we doing out here? Let’s go—” “Not so fast.” Duke detached her from Pender’s neck. Alex looked from the distracted judge to the litigator. “Pender, did you have any coffee?” “Who are you, the hospitality police? My secretary sent in a carafe for our afternoon meeting. So what?” Pender glared at Alex, and then looked beyond him. His eyes popped. “Who is that?” 124

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Alex turned in time to see Arimazel in the middle of a healthy yawn and stretch. Her white lab coat rose to new and interesting heights. “Never mind her,” Alex said hastily, but it was too late. The demoness dropped her shapely red arms and smiled at the litigator. “Well, hello there.” “Damn,” breathed Pender. “You are hot.” “Right both times.” Arimazel batted her eyelashes. “Damned and hot.” Eileen grabbed Pender by the shoulders and glared into his eyes. “Wait a minute. If you both drank the coffee, why aren’t you totally into Judge Jeffries right now?” The litigator blinked at Eileen as if he’d just noticed she was there. “I never drink coffee in the afternoon.” His rapt gaze went back to Arimazel. The demoness smirked at Eileen. “He’s not under the spell. I can tell.” Jason clapped his hands. “Perfect. Let him be the—that is, if this gentleman will agree to go with Ari, the spell can be lifted.” Alex stepped forward. He had to stop this. “No. He doesn’t want to do that,” Alex said. Rapidly, he explained to Pender and the judge what the situation was. The judge frowned as if she was having trouble concentrating. Finally, her dark eyes flashed fire as she glared at Alex. “Do you mean to tell me that this is all your fault?” she demanded. “God, I thought I was going crazy. I hate this arrogant son of a bitch. You people are going to be in a world of hurt for this.” “It was a mistake,” explained Alex earnestly. “Believe me.” The judge pointed one manicured finger at him. “You menace. You-you unbridled, conscienceless do-gooder. You have no business being a lawyer in the first place.” Alex hung his head. Pender’s reaction was completely different. “I get to go with her?” He watched Arimazel with hungry eyes. The litigator moved toward Arimazel as if pulled by a magnet. She smiled at him, baring those ferocious-looking teeth. “This is it,” Arimazel said. “You sure you want to do this?” “If I come with you, can we…” Pender whispered into her ear. She laughed. “Oh, baby, that’s our favorite trick.” She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I think you’re going to fit right in.” Pender gave her a devilish smile. Alex knew the charade had gone on long enough. “There’s no need,” Alex said. “It’s my duty. I am sorry. This is all my fault—I thought I had a great idea, I thought I’d figured out how to make everyone’s lives better. It was going to be so easy. I wouldn’t have to lecture you, or convince you to change when you couldn’t see the need for it. After all, everyone is used to the status 125

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quo, right? And change is hard and painful. Better the devil you know, right? So why bother struggling to change for the better when you’d learned to tolerate the way things were? “But I thought I could show you a better way, without arguing and prodding. You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger, but your lives would be transformed. All I’d have to do is make sure that everyone drank a little of the coffee at the engagement party. “If the potion had worked as it was supposed to work, people would have treated their coworkers with the respect that they all deserve. We would have been able to work together harmoniously, without anyone looking down at people for any reason. This would be a great place to work. Imagine that, a law office where people loved to come to work! “But I made a mistake. I underestimated you. I didn’t trust you, my coworkers, to share my vision. I didn’t share my thoughts with you. I didn’t let you decide for yourselves what your lives should be like. And that was a violation of everything I was hoping to accomplish—I disrespected you. “I disrespected Eileen too. I didn’t listen to her warnings and her concerns. I thought I knew best. Then when she became a victim of the potion’s power, I blamed her. But it was my own fault. “Everything that has happened has been my fault. I am deeply and sincerely sorry for what I did. Now it’s up to you to decide what you want to do. Whatever punishment you choose, I will humbly accept.” Arimazel yawned. “Make it snappy, folks. I haven’t got all eternity to hang out here.” Alex bowed his head. He hoped Eileen would interrupt, say no, say she couldn’t live without him. But she didn’t say anything—in fact, she wasn’t even there. She had left. He deserved it. The silence stretched out. Finally, Alex felt something being poked into his hand. He felt his fingers close around crisp, cool paper. It was a fat envelope. On the outside it read “Complaint.” “Universal complaint,” Eileen whispered. “Zoe just typed it up. Serve it.” His heart leaped. A universal complaint was general enough to cover any possible wrong a plaintiff might want to sue a defendant for. Brandishing the document, he stepped toward Jason Wellington Wells. “Jason, as a representative of JWW enterprises, you must accept this notice of our intentions to sue you and your company—” The demoness hissed, and her snaky black hair whipped furiously around her head. “A lawsuit? No! You’ll never get jurisdiction.” “Guess again, babe.” Alex scribbled Arimazel’s name on the front next to Jason’s, just in case. “We’re suing you for breach of the implied warranty of fitness for a particular purpose. Jason, as the representative of JWW Enterprises, guaranteed the

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potion would make people tolerant and open-minded. He said it would remove prejudices. His product failed in its intended use—we’ve got a classic case of products liability against him.” Alex held out the document. “Yeah, but where are you going to get a litigator?” Arimazel sneered. She turned to Justin Pender, who was gazing at her in awe. She batted her eyelashes. “Coming, babe?” “Oh, yeah,” Pender responded. Before anyone could say another word, a sudden, inexplicable gust of wind rushed through the reception area, ruffling hair and whipping loose clothing against the wearer’s bodies. Tension tingled in the air, as if lightning were about to strike. Impossible, misty colors swirled around the litigator and Arimazel, spinning faster and faster. Ari’s husky voice came out of the eerie storm. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Then, with a thunderclap, the storm vanished as if it had never been. People blinked and stood looking at each other as if they had just awakened from a very strange dream. The lights flickered and then went back to their normal steady glow. Feet shuffled, throats cleared. People began to turn away. Alex’s breath caught. He had to do something. It was now or never. He had to do something to make things right, or he would never be able to face these people again. He’d planned to make everyone’s life better, more just, more happy—instead, he’d created unspeakable chaos and possibly ruined the lives of the people closest to him. He’d ruined his own life—that didn’t matter, that was only what he deserved for being such a fool. But he’d ruined Eileen’s life too, driving her into the arms of Roger Daly. And all the rest of them—Zoe, Connie, Roger, Duke, Ann, Kevin—and all the other people who had trusted him. He had to make amends. Alex bowed his head. It was all over. Eileen hated him now. He would never make partner—not here or anywhere. No one would ever work with him again. His friends would desert him, his uncle would disown him. He couldn’t even imagine what he would do next. Maybe he would have to move to a deserted island, a hopeless, solitary bum with nothing to do and nothing to live for. But it was no more than he deserved. There was a long pause. Finally, Judge Jeffries spoke. “Never, in all my life, have I ever been subjected to such treatment.” Her voice quivered with rage. “I was— Well. I’m not going to go into it, but I can only say that this is not something that I will forgive easily. What you have done is criminal, and I intend to see you prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” Eileen stepped between Alex and the infuriated judge. She drew herself up to her full height. “Your honor, you have every right to be furious with Alex. And you’re not 127

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alone here. This has been a horrible, humiliating mess for all of us. Look around. We’ve all been affected by this-this well-meant but seriously misguided effort.” Alex squeezed his eyes shut. Eileen had every right to hate him. He wondered what hermits ate on deserted islands. Coconut husks, probably. Bugs and worms. “But he didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Eileen continued. “And while you’re perfectly within your rights to take legal action against him, I must assure you that Alex certainly did not intend you to end up, um, involved with Justin.” A tiny ray of hope broke through Alex’s gloom. Maybe Eileen didn’t hate him after all. She probably didn’t want to marry him anymore, but she wouldn’t defend someone she hated. Would she? He lifted his eyes. Judge Jeffries stood glaring at him, still angry but looking a little less sure of herself. “Maybe he didn’t do it deliberately, but he did it negligently and recklessly,” the judge argued. “He should have known better than to use spells and potions.” Alex’s hopes sank. He would probably wind up in prison. A new voice broke into the discussion. Connie Gentry asked, “You mean you want to sue Alex? That’s probably not such a good idea, is it? I mean, I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to have to declare in court that someone put a spell on me and forced me have sex with Justin Pender. Who would believe a story like that? I’d never be able to live it down.” Judge Jeffries blinked. “But it was—” “And we know that Alex didn’t know it was a love potion. That other guy lied to him.” “Jason!’ Eileen exclaimed. “Where is he?” “You mean this guy?” A burly custodian lifted a squirming, struggling Jason. The sorcerer looked around at the sea of accusing eyes, and went limp. He smiled weakly. “Ah. Hello, all.” “There you are,” Eileen exclaimed. She turned to Judge Jeffries. “It was his fault. He provided the potion.” The judge stared coldly at Jason, as if weighing the choice between thumbscrews or the rack. Zoe stepped forward and added, “So you see, it wasn’t really Alex’s fault. And Pender didn’t even know there was anything in the coffee, so even though he’s an asshole, he didn’t do it on purpose either. Besides, he’s not here anymore.” Eileen stepped between the eager assistant and the judge, effectively bringing all attention back to her. “And none of us knows exactly where Pender has gone. You can’t sue someone if you can’t get jurisdiction over them.” Judge Jeffries snarled. “I hope you’re not trying to convince me that he’s unreachable by the court system because he— Because he…”

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“You mean, because he eloped with a demon chemist wearing stiletto heels and no knickers under her lab coat?” Jason supplied helpfully. “It’s quite true, but believing it would be somewhat taxing to the ordinary legal imagination.” The judge focused on Jason. “You,” she growled in a low, dangerous voice. Jason blinked. “How awkward. What is one supposed to say in answer to that? I mean, yes, it is me, but I don’t quite…” She cut him off with a sharp gesture. “All this is your fault. You provided the wrong potion, you lied to young Poindextre, and you knew about it all along.” “Terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” Jason offered. He looked around the group, as if searching for a sympathetic expression. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Ari? You came back!” Every head turned in surprise, looking in the direction of Jason’s gaze. The burly janitor’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement and his grip on the sorcerer loosened for a moment. In an instant, Jason had wriggled free and bolted for the bank of elevators. The mechanical doors slid open as if on cue, and before anyone had a chance to stop them they closed behind him with a thunk. Judge Jeffries pounded on the elevator control panel. “Damn it! You let him get away!” She spun around and charged out the plate-glass doors into the lobby. Alex looked around, wondering if having Judge Jeffries and Jason finally gone meant the spell had really been lifted, or whether it was just a natural reaction to the weirdness of it all. The assembled workers all looked around at one another, sheepish and selfconscious as if a particularly wild office party had suddenly ended leaving them sober and facing one another with confetti still sprinkled in their hair. The hallway looked normal. The office air conditioning unit hummed placidly. Ann combed her fingers through her hair. “Guess it’s time to call it a night.” The gathered employees gave a collective sigh and began to mill around, preparing to leave for the night. “Glad that’s over,” someone muttered. A chorus of assent sounded as the rest of the office workers shuffled their feet and stared off into the distance. “Gotta get home,” someone else said and began to drift away. Duke stepped forward, taking charge once again. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have had an adventure, but it’s over now. Monday morning we return to business as usual.” He looked over his shoulder. “Alex, I’m going to want to see you in my office.” “Yes, Uncle,” Alex said in a subdued voice. Whatever his fate was going to be, it wouldn’t include a partnership at Sangazure and Poindextre. But he didn’t know what

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they would want to do. The final word belonged to Duke and Ann. It would almost be a relief to know the worst. Zoe watched as Judge Jeffries pursued the salesman out the door. Beside her, Kevin shifted nervously from foot to foot. Around the lobby, everyone seemed to think the spell was off. They were bustling around, acting normal. She frowned a little, trying to figure out how she felt. She didn’t feel any different— she had expected something, like maybe her eyes would suddenly clear and everything would look different, or she would go limp like a marionette with the strings cut, or like maybe some musical trill of unearthly chimes would indicate that they had all passed from la-la land back into the normal world of…whatever normal was. Like maybe this thing with Kevin would disappear, dry up and fly away, and she would be left with—what? Could a person say that sorcery-induced sex didn’t count, and just forget it had ever happened? Did she even want to say that? She eyed Kevin nervously. He folded his arms and gave her a challenging look. “So?” Damn, he could be annoying. “So what?” “You know what,” he growled. He did that looming thing again, placing himself so close that she wanted to back up. “Where do we go from here?” Suddenly, she felt stifled. She turned on her heel. “I’ll get back to you on that.” “Oh, no you don’t.” A large hand wrapped around her upper arm and he pulled her back to him. “Let’s see if everything about that spell has been erased.” He captured her face in his two hands and tilted her mouth up to his. Then he kissed her, hard, thoroughly, a kiss as though he were branding her, marking her as his. Lightning shot upward from the base of her spine, trailing electric sparks from her core to her nipples. It certainly didn’t seem as if anything had changed. He still made her weak with desire. “How was that?” he said huskily. It was better than good. In fact, it was all she could do to keep her clothes on—he made her want to rip everything off and go for him, right there, right now. But she wasn’t going to let him get a swelled head about it. “Adequate,” she replied. She even managed a sneer. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, pressing his enormous erection against her belly. “Then I’ll just have to try harder.” This time she melted into him, enjoying the warmth that circled up inside her along with a bubbling, sparkling, desire to laugh. The hell with the spell. She didn’t need it. They didn’t need it. She gave him a slow, seductive smile. “Got a cable with your name on it, Malcolm.”

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“Keep it,” he said. “I’m not going to be the tech guy around here anymore.” He let her go and started walking down the hall. She sprinted after him and blocked his way. “Just what the hell does that mean, you bastard?” He folded his arms over his chest and studied her. “Means I turned in my resignation as IT coordinator for Sangazure and Poindextre, effective today.” “Why?” That happy, sparkling feeling winked out, and a cold emptiness flooded into her heart. “Gonna miss me?” Tears sparked in her eyes, which just made her angrier. “No. I hate you.” She spun around to storm off, but he caught her arm. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry, Zoe. Look, I’m leaving because I’m going to start my own company. I’ve been working on this video game idea I had, and now that it’s finished I can’t keep up with the demand. It’s been really popular. In fact, it’s done so well that I am going to work on another one. I haven’t got the time for this tech support gig anymore. From now on I’m going to concentrate on game designing full-time. Sky’s the limit, babe.” It took her a moment to understand what he was saying. His own company. He was doing so well… Her jaw was sagging open, and she shut it with a snap. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Didn’t want to say anything until it was a go,” he mumbled. “It’s a big change for me. Gonna have to wear a suit, talk to people about venture capital, all that stuff.” “I’ve never seen you in a suit.” she said. She looked him up and down. Kevin would look so hot in a suit. “Hate ’em. They’re too uncomfortable. Never fit right.” His hand went up to the collar of his polo shirt, tugged as if the soft knit cotton were bothering him. “Well, you have to get them tailored,” she explained, pulling his hand away from the inoffensive collar he was mangling and smoothing it out again. He grabbed her gently by her upper arms. “Listen, would you help me? With that tailoring stuff and all the rest of it. Help me run the company.” She looked deep into his dark brown eyes. There was excitement there, and a plea. She remembered their tryst in the computer room, and her heart beat fast. “You want a partner?” she asked softly. “I want you to be my partner,” he answered. His steady gaze held so much promise. “In more ways than one.” “Come on,” she ordered and turned on her heel. “What? Where are you going?” She stopped and gave him a smile that came right from her heart. “I’ve got a letter of resignation to write. Partner.”

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Eileen followed as Duke hauled Alex down the hall to the big corner office. To Eileen’s surprise, Roger and her mother followed too. It was like a little parade. They all trooped in, and Duke started in on Alex before the door was even shut. “You young idiot! What the hell did you think you were doing?” Alex turned red. “Sir, I had no idea they would misrepresent the nature and effects of their product! The firm has been around for centuries. They’ve even got a patent from the queen.” “Which queen?” growled Ann, pacing back and forth in front of the big windows. “Well, I-I don’t exactly know,” Alex mumbled. Then he brightened up. “But it would have to be one of them, wouldn’t it, or they wouldn’t have it on all their sales materials.” “But what the hell were you thinking, putting that stuff in the coffee at your own damn engagement party?” Duke demanded. He was pacing in front of his desk, his path at right angles with Ann’s. “Everyone in the whole damn firm got a dose, and look at the results.” “I guess I really messed up,” Alex said. Standing against the wall with his arms crossed, Roger nodded emphatically. No one but Eileen noticed, and his movement registered only faintly with her. She was too concerned about Duke and Ann crashing into each other. “Exactly. You should have let Ann and me know before pulling a damn-fool stunt like that.” “You’re right, Uncle. I’m sorry.” Ann added, “Then we would have known not to drink the damn coffee.” Eileen frowned. “But the problem was that every—” Four pairs of eyes turned to glare at her. Duke and Ann collided with a pair of grunts. Stifling a laugh, Eileen changed what she was going to say. “What are you going to do to Alex?” Duke looked uncertain. “Well, I’m not sure he can stay on at the firm.” “Certainly not,” huffed Ann. She hunched one shoulder. “Sorry.” Alex stood in the center of the room, chin up, legs spread, suit coat open and tucked behind his fists, which rested on his hips—his battle stance. Eileen’s eyes pricked with tears. Suddenly, now that she was going to lose him, every familiar gesture of Alex’s filled her heart with longing. “I agree. In fact, I am tendering my resignation immediately.” Alex looked so noble and so contrite. “I know it doesn’t matter, but I never meant this to happen. If things had worked out the way I’d planned it, Sangazure and Poindextre would have been the best law firm in the city—the best lawyers, best place to work, best in every way.” “But it didn’t,” Duke pointed out. Alex shook his head. Regret filled every line of his proud body.

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Eileen burst out, “And he would never do anything like that again.” Alex looked at her. “No. I never will.” He gathered his energy. “I’m sorry, Eileen. And you’re free of me now. And Duke and Ann. I’m leaving the firm.” Ann nodded. “Glad you’re doing the right thing, kid.” Duke nodded too. Then Alex looked at her, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Eileen’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away. She heard Alex’s footsteps fading down the hall. Mumbling something that sounded like an excuse, she bolted out of Duke’s office. She needed privacy, she needed comfort. She needed chocolate. Connie watched Alex leave Duke’s office, his head held high. Eileen rushed out moments later. Once it looked as if nobody else was coming out, Connie knocked on the open door, just to gain the attention of the three people inside. Ann Sangazure argued with Duke— nothing new there—and Roger was watching them. This was not going to be easy. Connie drew in a deep breath. “Uh, excuse me. Can I have a moment?” Ann Sangazure swung around. “So here’s your little bride. Guess you’re happy to see her. Another dumb-bunny, passive female to perpetuate the species.” She glared at Connie. “Well, good luck, honey. You’ll need it.” Duke yelled, “Oh, yeah, as if you didn’t crow about screwing the brains out of that boy toy of yours. That little bastard! I waited thirty years for you to get over that bug up your ass about female equality, and then first chance you get you hop on top of some sleazy jerk like that. I was a fool.” Connie lifted her chin. “Just a minute, please, both of you.” To her surprise, they both stopped yelling and stared at her. It took her a moment to recover. “Look, I know everything’s weird, but— Duke, I just came to say that you don’t have to marry me, okay? I mean, it’s all right. I’d rather let things just get back to normal, you know? You’re okay with that, aren’t you?” She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She knew she’d sounded stupid and as if she couldn’t even string two words together, but she had pretty much run out of courage and things to say about the same time. Still, she had to say it. Duke looked as though he’d been punched in the gut. She felt really guilty about that, because he was a nice guy even if he did correct her grammar all the time. But it wouldn’t have worked between them. She looked pleadingly at him, hoping he would understand.

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Roger stepped in to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Connie’s right. What happened wasn’t any of our fault. But now we have to fix the mistakes that were made. Let her go, Duke.” Duke’s face showed the struggle he was going through. He was hesitating. Connie laid her hand on his arm. “Duke, please. Can’t we just go back to the way things were before?” He patted her hand. “Very well, my dear. It shall be as you wish. I know I’m too old for you—” “It’s not about age, really. You’re still a great guy,” Connie added as she backed away. “But not the right guy for me, you know?” She looked at Ann, who was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning. Ann gave her a grudging nod. “Well done, Connie. I’m glad to see you displaying a properly formed backbone. Now you just run along.” She left. Roger followed her out the door. Now came the hard part—saying goodbye to Roger. When they reached the lobby, she laced her fingers together as she gathered her courage. “Whew, I’m glad that’s over.” Her smile trembled on her lips. It hurt, but at least she would be the first to say goodbye. The lobby was quickly emptying of people. Roger knew that if he was going to take risks, launch out, and go for what he wanted instead of letting the opportunities pass him by, he had to act now. He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s that, then.” Connie nodded, her eyes on the floor. Roger panicked. Maybe she was just glad to untangle herself from one old guy. No reason for her to want to get involved with another old guy. He felt every day of their fifteen-year age difference. Risks. Going for it. “Connie.” He cleared his throat again. “Um, would you like to come out to dinner with me? I think we’ve got some things to talk over.” She worked her fingers together, and then apart. “You don’t have to do that.” “No, I’d really like to.” He was feeling reckless now. He knew she would say no. Nothing he could do could make the situation worse. Why not go for it? Then she looked at him, so sadly and with a little rueful smile. “I’m really not the kind of girl you probably think I am. I mean, I understand why you’d think that, but…” He drew in a breath. “I think you’re an old-fashioned kind of girl. The kind of girl who wants a guy to treat her like the lady she is. Who has more common sense in her little finger than a lot of other people have in their whole bodies. And who cares about things that are worth caring about.” He reached out and took her hand. “And that’s the kind of girl that I’d like to get to know.” She looked wonderingly at him. “I thought you didn’t want to go out with me because I’m just a secretary.” 134

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“No.” Roger exhaled a little laugh. “No, not at all. It wasn’t you. It was me.” “You? Why, what’s wrong with you?” Horror filled her eyes. “Oh my god—are you married?” “No! No, I’m not, it’s not that.” “Are you gay? ‘Cause I didn’t think you were—” She blushed harder. His face was flaming. “God, no!” “What, then?” It was the moment of truth. He cleared his throat. He looked around, making sure the hallway was empty. “I’m a virgin. Well, technically speaking, perhaps that’s no longer true, but in most respects I still am, although—” He knew he was dithering. “Roger.” Her voice was soft. “Well. You would have thought I was weird.” His gaze was locked on her face, searching for any change of expression. Now he would see it—he waited for that incredulous, scornful look, the roll of the eyes that would brand him a LOSER in capital letters, not worth the time of a woman as beautiful, sensual, and warm as she. It didn’t come. Connie stared. “I can’t believe it. With all the girls who must have been after you all these years—” He shrugged helplessly. “And after you and Eileen—” He shrugged. “Yeah, well. Sometimes things just get out of control. But that wasn’t really me. I still have a lot to learn.” She took him by the arm. “Don’t worry about it. We can fix that.” “We can? I mean, sure. We can.” She laid her head on his arm. “Where did you say you were taking me for dinner?” Heart singing, Roger led Connie back toward his office. Duke watched Connie and Roger leave his office. Great. Fine. First Alex and Eileen, now these two. Fewer pains in the ass to deal with. And considering the way this day had gone, that still left several very large pains to deal with. The biggest pain of all walked out of his office next—Ann, his two-timing, salesman-screwing partner. Without a word of explanation, without a single apology. She was walking down the hallway when he grabbed her by the arm. “Not so fast.”He pulled her into the nearest office and shut the door behind them. It was time—way past time—the two of them had a talk. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.

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It was Ann’s office, but it looked different somehow. Books lay scattered on the floor and two framed diplomas hung crookedly on the wall. “What’s all this?’ He gestured at the mess. Ann shrugged, looking shamefaced. Duke thought about it. Ann made a fetish of neatness. A place for everything, and everything in its place, was her motto. If someone had made a mess of her tidy office, she would have been furious. But she was not angry, she was…embarrassed. Had she done this herself? If she had, it could only have been while in the grip of a strong emotion. Fury. Or passion. That was it—she must have had that pipsqueak Jason in here. Duke saw red. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You fucked that boy toy right here in your office,” he roared. “What did you do, bounce him off the walls?” Ann’s eyes flashed. “What difference does it make? You were so busy walking around on your knees, chasing after that chickie of yours.” Her words struck him like a pail of cold water in the face. “You saw that?” “Yes, I saw that. When I think of how long I’ve waited for you to come around…” She choked. “How dare you?” “Me? All these years, you were the one who hasn’t wanted to—” “You’re the one who wouldn’t mess with success.” She moved toward him. “You never gave me any indication—” He took a step forward, bringing them nose to nose. “How could I? You made it clear—” “Oh, the hell with it,” Ann shrieked. She grabbed Duke by the shirt and hauled his face down to hers. They came together with more force than necessary, her teeth bumping hard against his lip. But then her arms snaked around his shoulders and pulled him close, her mouth pressing eagerly against his. Desire roared through him, triumphant. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss, exploring her mouth, so familiar and yet so new, plunging in to possess her. God, she was so yielding! This was a new, secret Ann, a willing, bendable Ann. His cock was hard as a rock, already digging into her willing softness. He moved his hands down to cup her ass, then pressed her tighter against his raging tool. She pressed herself closer, and he wanted to throw his head back and laugh. She was his. He had won. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Not so bad, eh?” His voice sounded a little hoarse. “Not enough,” she growled, and pulled at his shirt impatiently. He smiled. Looked as if she still had a lot to learn about who was in control around here.

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He clamped her to his body with one arm, and with the other swept all the desk accessories onto the floor. Dragging her neat skirt up to her hips, he backed her up until she was resting against the desk’s edge. “Not here, not here, on the couch, damn it,” Ann said, trying to push him away. “Like hell. We’re doing this my way.” He twisted a handful of her panties in his hand, but the sturdy cotton refused to tear. Impatiently, he pulled them down until they were dangling off one ankle. Then he pushed both knees up toward her shoulders and spread her legs wide. “And we’re changing the firm’s name. It’s going to be Poindextre and Sangazure.” Her pussy was covered with a triangle of thick dark curls, the slit a widening line of pink. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so enticing. He could hardly take his eyes from those pouting lips. The blood was rushing in his veins, and he couldn’t hear anything else. Ann’s hand fluttered over her moist slit in an attempt to cover herself. “What? No way.” “Yes way.” He brushed the hand away, then laid his palms gently on her parted and raised knees, holding her in place. After waiting for damn near thirty years, he was going to look his fill. Ann began to squirm. “No! We’ve got name recognition, we’re a brand. We can’t change that.” He leaned down and tasted her briefly. Salty, different, but not bad. He slid his tongue in between the soft pink folds for a longer exploration. Ann gave a little jump and shivered. He liked that reaction. “We can change anything we want. They’ll get used to it.” He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “So, what’s it going to be?” “I want—” He leaned forward and licked her wet pussy. Her legs parted wider on their own, and she gasped. He dug his fingers into her round ass, holding her still. This time there would be no doubt who was running the show around here. “You want to change the name of the firm to Poindextre and Sangazure? The name change comes with considerable benefits.” To demonstrate, he ran his tongue around her tiny, erect clit. Her body began to shiver. He rose and plunged his rock-hard cock deep in her quivering core. Together they soared, found the peak, and flung themselves over into bliss. After a moment, Duke propped himself on one elbow, looking down at Ann’s halflowered eyelids and parted lips. “I’ll think about it,” she said. Ann was his. There was no sweeter triumph.

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Chapter Thirteen Eileen looked up at a knock on her office door. It was Roger Daly. She sat back, grateful to have been interrupted in her dismal, wretched and guilty musings. She managed a smile. “Hello, Roger.” His wholesome, perpetually cheerful face shone. “I just wanted you to meet someone.” He pulled Connie Gentry into the office after him. “Meet the future Mrs. Daly.” “Uh, congratulations.” Roger gave his bride a hug, and she giggled. “I figure we’d better act fast, before someone slips us another Mickey.” Eileen winced. He added, “Thank goodness things happened the way they did, though. We might never have gotten together.” Connie smiled. “Well, we just wanted to stop by and let you know. Hope you and Alex are gonna be happy together.” “Of course we are. Thanks,” Eileen lied. The two of them left, gazing into each other’s eyes. Another knock came on her door. Eileen sighed. Zoe came in followed by Kevin, the tech support guy. “We just wanted to let you know that we are both leaving the firm, to start our own company,” Zoe said. “Kevin’s going to design computer games, and I’ll take care of the business side.” Eileen looked from one glowing face to the other. “We’ll miss you both,” she said truthfully. “Oh, you’ll be seeing us from time to time.” Zoe’s face broke into a big smile. “As clients.” Kevin grinned and put his arm around Zoe’s shoulder. “Yeah, it’s the only thing higher on the office totem pole than being a partner.” When they left, Eileen shook her head. What were the odds of two couples finding each other after that wild night? The third knock made her swear. Couldn’t anyone leave her alone? She looked up and saw her mother and Duke in her doorway. “All right, come in,” she grumbled. “It’s not like I’m getting any privacy anyhow.”

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Her mother stalked in and threw herself down in one of the client chairs. Duke leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Both were looking tense and a bit annoyed. Eileen sat up straighter in her chair. “What’s the matter?” Eileen asked. Her mother waved a negligent hand. “Nothing, nothing.” “It’s not nothing, Ann,” growled Duke. Ann looked ready to argue the point with him. “Is it about Alex?” Eileen cut in anxiously. She hoped they weren’t still angry at him. He really had meant it for the best. “No.” Duke was still leaning against the wall, staring at Ann. Eileen looked from one to the other. A wild idea came into her mind. “You two aren’t getting married, are you?” “Good lord, no,” Ann said. “Certainly not,” Duke echoed, looking shocked. Eileen smiled, relieved. “Well, after what I’ve seen today—” Duke went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Our individual financial positions are too strong. We’d both take a sizeable tax hit if we got married.” “So we’re just going to shack up together,” Ann finished. “What?” Eileen shrieked. “Told you she’d be excited,” Duke said to Ann. Eileen fell back in her chair with a moan, her hands covering her face. Ann frowned at her daughter. “What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you happy for us?” Eileen took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sure. Of course I’m very happy for you. Congratulations on your—your—new relationship.” “There, see?” Duke told Ann. “We just caught her off guard.” “It will be something of a change,” Ann continued. “The firm will be known as Sangazure and Poindextre.” “Poindextre and Sangazure,” corrected Duke, who appeared at the office door. “Whatever,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know how you get these concessions out of me, you old fox.” “It’s only fair,” Duke said. “Your name came first for twenty-five years. Now it’s my turn.” Ann’s eyes twinkled at her daughter. “A good relationship is all about making compromises.” The not-quite-couple left, arguing happily.

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Alex dragged the last box of his stuff down to his car. A bird sang, sounding unexpected in the concrete structure. Automatically, he looked around. The sky visible through the pilings was dark, but with the pearly glow that suggested that a new day was not too far away. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Eileen stepped out, carrying a huge briefcase. He swore under his breath. Their cars were side by side—there was no way he could avoid talking to her now. He was hoping he would get a little time before they had their showdown. But it was what it was. He drew in a deep breath and slapped a smile on his face. “So. You leaving too?” It was a stupid thing to say, but what the hell. Eileen looked cool and lovely, hair perfect, suit unwrinkled as though she’d never been mussed up in her life. A surge of lust caught him unexpectedly as he remembered their afternoon tryst at the hotel. Had that really been just this past afternoon? “It is almost four a.m.,” she replied. She looked him up and down, as if weighing him. Then she looked away. Annoyed by that dismissive glance, Alex smiled at her. “I guess Roger is going to be made partner at S&P, now. Good for him. Good for the firm. He’s a good man.” “I don’t know.” Eileen unlocked her car. “And it’s P&S now.” He huffed out a laugh. His uncle must have finally convinced Ann to make a change—perhaps to save face after tonight’s disaster, he thought gloomily. But that was a counterproductive thought, so he banished it. At least somebody was getting something good out of this mess. “You want to get some coffee?” he blurted out. Eileen’s shocked look made him realize what he’d said. “No. Scratch that. I didn’t mean—” She shook her head. “No place is open now.” “The hotel is.” He felt a little encouraged that she hadn’t said no right off the bat. “I just want to talk. Okay?” She rolled her eyes. “Okay.” She opened the trunk of her car and stowed the briefcase, which clanked. Then she crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him impatiently. He frowned at the briefcase, but decided that this wasn’t the time to ask. “Come on.” The small coffee shop at the hotel was not as elegant as the dining room, and too brightly lit to be conducive to apologies and farewells. Alex was almost sorry he’d suggested it. He sat facing Eileen, who was pulling apart a croissant in an investigative way. She shook her head. “I don’t think they make these here,” she said finally. “The crumb isn’t right. I can’t believe the chef—” 140

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“Eileen, I’m sorry.” She blinked in astonishment. He forged on. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. God! Now I wish I had—everything went wrong.” He buried his head in his hands. His blond curls shone like gold under the harsh overhead light of the diner. Her fingers twitched, drawn as if by magic to touch the crisp waves. It was so unfair, still wanting him even after all this. He was clueless, full of well-intentioned ideas and passion, and oblivious to the pitfalls around him. She sighed. “You’re really just not suited to working in a law firm. It’s so not you.” He looked up at her, his expression confused. “But the law is where the action is! Lawyers change the rules. They make things better—or at least right—for people.” “All I know is, you just don’t seem to fit in.” “Oh, and you do? Sorry I wasn’t born into it, like you.” Eileen rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t either! I finally realized that. I’m leaving the firm and going to start an apprenticeship to the baker at the French bakery downtown.” He gaped at her. “You’re quitting? Your mother must have gone ballistic.” “Well…” She shifted uncomfortably, remembering the scene in Ann’s office. “At least Uncle Duke was able to talk her around. I think she’ll be okay with it.” Eileen still hadn’t decided what was worse, her mother’s explosive reaction when she learned her daughter was giving up her law career, or the sight of Duke kissing her into submission. Alex was looking at her with new respect. At least, she thought it was respect. She felt a lot better since she had finally decided to follow her bliss. She felt so light, so free, so strong, as if she could take on the world. She smiled at her former fiancé. She could take him on, too. An answering smile dawned on his face. “You’re amazing.” His gaze searched her face as if seeking out the origin of her newfound resolve. All his attention was on her. Behind her, Eileen heard a quick, female footstep approaching. Then a young woman in a tailored gray business suit brushed by her, head down. Eileen glanced up briefly at her, long enough to notice that she was pretty and looked upset. Oh, no, not another female in distress. She turned back to Alex, worried that she would see that familiar look of distraction on his face. But he apparently hadn’t noticed the crying woman—his eyes were still on Eileen. He shook his head wonderingly. “You look like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. You look like you could take on the world. I never knew you were so unhappy at S&P.” “Well, I wasn’t really. At least, I didn’t think I was.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m so happy for you.” His expression sobered. “I’m sorry I messed things up so badly between us. I wish I’d been

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a part of the new joy you’ve found, and not the one who made you so happy by making you want to say goodbye.” He gave a rueful little laugh. Eileen felt as if she’d been doused with cold water. They were no longer engaged. They were no longer a couple. Alex blamed himself, and he was going to walk out of her life. No more crazy schemes to save the world, no more of his bright presence in her life, no more fun and laughter. Suddenly she couldn’t bear it. “Alex, I don’t—” She found herself stumbling over the words. What would her life be like now, at a bakery instead of a law firm? Would he want to be a part of it anyway? There was one way to find out. She drew in a breath, gathered her strength and held up a hotel room key. “It’s kind of late, and I’d like to relax a little. Would you like to come?” His lips—those gorgeous, firm, talented lips—parted in surprise. Then flexed into a familiar grin. “If you’ll have me.” They stood. She grabbed him by the tie, and said, “Oh, baby, am I going to have you.” Arms wrapped around each other, they marched to the hotel’s elevators. The elegant brass doors slid open, and then closed to enfold them in their own cozy, chocolate-walled room. Alex’s arms slid smoothly around her waist. She lifted her head to that familiar angle, his lips met hers with just the right amount of pressure and she melted all over again. His cheeks bore a little stubble now, reminding her that it had been a long day. A lot had happened since the last time they had rocked together in this small space, but the world was all right again. His hands deftly unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra. She arched her back as he lowered his head to her nipples. His delicate, feather-light licks and kisses brought them to hard peaks, just as they always did. His arms cradled her back, holding her up, letting her relax and enjoy the sensations he was generating in her. She stroked his blonde curls, looking down at the top of his head as his tongue teased the tip of one breast. The other breast was bare, its nipple hard and pointing toward the stylish pressed-tin ceiling of the elevator. She hoped they would reach their floor soon. She couldn’t wait much longer to get her hands on Alex’s beautiful body. The elevator doors finally slid open on their floor. Standing in the doorway were Roger and Connie. Roger’s eyes popped at the sight of Eileen’s exposed breast, and Connie jumped indignantly in front of him, as if to shield him from the sight of her. Another voice said from deeper in the hallway, “Way to go, Alex!” Surprised, Eileen shifted her gaze and saw Kevin Malcolm and Zoe Partlett. Zoe shot back, “You mean, come on, Eileen.” Kevin laughed and slung one arm around Zoe’s neck, pulling her close for a kiss. Eileen gently disentangled herself from Alex and pulled her blouse together.

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She smiled at them all. “Show’s over, folks. Hope to see you all around sometime— because it won’t be at the office.” Taking Alex’s hand, she led him triumphantly out of the elevator and down to the room. Inside, she flung her arms around him and kissed him hard, pushing him back toward the bed. He broke the kiss. “Darling, listen, I’ve just had the greatest idea!” They both fell onto the firm, cool mattress, Eileen on top. “It can wait.” She unbuttoned his shirt, and then began working at his belt buckle. “No, really,” he insisted. “I know what I really want to do. I want to make a difference—change people’s lives for the better. Well, that’s what I’ve always wanted. I’ve just been going about it the wrong way.” She nodded as she tugged down the zipper of his trousers. “You can say that again.” “Now I see what I’m really meant to do. The career where I can do the most good for the greatest number of people.” She smiled as she freed him from the confines of his underwear. “And what’s that?” she asked, as she lowered her mouth to kiss his upstanding penis. “I’m going into politics!” She froze. It seemed as if the earth had suddenly shifted on its axis. Slowly she lifted her head and stared at him, her mouth still shaped in a perfect O. “You what?” Alex’s blue eyes shone with their usual enthusiasm. “Just think of it! Instead of improving the lives of a handful of people in a law firm, I could make life better for hundreds of people—maybe thousands. There’s no limit to the good I could do!” Eileen sat back and lowered her head into her hands. “No. Oh, no!” “Darling?” Alex brought his face close to hers, peering anxiously between her fingers. “You are with me on this, aren’t you?” She lay back on the bed and started laughing uncontrollably.

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About the Author Rose Maybud is a retired lawyer who enjoys singing opera in the shower. She is a wholehearted fan of Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan, although she has never performed in any of their comic operas. She earned her Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do in 1994. Currently she resides in Central Ohio

Rose welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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