Faking It to Making It

She grinned around the pencil and began to swivel her chair     back and forth, her knees rubbing against his. Lucky he had a car coming for him     in five minutes. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to drive in his current state.

As he turned to leave she grabbed him by the sleeve of his     shirt, her hand curling around his wrist, sending shards of heat up his arm. To     think this hot little gamine creature was his. All his.

He already knew he was never letting her go again.

He’d tell her so later, when she was naked in his arms.     Trapped. She tended to be more amenable, less stubborn, after he’d loved her     into a pile of molten limbs.

“New gig’s just come in,” she said, pointing the pencil at her     flash new computer monitor.

Completely unable to help himself, he leaned over her, sucking     in lungs full of her soft morning scent as he looked at the screen. “What am I     looking at?”

“Pegasus Motors have taken us on to do a series of     infographics. For starters it seems I’m going to have to test-drive their entire range of sports models. You can come     along if you like.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved     you.”

“Just one.”

“Okay, two. Maybe three.”

One last kiss, he told himself as her hand snuck around his     neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

Three quarters of an hour later he zipped his pants and made a     run for the door, cold toast between his teeth, Saskia’s old copy of Catch-22 under his arm for the car ride, and ignoring     the constant buzzing of his phone.

He told himself Gabe would have to wait.

Hell, the whole world could wait for all he cared.

A man had to have his priorities straight, after all.