Double Standard

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…Brody’s prick was hard where it pressed against Johnny’s hip. …I force a tight smile. Of course he doesn’t mind—he wants me, I can feel his need radiating from every pore, and it frustrates the hell out of me that I can’t have him. I shouldn’t even flirt back but I can’t help it. I can’t meet his eyes so I look past him, out the window, and extract my hand from my pocket. It brushes over his, then I gently take his elbow. The mere touch, even through the shirt he wears, threatens to burn my skin. Still tucked away in its own pocket, my other hand pushes against the sudden erection that fills the front of my pants. “Come on. Mr. Morris wants an update.” Evan gathers the spreadsheets he’s been pouring over all day. My hand stays on his elbow, not so much to guide him anymore but to keep him in place. Beside me, where he belongs. But my hand falls away when he knocks his pen to the floor and bends over to retrieve it. Then I have to clench my fingers into a fist as I stare at him, ass in the air, every nerve in my body itching to reach out and trace the curved flesh hidden beneath his taut pants. That’s a deliberate move, I know it is. He wants me to touch him. I can almost feel his desire radiating from him, like the heat off a small sun. Because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to not touch him, I look away. “Evan,” I sigh, my voice low. We’re relatively alone at the moment—Amber in the restroom, Charity by the copier, the rest of the staff probably already in the boardroom. Kirk nowhere in sight. “I’m coming.” Still bent down, he flashes me a quick grin over his shoulder. At that smile, my breath catches in my throat. Me too. Damn…

ALSO BY J. M. SNYDER All Shook Up Beautiful Beautiful Disaster Beautiful Liar Beneath A Yankee Sky Between States The Bonds Of Love Bounty Of The Heart Carey’d Away Crushed An Evening With The Rush Hour Hero A Heart Divided Matching Tats A More Perfect Union On Company Time Outage Persistence Of Memory Playing The Field Series The Positions Of Love Series: Books I - XII The Powers Of Love Series The Regent’s Knight Seventh Inning Stretch Under A Confederate Moon V: The V In Valor Wanted With This Ring

DOUBLE STANDARD BY J. M. SNYDER

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

DOUBLE S TANDARD AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2009 by J. M. Snyder ISBN 978-1-60272-548-5 Cover Art © 2009 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

DOUBLE STANDARD

DOUBLE STANDARD “Evan, honey?” my secretary Amber Hilliard asks, her voice bright and cheery. “Do you have that ad report for me yet?” Through the open door to my office, I hear his quick reply. “Sure. Let me get it.” There’s the faint squeal of castors as he rolls his chair away from his desk, and I glance around my monitor in time to see him back into view. Suddenly the comparable sales spreadsheet I’m working on is forgotten—nothing exists for me but the young man out in the main office area, now digging through a file cabinet. Evan. Evan Hawthorne. He’s almost ten years my junior, fresh out of grad school, and one of the best salesmen I’ve ever hired. But to be honest, it wasn’t his resume that convinced me to take him on. With his soulful 1

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gray-green eyes, kinked strawberry curls, the smattering of freckles so dense he looks like he’s sporting a perpetual tan, and a firm body that just won’t quit…I’ll admit it, I hired him because he’s gorgeous. My mind was made up when he walked in my office three weeks ago for the interview. I wanted to see him every single day and there was no way he didn’t have the job. Problem is, there’s this sticky little paragraph in the employee handbook that keeps me from doing anything more than look. I’ve read it over and over again since he started working in my department, as if it’s going to rewrite itself without my knowledge. Every time he smiles my way, every time I stare at him from my desk like I’m doing now, every time he stares at me and doesn’t seem care if I notice or not, I have to come back into my office and read the paragraph again. The one that says managers and their immediate employees cannot fraternize. The one that says we can’t get together, even outside of work, just because I’m his boss. I know Evan’s read it, too, because Amber pointed it out to him once. “You can’t ask him,” she said as I walked by Evan’s desk, where she stood chatting when she should’ve been handing out paychecks. My steps faltered but I didn’t stop. I knew they were talking about me because Amber lowered her voice as I passed. “It’s in the handbook, Evan. You can’t fool around with management.” “You do,” Evan pointed out. Amber had no reply to that. By then my back was to them and I could smirk—Amber thinks she’s being slick, getting with my boss, Kirk Morris. But according to him, they’re in different departments so it’s no big deal. We’re sales, while Kirk is…well, he’s whatever he feels like he should be. His business cards say 2

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CEO of Online Bulk Sour Candy Corporation, which doesn’t just make him my boss but, in his twisted little mind, lord of all. Lick ’Em and Weep is his company. And it’s his stupid rule. I asked him about it right after I hired Evan but he just said, “It’s CYA, Jeff. Cover Your Ass. You can’t go hiring people just because you like the way they look—that’s discrimination. Equal Opportunity would be all over that shit.” “He’s more than qualified for the position,” I argued. “I just don’t see why I can’t get friendly with him outside the office…” “So fire him.” Like that’s a viable option. “Then hook up with him. Just not as long as you’re the one turning in his hours.” Most days, I can ignore the urges. I’m a grown man, and God gave me two hands. So I spend an unusual amount of time in the bathroom jerking off, so what? At least I’m not chasing tail like Kirk, calling Amber into his office to “take a memo” and releasing her, disheveled and giggly, a half hour later. But damn, on these long summer days when the clock has slowed and quitting time seems an eternity away, when the afternoon sun angles in through the windows behind my desk and makes me drowsy, when there’s nothing to do but sit with my chin in my hand and stare out into the salesroom, my mind wanders to Evan. He’s a head shorter than I am, and stockier, too. I like that in a man. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a tight waist, and when he bends over, his pants pull taut across round buttocks I want to sink my teeth into like twin melons. The report he’s looking for isn’t where he thought and, when he stands to search the drawer above, I envision sidling up behind him, my hands smoothing over his ass, around his hips, to find the buckle of his belt. I’d pull him back against me, my fingers working at his zipper, eager to delve into 3

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the heat at his crotch. I can imagine all too well the way he’d gasp, a throaty sound, and the feel of his own hands as they reached back to clench at my thighs, keeping me close… Suddenly someone steps into my doorway, blocking my view and interrupting my daydream. “Boardroom,” Kirk says, knocking on my open door to get my attention. My boss is around my age but sure doesn’t act it. His loosened tie hangs around his thick neck like a noose, and the light blue button-down shirt he wears is badly wrinkled, the collar unbuttoned, the top of a tan T-shirt visible at his neckline. It’s a Star Wars T-shirt—I know, because earlier I saw the shape of Darth Maul through the back of his work shirt. Who dressed him this morning? And what the hell does Amber see in him anyway? When I don’t jump at his command, he knocks a second time, as if I’m not aware he’s deliberately standing in my line of sight. “Hello, Wally? Sales meeting.” “Now?” I glance at the time on my monitor and sigh. It’s four o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. “Kirk, really…” With a knowing nod behind him at Evan’s desk, he asks, “What? You’re not doing anything productive. I need to see the data from last month.” “Yeah, right this minute.” I glare at him as I shuffle together the papers on my desk. “You can’t wait until the morning? We’ll be here all night.” He winks at me, a wicked grin on his face. “I won’t. I have plans with that hot dish you’ve got sitting right over there.” Out in the main office, I hear Amber giggle and I roll my eyes. Yeah, she’s got double D’s, long blonde hair, and legs that stretch for miles. But Kirk knows I’m not one for the ladies…and he’s just 4

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flirting with her in front of me because he can. Because I can’t flirt with Evan, and he’s rubbing it in. He raps on my door once more, as if that settles it. “Round up the usual suspects. You’ve got five minutes.” As he walks away, I hear him lower his voice to speak with Amber. “Hello, sugar.” Sometimes I think he just does this because it’s what he’s supposed to do—walk around the office and make sure everyone’s pretending to work, call meetings at the drop of a hat, and drive me crazy with wanting this report or that spreadsheet. It must be part of his job description somewhere, probably in the employee handbook and I just haven’t found it yet. Note: CEO must be able to make Director of Sales go off the deep end. Because that’s what he does, and he’s very, very good at it. For one thing, my name isn’t Wally. Most everyone calls me Jeff, even my own employees. I don’t insist on the mister crap like Kirk does. It’s Jeff, or hey man, or yo buddy. Not Mr. Wallace, and sure as hell not Wally. Everyone else seems to get that. Everyone but Kirk. For another thing, he knows my brain stopped working two hours ago. All I’ve been doing since I returned from lunch is surf the web and stare at Evan. Have I mentioned that he’s so unbelievably hot, I can’t even look straight at him when he’s facing me? Whenever he’s in my office, I have to shuffle the papers on my desk or look around the room or past his shoulder, anywhere but at those beautiful soft-doe eyes of his that seem to pin me in place. He likes me, I know he does—it’s in his slow smile, in the shy way he looks at me, in the fact he said something to Amber, even, who then had to point out that stupid “no fraternizing” rule. The one Kirk so blatantly ignores just because 5

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he owns the company. Talk about a double standard. He’s out to drive me insane, I just know it. *

*

*

Like now. Who calls a sales meeting this close to the weekend? Who else besides him cares? But he’s the boss, so I print out a copy of my latest report and hand the papers to Charity Blevins as I pass her desk. Before Evan, I didn’t have to worry about dating any of my employees—I hired pretty women specifically so I wouldn’t be tempted to ask them out. The only problem is the catty attitude that sometimes electrifies the air. Amber’s my secretary and supposed to help out all the sales staff if needed. But she won’t lift a finger to help Charity because she thinks anything she can do, the older saleswoman should be able to do just as well. Unfortunately, Charity thinks anything that remotely resembles office work is beneath her. When I set the papers down on Charity’s keyboard, she flicks them aside. Through her thick wire-frame glasses, she gives me a glare that tells me where she thinks I can put those papers, if I’m interested. I’m not. “I need five copies,” I tell her. “Bring them to the boardroom. We’re going over the sales.” “I’m not your secretary,” she reminds me, frowning. With both hands, she smoothes back the unruly mop of brown frizz she calls a hairstyle. “I’m sales. Get Amber to make them.” “What, you can’t work the copier?” I glance over at Amber’s desk, which is mysteriously empty, and groan. “Where is she, anyway?” 6

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Evan’s desk is nearby, and he looks up when he hears my voice. There’s that faint smile of his, coupled with a smolder in his eyes as his gaze trails down the front of my body and I swear touches me in places that throb beneath its intensity. “Bathroom,” he says. For one crazy second, I wonder if that’s an offer. Maybe we could sneak away, just the two of us, to the bathroom or my office or even the supply closet, somewhere we could press together and let our hands and lips finally meet. But he doesn’t suggest any of that, and I can’t, remember? I’m his boss. So he settles for staring at my crotch as if he sees how turned on I am just being this close to him, and it takes an eternity for those pale eyes of his to rise high enough to meet mine. His smile widens when he sees me watching. Reaching across the span between the desks, he practically knocks over his chair trying to snag the papers off Charity’s keyboard. “I can make the copies, if you want.” Behind me, Charity giggles. “I’m sure you can. Anything else you want him to do for you while he’s at it, Jeff?” A thin blush creeps into Evan’s cheeks—the girls kid him about me, I know they do. He’s so damn obvious, doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants to get with me. I like to think I’m not that transparent. I pretend I don’t hear Amber’s comments or see Charity’s grin when Evan hurries into my office a dozen times a day just to ask me this, that, or the other thing. I try to ignore the accidental touches, his hand on my shoulder, my arm, my wrist, the way he stands so close beside me or taps my shoe with his foot beneath the table. I try not to let him see exactly what his coy smiles and flirty looks do to me. As much as I might encourage it, I can’t tell him I want him just as badly as he seems to want me. He 7

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can’t ever know that. Not as long as I’m turning in his hours, isn’t that what Kirk said? Never mind that we’re all salaried. I wonder if that argument would fly, but already suspect I know the answer. Of course not. I take the papers from Evan and hand them back to Charity. “Make the damn copies,” I tell her, angry. “Mr. Morris is waiting.” “Let him wait,” she mutters, but it’s a hollow argument. With an annoyed sigh, she flounces away, heading for the copier. “I could’ve done it for you,” Evan tells me. I turn to find him beside me—when did that happen? He’s stepped around his desk and now leans against the edge of Charity’s, so close that one hand brushes over mine where it’s tucked into the pocket of my pants. He stares at me, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. I know he’s doing this on purpose, looking this fine, looking like this, like he’s more than willing to do anything I want him to do, and he’s not sure what it might be but he’s hoping it involves my pants down around my ankles and my thick length in his mouth, his hands on my ass. His tongue peeks out to wet his upper lip in what I tell myself is an unconscious gesture. It has to be. He practically purrs when he says, “I don’t mind.” “It’s okay.” I force a tight smile. Of course he doesn’t mind— he wants me, I can feel his need radiating from every pore, and it frustrates the hell out of me that I can’t have him. I shouldn’t even flirt back but I can’t help it. I can’t meet his eyes so I look past him, out the window, and extract my hand from my pocket. It brushes over his, then I gently take his elbow. The mere touch, even through the shirt he wears, threatens to burn my skin. Still tucked away in its own pocket, my other hand pushes against the sudden erection that fills the front of 8

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my pants. “Come on. Mr. Morris wants an update.” Evan gathers the spreadsheets he’s been pouring over all day. My hand stays on his elbow, not so much to guide him anymore but to keep him in place. Beside me, where he belongs. But my hand falls away when he knocks his pen to the floor and bends over to retrieve it. Then I have to clench my fingers into a fist as I stare at him, ass in the air, every nerve in my body itching to reach out and trace the curved flesh hidden beneath his taut pants. That’s a deliberate move, I know it is. He wants me to touch him. I can almost feel his desire radiating from him, like the heat off a small sun. Because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to not touch him, I look away. “Evan,” I sigh, my voice low. We’re relatively alone at the moment—Amber in the restroom, Charity by the copier, the rest of the staff probably already in the boardroom. Kirk nowhere in sight. “I’m coming.” Still bent down, he flashes me a quick grin over his shoulder. At that smile, my breath catches in my throat. Me too. Damn. Those taut, twin buttocks encased in tight khakis…my own pants feel a size too small now, and I shove my fists down into my pockets to press against the hardness growing at my crotch. When that doesn’t work, I shift from one foot to the other, trying to alleviate the ache that’s settled deep within my balls. My gaze flickers around the room like a butterfly, lighting over everything but stopping nowhere. I can only glance at him in quick, short peeks. Anything more threatens to short-circuit my brain. When Evan sees I’m trying not to look at him, he straightens and frowns at the pen in his hand, like it’s the sole reason we have to play this game. As I turn away, he wants to know, “Can I ask 9

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you something?” I shrug, hands still fisted in my pockets. My thumb presses heavily against the erection I’m sporting, and as I look at him, I slowly stroke myself. I hope he doesn’t notice the movement in my pants. I wonder if I have enough time before the meeting starts to pay a quick visit to the executive bathroom. I wouldn’t be long—a few quick jerks and I’d come all over the place. “What is it?” He waits a minute before answering. I hear Charity down the hall, cussing at paper jammed in the copier. I hear the flush of a toilet and I know Amber’s on her way back. I hear music from Kirk’s office, his radio turned up as loud as he can have it without the rest of us complaining. The rush of cooled, conditioned air from the vents drowns out any other ambient noise. The only thing louder than that is the beating of my heart. Tentatively, Evan touches my wrist where my shirt sleeve has pulled up to expose a thin swath of skin. I glance down and watch his fingers on my flesh. A little lower… I want to extract my hand from my pocket and guide his down in it instead. Let him feel what I’m rubbing against in there. Let him know just what he does to me. In a quiet voice, he says, “There’s this party later on tonight and I was wondering if maybe…” Though I have nothing planned, I whisper, “I can’t.” His slight smile dissolves beneath my words, a splash of cold water on this intimate moment between us. I try to explain. “I’d love to, but…Evan…” “I know.” His hand falls away from my arm and his touch is gone. “I just thought I’d ask.” Picking up a notepad, he brushes by me and hurries to the boardroom as if he didn’t just try to ask me out. 10

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As if I didn’t just turn him down. I hate the frown on his face, the one I put there. Right now I want to tell Kirk to fuck his EEO rules—I want that guy. I want him so badly I can taste it, I can feel it, and now somehow I’ll have to get through this evening knowing he’ll be somewhere he wanted to be with me, and I can’t be with him just because of one little clause buried in the middle of the employee handbook. Damn. *

*

*

Kirk doesn’t want an update—he’s trying to waste the rest of the afternoon, so he asks for a run-down of the whole quarter. Promotions, incentives, sales, overstock, discounts, everything. I spend an hour at the front of the boardroom, clicking through an endless collection of PowerPoint slides, pointing out where we’re doing better than projected and glossing over the fact that the money we spent to attend CandyCon last month hasn’t resulted in one damn order. Even I’m bored with this, and a glance around the room shows I’m not the only one. Charity sits hunched over the table, her head so far down that her nose almost touches the paper in front of her. She pretends to be studying the figures but I can see from her scribbling that she’s writing up a grocery list. Across from her, Amber has her head propped up in one hand, eyes closed, her pencil tap tap tapping on the table. Much of the rest of the staff sits in similar poses, staring through me, counting the minutes down until 5:30 when they can rush home. The boss man himself focuses on his open laptop, fingers on the keyboard like he’s taking notes, but I can see the reflection of his screen in the window behind him. He’s playing 11

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Solitaire. He’s not even listening. The only one watching me is Evan. He has this dreamy, faraway look on his face, the way a schoolboy stares at a favorite teacher. In his eyes I can see the two of us in my office with the door closed, both of us naked, me leaning back on the edge of the desk and him kneeling between my legs. My cock juts out from my crotch, thickly veined and rock solid, my balls hanging heavy beneath it. Those pouty lips brush over the swollen tip in a delicate kiss, then open to take me in as far as I’ll go. I gasp as I sit back, my hands clenched in those reddish-blonde curls, his name seared from my throat by the heat of my lust… What am I talking about again? I stumble over my own words, lost in the desire I see in Evan’s eyes. No one seems to notice. “Where was I?” I ask, dazed. I watch Evan’s Adam apple move as he swallows. All I see is the shape his mouth makes as he tells me, “Projected sales at FAO Schwartz.” “Thanks,” I whisper. His lips curve into a seductive smile and he winks at me. Winks. “Right. Schwartz? So—” “Fuck Schwartz,” Kirk says suddenly, closing his laptop. I wonder if he lost the hand he was playing. “Thanks, Wally. Give me a full breakdown on my desk by tomorrow morning, what do you say? Monthly and weekly trends by market, including all the ad campaigns we’ve been running online. While you’re at it, give me a projected look into the rest of this year, as well. Can you do that?” “Tomorrow?” I croak. Sure, I can do it, if I stay all damn night to run the reports. Our system is a pain in the ass, and each report will take a good fifteen minutes to generate. “Do you really need them first thing?” 12

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The grin Kirk gives me could curdle cheese. “Good man. I know you’ll come through for me. Meeting adjourned.” As Charity stretches, she notices Evan’s star struck gaze and taps the back of his head to get his attention. “Come on, lover boy. Pick your tongue up off the floor.” “I’m not…” Evan starts, but Charity’s laughter cuts him off. I turn away from them and begin to get my notes together. I don’t need to be reminded that he likes me. Then I’ll think about how much I like him, and how I shouldn’t because I’m his boss, and how we’ll never hook up as long as he’s with the company, and I just don’t want to go there right now. But from the corner of my eye I see Evan pout prettily and my heart wrenches in my chest all over again. To Charity, he huffs, “At least I was paying attention.” “I was too. I heard every word.” Then, with a shrug, Charity admits, “I just wasn’t listening.” So I spent the last hour talking for nothing. It’s nice to know how much I’m appreciated around here. “Someone wake up Amber.” Kirk stands and tugs on the arm propping up Amber’s head. She jerks forward, instantly awake. “I’m up,” she says, blinking owlishly. “What’d I miss?” Was I that bad? A look at Evan tells me I could’ve been reciting the Iliad in its original Greek and he wouldn’t have cared. I doubt my presentation had him hanging on my every word, though. I think it was the sound of my voice and whatever daydreams he had conjured up to go along with it. The two of us in my office, perhaps, stretched out on the sofa I keep in there for the times I have to pull an all-nighter. 13

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Looks like this might be one of those times. Damn Kirk. At the opposite end of the table, Kirk hasn’t let go of Amber’s arm, and now he pulls it toward him, reeling her in. She gives him a sleepy smile as he rolls her fingers into the palm of his hand. This is making me sick. When he blows her a kiss, I almost want to puke. “Everyone get back to work,” he says, his voice soft as he returns Amber’s smile. “You come with me, beautiful. I have something I need you to file.” With a kittenish purr, she murmurs, “And I think I know right where you want me to put it, too.” That’s it, I can’t take any more. Slamming my notebooks down on the table, I ask, “Can’t your own assistant handle that for you, Kirk?” Amber frowns at me, hurt. “She better not.” Across the conference table, Charity mutters under her breath, “Meow.” Rising from the table, Kirk keeps Amber’s hand in his so she stands, as well. “I won’t keep her long, Wally. I just need a touch of her exceptional filing skills…” Over her giggle, I ask, “What, your own hand broken?” Now Charity laughs. Amber flips her long hair over one shoulder, a show of displeasure I’ve learned to ignore. Leaning across the table, Charity whispers loudly, “He’s just jealous, hon. You missed the strip show during the meeting. Boy Wonder here undressing our fearless leader with his eyes.” Evan’s face flushes a dark red. “That’s enough,” I warn. I don’t need to hear this. Some days I don’t think I should fire Evan so much as I should just quit. Pushing through the others toward the door, I elbow past 14

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Amber and glare at Kirk’s smug expression as I leave the boardroom. He has the audacity to ask, “What?” “Nothing,” I mutter. I can still feel Evan watching me, his gaze igniting my blood until it feels like fire in my veins. Nothing at all. *

*

*

Twenty minutes later Amber’s still not back at her desk. Kirk’s door is still closed, the damn radio in there turned up louder than ever and the rest of us trying to ignore it. Through the open door of my office I can see Charity lean over to whisper something to Evan. Whatever she says makes him blush, and Charity starts up that annoying little giggle of hers…that alone makes me think she’s still talking about me. Evan turns back to his computer, shoulders hunched, as if Charity’s words weigh him down. I feel bad for the poor boy. Would it be so bad to take him in my arms and kiss away the color in his cheeks? Or smooth out the lines in his brow? Or hell, while I’m at it, smack Charity upside the head for picking on him so relentlessly? Leave him alone, I want to say, but knowing the women I work with, that will only fuel the flames. So I pull out the sales leads I’ve gotten from the web, a whole stack of stores we need to start calling, and I storm out of my office to toss the papers down on Charity’s desk. “Get started on these,” I tell her. “It should keep you busy.” “It’s almost time to leave,” she protests. As if she can’t work the last hour of the day. When Evan glances over at us and sniggers, Charity divvies the stack of printouts in half. “You get half of these, lover boy.” 15

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Ever helpful, Evan holds a hand out for his share, but I take the papers from Charity and deposit them back on her desk. “These are yours.” To Evan, I say, “I’ve got something else in mind for you.” Under her breath, Charity mutters, “I bet you do.” I want to slap her for that. Handing Evan the disk with my PowerPoint presentation on it, I say, “Can you get me notes from these files? Just something to pass out to everyone who didn’t listen at the meeting.” I shoot his coworker a withering look she refuses to acknowledge. “You don’t have to get fancy.” Beside me, Charity laughs. “He wants you to give it to him straight up, sugar.” “I have more leads,” I threaten, “if that’s not enough—” “It’s plenty,” Charity mumbles. “I’m only kidding.” She glares at me as if I’ve spoiled her party. I’m glad she thinks she’s pretty funny because I sure as hell don’t. Is this what Evan has to put up with when both girls are in the office? Between Charity and Amber, I don’t think I could stand it. “Get to work.” And, just to show I’m not picking on her, I’m being equal here, I grin at Evan and add, “Both of you.” “One more hour,” I hear Charity grouse as I head back to my office. “How many people can I call in one damn hour?” Over my shoulder, I tell her, “Find out.” I’m sure she won’t get very far on the list—hell, I’d be surprised if she gets one called. As I watch from my office, she thumbs through the pages I gave her, picks up the phone a time or two, and maybe even bothers to dial a number. It’s just one digit, though, and before she gets any farther, she puts the receiver back to shuffle through the papers again. “Hey, lover boy,” she calls out, loud enough that I can overhear. “You want to help me with some 16

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of these?” Evan’s chair squeaks as he leans back to look at her. The motion puts him in my line of sight and, for the briefest moment, our eyes meet. I feel an arc of lust shoot through me, from my head straight down my spine to zap my dick, which stiffens uncomfortably in my pants. That look cancels out everything between us—I feel like I’m falling, and I grip the edge of my desk to stay in place. Those eyes! Running a hand through his short, tight curls, Evan gives me a sunny grin, then shifts his gaze to Charity. Only then does my heart beat again, and I draw in a shuddery breath as I turn back to my computer screen. I have reports to run and e-mails to answer and a hundred other things I should be doing besides mooning over the guy. Still, I can’t help but smirk when he answers Charity, “Um, no thanks. I’m busy myself.” “Is it time to go home yet?” Charity gripes. “Take a few of them, please. You know he won’t get mad at you if those notes aren’t done…” Glaring at my monitor, I raise my voice to warn, “Charity.” “Oh, yeah,” she mutters. “Yell at me.” She goes back to shuffling the papers, riffling through them as if looking for a particular name to call. From the corner of my eye I can see her, and Evan behind her, still watching me. I glance up, look away quickly, then dare to look back. He’s still staring at me. Like what you see? I think I should do something bold—a smile this time, maybe, or a wink. Something unexpected. Something to make him flash that sunshine grin my way again. But when I look back, something on Charity’s screen snags her attention and she sets the stack of papers aside to turn to her 17

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computer, which places the back of her head right between myself and Evan. He’s no longer in my line of vision. Damn it, he missed the wink. *

*

*

When 5:30 rolls around, I see her stack the papers together. She hasn’t made the first call. With a show of gathering her things, she straightens her desk, turns off her computer, then ducks out of sight to rummage around in her drawer for her purse and lunch bag. I get a good view of Evan then, and am more than a little pleased to see him still studiously tuned to his monitor, plugging away at the PowerPoint I gave him. If I had a dozen more employees like him, sales would skyrocket. Yeah, right, and my own productivity would plummet. A room full of hot guys out there would have me jerking off so much, my dick would be sore. I’d wear a path between my office and the bathroom. Or, better yet, just sit behind my desk with my pants unzipped and fondle myself right here. No, I couldn’t handle more than one employee like him. I don’t want more. I want that one, there, him. I want him naked before me, on the chair in front of my desk maybe, or kneeling on the floor, or spread out along my couch. His bare skin would be dotted with pale freckles, and a small tuft of hair would trail from his navel down to erupt into fiery curls at his crotch. All too well, I can imagine him lying on my cushions, nude, the length of his cock resting over the top of one thigh, his fingers scratching through kinked pubes, a hooded expression in those bedroom eyes… The sound of Charity’s purse landing heavily on her desk interrupts my daydream. She hauls the heavy sack onto one 18

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shoulder as she stands. Her chair screeches out from under her, then is slid back into place against her desk with just as much noise. To Evan, she asks, “Are you heading out?” He glances over his shoulder, sees her, sees me, and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m going to finish up here first. I’m just about done.” With a shrug like she couldn’t care less, Charity scoops up the stack of sales leads and flounces out of my view. I hear her set them down with a slap—probably depositing them on Amber’s desk. That’s going to spark something in the morning. Amber will say it isn’t her job to follow up on the leads; she’s just a receptionist. Funny how her title changes to suit her mood. Evan stays at his desk, still working on my notes, and I stay at mine, watching him. That party he asked me to go to tonight? I wonder if he’s got someone else already in mind to take. I wonder why the fuck I can’t find the courage to go. Across the room, Kirk’s door opens and Amber comes out, a smug grin on her face that lights up her eyes. Her hair is a disheveled mess, flyaway blonde strands standing out in all directions as she runs a hand over her scalp to try to smooth them down. I hear her stop at her desk—there’s a peeved sigh, the slam of a drawer, then she steps into view long enough to drop the leads back onto Charity’s desk. Hiking her purse up onto her shoulder, she tells Evan, “Time to go.” As if he might not know. With a quick grin her way, he says, “I’m going to finish up here first. Have a good night.” Amber turns, her hair and skirt both flaring out around her, and catches my eye. With a knowing smirk, she says, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I don’t know if she’s talking to me or Evan, but I honestly doubt there’s precious little that would fall into that category. 19

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Kirk comes up behind her and she gives me a curt nod as he takes her elbow. “Later, Jeff.” I glare at my computer screen and make a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat. Her flippant attitude pisses me off. What I should do is put in for a transfer…say, hire Kirk’s assistant out from under him and stick Amber in the poor girl’s place. Then what would they do? Kirk would have to amend the damn employee manual, cut out that no frat clause, if he wants to keep banging her on the side. As he leads her out of the office, he stops at my door. “You gonna lock up for me, Wally?” I narrow my eyes at him, which only makes him laugh. “How are those reports coming along?” “You need them by tomorrow,” I say, not so much to remind him but to maybe hope he’ll change his mind. Then I can duck out of here with the others and spend the night alone with my hands and a bottle of lotion, picturing Evan in a crowded club dancing up against a hot, half-naked guy in the darkness. When he should be dancing up against me instead. As if he can hear my sordid thoughts, Kirk glances behind Amber and frowns at Evan’s back. “Are you both working late?” “He’ll be leaving soon,” I promise. I can’t imagine it’ll take Evan much longer to finish compiling those notes. Kirk raises his eyebrows, jerks a thumb toward Evan, and shakes his head. I get the message. Hands off. Like I don’t know. Fuck you, I think, turning back to my computer. I don’t need him to remind me I can’t touch the guy. Singly or in pairs, the rest of the staff trickles out. There’s a lot of slamming doors and shuffling drawers, then some noise from the parking lot outside the window in my office—people calling out to friends as they get into their cars, loud music blaring from 20

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speakers, tires and brakes squealing as they head home. I frown at my computer, mentally willing the program to run its damn reports a little faster now that everyone else has left and freed up the server’s resources, but no luck. The progress bar on the screen fills in slowly and the hourglass turns, over and over again. These reports take forever, and Kirk wants how many? I’m going to be here all night, I just know it. Evan is probably just going to finish up the slide he’s on and then he’ll leave. I’m trying not to think about the fact that we’re alone in the office, the only two employees left, no one else here. Just him and me. Alone. That thought stirs my blood more than I’d like to admit. The front of my pants has grown tight again and I shift uncomfortably in my chair. My dick feels confined, tied down, constrained. My balls throb like a heart ache, each pulse of blood painful. I wiggle a little, drop a hand to my crotch to rearrange things there, and give myself a healthy squeeze that makes my breath catch in the back of my throat. If Evan weren’t out in the main office, if I were truly alone, I wouldn’t even bother heading for the bathroom right now. Just tug down my zipper a bit and stroke myself through my open fly right here at my desk. Unconsciously, my fingers pick at the front of my pants, the zipper caught between my forefinger and thumb. I give it an experimental pull but stop myself before I can get carried away. Evan is right there. If I lean a little to the left, I can see him— Turned away from his desk, facing my office. Watching me. Both hands find my keyboard, and I press my knees together as if that will be enough to stem the erection growing in my pants. The reports, I think, frowning at the computer screen. I have to remind myself I’m working here, as is he. 21

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I risk a second glance. He’s not even pretending to work. He’s staring at me. Then my computer program beeps, signaling that the first report has finished. I jump, startled. No more of these silly games. I have work to do. I’m the boss. For the next half hour, I concentrate on my job. Around us, the office is silent—at some point I hear a vacuum run in another room, but because our lights are still on, the cleaning crew doesn’t disturb us. At any moment, I expect Evan to knock on my door, just a quick tap, to tell me he’s heading out. There’s no reason for him to stay, really. Those notes I asked him to type up don’t need to be done tonight, but it’s quarter after six and he’s still at his desk. So sweet, this one. I want him so bad. As quietly as I can, I push back my chair and step around my desk. Evan’s turned toward his computer, still plugging away at the slides. He doesn’t hear me walk up behind him, he’s that lost in what he’s doing. I stand as close as I dare, closer than I would if anyone else were here with us—my hands itch to grab his chair and swivel it around. Palms flat on the back of the chair, one on either side of his head… I picture leaning down over him, my lips brushing his tight curls before I duck down to catch his mouth in a quick kiss. Who would see? Before I can be that bold, Evan notices my reflection in his computer screen and turns. My fingers curl into fists and I clench them at my sides, hating this. “Evan?” I ask, my voice deeper than it should be. He does this to me. “I’m almost done,” he tells me. “I just have a few more slides…” Leaning against his desk, I grin down at him. “Leave it for tomorrow, what do you say? Go on home.” 22

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He laughs. “It’s okay.” His eyes do that thing where they look into mine and then that gaze trails down my body, my chest, my stomach. I can feel that look on my groin, as palpable as a touch. “I don’t mind staying. It’s not like I have anything else planned for the night.” He trails off, looking up at me as if begging me to make an offer he won’t refuse. I can’t. Kirk said I can’t. Hoping to steer the conversation into a safe direction, I ask, “What about that party you mentioned? I’m sure you’d rather be there than here.” His smile turns sad, wistful. “Yeah,” he says, his voice soft. “Only problem is the hot guy I wanted to go with turned me down.” Christ. Just twist the knife a bit, would you? “Evan—” He shakes his head. “No really, it’s cool. I know…” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, which doesn’t budge. “I know how it is.” An awkward silence envelops us. Evan leans back in his chair, casual, one foot tapping on the leg of his desk as he stares at my waist. The thoughtful expression on his face tells me he’s searching for something to say to keep me here. I know, because I’m furiously doing the same thing. My gaze roams around the office, looking for anything to light on and talk about, but everything I come up with sounds stupid and inane so I keep my mouth shut. Finally I push away from his desk with a sigh. “Well, don’t let me keep you—” Evan touches my wrist. “Wait. Are you still running those reports?” 23

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I glance down at his fingers on my skin and can’t trust myself to speak, so I just nod instead. Evan’s thumb strokes down my own, a soft, intimate gesture that turns me on more than all the other brief touches and coy looks have in the past. My hand trembles beneath his—I want to take his fingers in mine to steady them, and because I’m afraid of what might happen if I do just that, I pull away. Before Evan can follow, I tuck my hand into my front pocket. I hope the bulge it creates hides the one already straining the front of my briefs. Once his touch is gone, I nod again. The reports, right. What I should be doing, instead of standing here. “I’ll probably be running them for another few hours or so.” I force a quick laugh. “It’s going to be a long night.” Evan smiles up at me like pure sunshine in this dreary office. “Let me help,” he says. “We can get them done in half the time if we use two computers. Maybe less, if we turn on the others.” I hadn’t thought of that. All the computers in our department have access to the reporting software. Though each user can only log into the system once per session, I have a master password list in my desk—I could log in as Amber and Charity both and get the reports done in a fraction of the time. I could log in as Evan, too…there’s no real reason he has to stay to help. But his presence would definitely improve my evening. “Great idea,” I tell him with a clap on his shoulder. His hand rises, drawn to mine as if magnetized, but before he touches me, I move away and play off the move by digging my wallet out of my back pocket. Flipping through its contents, I extract the company credit card and hold it out to him. “How about we get something to eat, what do you say? Some kind of take-out, pizza maybe. Whatever you want. Are you hungry?” 24

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“Oh yeah.” His gaze drops to my crotch, much bolder now that we’re alone. “I’m starving.” Ignoring his innuendo, I give him the credit card and return to my office. It’ll be difficult, working so closely with him tonight with no one else around to keep us apart, but I’m his boss. I have to keep this in mind. I’m the one in charge here. I can do this. Before I get two steps, Evan calls out, “Hey, Jeff?” Something in his voice stops me in mid-step. I glance over my shoulder and see him, the phone receiver in one hand, his tie loosened, the top few buttons on his shirt undone. His gaze rakes down my body as if I’m a tall glass of cool water he’s eying on a hot day such as this. His full lips twist with indecision—he wants to say something more, I suspect, something special. He wants to move past this tentative stage, break through the meniscus that traps us in these roles. He wants me, I know it. I feel it. If he asks now, I’ll say yes. But his courage falters. The phone in his ear starts to beep and he hits the release button to silence it. That small distraction is all we need to remind us where we stand, who we are. I take another step toward my office and he clears his throat, the moment lost. “Pizza okay?” he asks. “What do you like on it?” “Whatever you want is good with me,” I tell him. I mean that in more ways than one. Once inside my office I ignore the computer and the reports, instead heading for the tall bookshelf I have along one wall. My copy of the employee manual is tattered and well-worn, the page I’m looking for so dog-eared that the volume opens to it automatically. The Company strictly forbids senior employees, management, or anyone in a supervisory position to fraternize with, date, or be married to subordinates within in their direct 25

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employ. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if Kirk owns the company, that makes everyone in his “direct employ,” doesn’t it? He’s not just my boss, but by extension, Amber’s, as well. Damn his double standard. *

*

*

After he phones in a pizza, Evan comes into my office and leans over the front of my desk. “Where do you want me to start?” I glance up to find him hovering above me, and suddenly my lips feel so dry, my tongue darts out to wet them. Evan smiles at the gesture—the bridge of his nose crinkles when he does that, and his eyes disappear into half-moons, so cute. I wonder if they do that when he comes, too. I can imagine his mouth open, his lips taut, his voice throaty and low as he moans my name… “Jeff?” With a start, I knock over the coffee mug beside me and scramble to rescue the pens that fall out of it to scatter across my desk. “First quarter,” I tell him, ducking down to retrieve the pens from the floor. When I sit up again, I crack the back of my head on the underside of my desk. “Shit! Evan…” He comes around the side of my desk, reaching for me. Strong hands rub over my scalp, soothing. His fingers delve into my hair, massaging my head. “Are you okay?” For a moment, I savor his touch. I imagine those hands in other places—trailing over my chest perhaps, or cupping my erection, those fingers tickling beneath my balls to rim quivering skin. I drop the pens I’m holding and they clatter to the floor a second time. I hate myself when I pull away. “Evan, please.” 26

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He steps back, hands raised as if to show me he’s unarmed. I hate the look of consternation I’ve put on his pretty features. “I didn’t mean—” “I know.” I scoot my chair back farther and flash him a quick grin. The reports. I have to keep reminding myself why we’re still here. “Start at the first quarter, will you? I’m running the monthly reports first, so if you start gathering the weekly data, that’ll be a big help. Thanks.” He lingers as if he wants to say more, but I disappear under the desk again to gather up the pens and he doesn’t speak. This time, the pens stay in my hands, and I’m careful not to hit my head when I sit up. “There we go.” I sink back into my chair and flash him a quick grin as I hold up the pens in triumph. Without a word he takes them from me, his fingers warm when they brush over mine; he deposits the pens into the coffee mug and moves it back away from the edge of my desk so it won’t fall again. “Jeff,” he says with a sigh. “Can I ask you something?” Why does he always start like that? The question is so loaded, I’m afraid to answer. Hoping I sound nonchalant, I shrug and scoot closer to my computer as if the reports I’m running are so damn important, I can’t spare him more than a minute or two. “Sure.” Evan steps closer to my chair—I see his reflection on my monitor, the frown that twists his lips, the indecision that flickers in his eyes. I wouldn’t blame him if he asks if he can leave now. We’re like two magnets, inexplicably drawn to each other but the moment we get too near, propriety and Kirk’s clause in the manual push us away. Just go, I want to tell him. It’s hard enough being alone with him as it is; I don’t need him in my office, behind my desk, his hands resting on the back of my chair… 27

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As I watch, those hands ease down the sides of my high-back leather chair and find my shoulders. I tense at Evan’s touch, so gentle, so innocent. Then his grip tightens and his thumbs knead into my muscles, an impromptu massage. I can’t stop the slight moan that escapes my lips. God, that feels good. With a circular motion, Evan digs into the tight band across my shoulder blades. My hands go limp on the keyboard and I lean back, savoring his touch. His thumbs play over bunched muscles, working out the knots, while his fingers caress my neck and jaw. I shouldn’t enjoy this, a part of my mind whispers, but I can’t help it. I’m like a child’s chalk drawing, melting in the rain. My arms loosen, my muscles relax, my head falls back against my chair as my eyes slip shut. My whole body cries out for more. “Do you like that?” Evan whispers. I only manage a faint groan of pleasure—words more solid than that are beyond me at the moment. I can easily envision these strong hands kneading down my arms, across my back, over my buttocks, squeezing, lifting, separating my ass cheeks to allow Evan in. I catch my lower lip between my teeth to keep from whimpering. I should tell him to stop, I know it, but my mouth has forgotten how to form anything more than the most guttural of moans. “You’re so tense,” Evan purrs. His face is inches from my own, his breath tickling my ear. When I turn toward the sound of his voice, he presses his mouth to mine in a sweet kiss. He’s soft and damp, and as his hands knead my shoulders, his tongue parts my lips. The moment he licks into me, I can no longer resist. The chair turns beneath his weight, turning me toward him. 28

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Evan’s hands rub at my shoulders, then massage my neck, my throat, before his nimble fingers pluck at the knot in my tie. Once it hangs open, he grips the ends in either hand and pulls me up into him. His kiss grows demanding, insistent—his lips mash against mine, hungry for more. My hands clutch at his shirt before dropping lower to find the belt loops on his pants. Catching those loops with my forefingers, I pull him closer. I need him, I need this. Without argument, he climbs into my lap, one knee on either side of my legs as he straddles me. The poor chair creaks beneath our combined weight, and when the force of his kiss presses me back, the chair squeals in protest. “I know we shouldn’t,” Evan whispers, his words lost between us. “I know we can’t. But God, Jeff, I want you so bad. You have no clue.” Oh, but I do. My hands spread around his hips to disappear into the back pockets of his khakis. His round buttocks fit my palms perfectly, and when I give them a playful squeeze, Evan thrusts toward me. Releasing my tie, he unbuttons my shirt as he kisses my chin, my jaw, my ear—I gasp his name and hug him tight against me. If nothing more comes of his working late but these kisses and his welcome weight in my lap, I will go to bed this evening with added fuel for all my erotic fantasies he’s starred in since he started working for me. But my hands have a mind of their own. They aren’t satisfied with gripping Evan’s ass—they want more. I want more. As he unbuttons my shirt, my fingers tickle around his waist, following the curved leather of his belt, until they find the buckle at the front of his pants. In two seconds, the time it takes for him to breathe my name in my ear and send shivers of delight down my spine, I have 29

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the belt unbuckled and his zipper down. My hand eases into the open fly of his khakis to rub along the sheathed hardness coiled at his crotch. My name in his voice turns to a gasp of pleasure. Evan bucks against me, pressing his body to mine. “Yes.” That’s all the encouragement I need. My body’s on auto-pilot now, my mind a blur of emotion, my thoughts spun out in a whirl. Forgotten is the office around us and that stupid paragraph in Kirk’s dumb manual. Evan’s heels thump against my desk as he tries to spread his legs farther apart and can’t because of the confines of my chair, but now that I have him in hand, I don’t dare let him go. The couch would be more comfortable, perhaps, or even the floor in a pinch. But I’ve waited so long for a taste of this man in my arms, and every moment that passes is another moment wasted. I want him, I need him. I have to have him. Now. Sitting up a bit, I lean Evan back. His hands trail down my chest, over my stomach, to unbutton my pants. My erection strains through the fly eagerly, as does his own. He hooks his fingers into my briefs and tugs them down below my balls, exposing my thick shaft. My dick isn’t quite as huge as it is in my daydreams, but he doesn’t seem to mind—he grasps at it willingly, his hands hot along my length, his fingers massaging my balls and rubbing at the base of my cock. He bends down, tongue out, as he tries to taste the tip of my dick… He manages one quick lick before I come in a hot rush. I’ve been hard for him all day, and there’s no way I could’ve held it any longer. “Shit.” White cum beads in his strawberry curls, in his eyebrows and eyelashes. It streaks his cheeks, drips from his nose, and coats his 30

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lips like a milk mustache. With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth, then licks my juice off his fingers. “Not quite what I expected,” he says with a grin. “You should’ve warned me you were cocked and loaded.” “I’ve been sitting here all day with a hard-on for you,” I mutter, embarrassed. He runs his hand through my hair, mussing it with my own cum. But when he leans down to kiss me again, I ease him back against my desk. He works his tie free and unbuttons his shirt, spreading it open to let me see that he wears nothing beneath—no T-shirt like Kirk, no undershirt like me. His chest is smooth, his nipples ruddy where they peek from tufts of reddish-blond hair. Freckles dot his skin, making it look dusky in the overhead light of my office. The hint of muscle outlines his abs, and there’s that treasure trail I wanted to see, the thin line of barely-there hair that disappears into the front of his briefs. Following that trail with one finger, I pluck at his briefs, then hook my finger into the waistband and pull them down. His dick swings up to meet me, long and thin, not as thick as mine but rocksolid as it curves to the right. The muscles at his base stand out strong like cords, holding him erect, and nestled in his fiery hair, his balls are a deep plum color that matches the tip of his dick. With my hands on his lower belly, I stroke his stomach as I lay him against my desk. He leans back, propped up on his elbows, his dick jutting out at me like an accusation. His head hangs back between his shoulders, his mouth a perfect O of delight. “Please,” he sighs as my fingers tickle over his navel and my breath fans his hard dick. “Jesus, Jeff. I can’t hold it forever, either.” Bending closer, I kiss his cockhead, then open my mouth and take him in. He tastes decadent, musky, and more than a little salty, 31

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an ambrosia I haven’t had in a while. With the tip of his dick against the roof of my mouth, just behind my front teeth, I run my tongue along the slit as fast as I can. He jerks beneath me, hips rising to thrust more of his length into me. I oblige, dipping down to deep-throat his cock. My lips kiss the base of his shaft, my nose buried in kinked hair. Then I pull back to savor the tip again. This time I taste pre-cum, a sweetness that makes my mouth water. I purse my lips and suck him heavily, moving my mouth up and down his length. “Yes,” he gasps. He fucks against me, eager to get off, and his breath comes in quick hitches. “Yes, yes.” With one hand, I massage his length, working my saliva into his skin as I stroke him toward release. My other hand fondles his balls, alternately rubbing and pinching them to elicit Evan’s moans. I pull back again, concentrating on his cockhead—I love the feel of it in my mouth, the taste of it, the way it butts against the roof of my mouth and quivers between my lips. Very gently, I nibble at the spongy tip and Evan’s cry tears from his throat. “Yes.” Holding his dick firm in my grasp, I focus only on his glans. I kiss along his slit, my tongue darting out rapidly to flicker under the flared head. I suckle it, milking it, my hand squeezing up his length to draw out his orgasm. The first dribble of cum bubbles into my mouth and I open wide, every muscle in me relaxing to take him in. When I swallow out of reflex, it triggers his release and he shoots deep into me as I drink him down. *

*

*

The next morning, I’m already at my desk when Kirk stumbles into my office. He looks like he dressed in the dark, his hair in 32

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desperate need of a comb. “Does Amber seriously let you out of the house looking like that?” I ask. Kirk slugs back his coffee and grimaces. “Where are those reports you ran for me?” It’s too early for his shit. “On your desk. Where else would I put them?” Kirk leans against my door and stumbles when it swings back beneath his weight. “What time did you guys leave last night?” With a shrug, I stare at my monitor and avoid his harsh gaze. “Eight or so. We ordered pizza. Hope you don’t mind—I put it on the company card. I figure it’s your fault we had to stay late in the first place.” Kirk glances over his shoulder at Evan’s desk, which is curiously empty. Taking a step into my office, he lowers his voice and asks, “What’d you do, fire him? Where is he?” “He’s running late.” I allow myself an arched look that tells Kirk nothing. “Ask Amber, if you’re so curious. She took the message.” Another step closer, and Kirk’s voice drops even lower. “You two didn’t… I mean, rules are rules, you know. You didn’t—” “No. We didn’t.” Now I meet his gaze, and whatever he sees in my eyes assures him. As he sips at the rest of his coffee, I add silently, At least, not here. After dinner when the reports were finished, Evan followed me home. We spent an exhaustive night in each other’s arms—that long dick of his filled me up perfectly, and that little kink in it that makes it bear right? That hit the magic spot. I felt like a teenager all over again, shooting off multiple times as Evan fucked me. When my alarm sounded this morning, Evan lingered in my bed as I showered and dressed. Running late was his idea, so it 33

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wouldn’t look like we’d been together. Ten minutes after I arrived at the office, the phone rang and I knew it was him. I let Amber answer it so she’d buy his story. When Kirk asks, she says, “He stayed out late at some party. He asked Jeff to go but, you know, he said no.” A little after nine, Evan hurries into the office. He stops at my door, breathless, his cheeks flushed with color. With his back to his coworkers, he blows me a kiss the girls can’t see. “Sorry I’m late.” I give him a wink that makes his eyes light up. “I need copies of those notes you stayed late to work on. Did you have fun last night after you left?” “Did I?” Evan laughs, a contagious sound that makes me grin to hear it. “I’m looking forward to doing that again sometime soon.” I see Charity frown as Evan heads for his desk, and she throws a look across the aisle at Amber before glancing at me. But I’m back at my computer, concentrating on the sales data, my mind already looking ahead to this evening, when Evan will swing by my place for dinner and a repeat performance in my bed. My whole body trills with anticipation. What Kirk doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

34

J. M. SNYDER

An author of gay erotic/romantic fiction, J. M. Snyder began selfpublishing gay erotic fiction in 2002. Since then, Snyder has released several books in trade paperback format and has begun exploring the world of e-publishing, working with Amber Quill Press and other e-publishers. Snyder’s highly erotic short gay fiction has been published online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Sticky Pen, and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies by Aspen Mountain Press and Cleis Press. A full bibliography, as well as free fiction, book excerpts, purchasing information, and exclusive contests, can be found at: www.jmsnyder.net *

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Don’t miss Carey’d Away by J. M. Snyder, available at AmberAllure.com! Carey Thornton is tired of couples. All his friends have someone special and he feels like the odd man out. Painfully single, Carey cruises the nightclubs and gay party scene, flirting with any hot guy who looks his way, but he always seems to be the one to go home alone.

It’s comic convention weekend at the Omni Hotel where Carey works, and somehow he got roped into working the registration desk in the dealer room. While checking in the vendors before the crowds arrive, he meets the sexy Pat Dix, setting up the booth for Kryptonite Comics. Horribly shy, Patrick has never dreamt an outgoing, fun-loving guy like Carey would ever find him attractive. He’s surprised when Carey asks him to hang out after the convention hall closes, and he surprises himself by saying “yes.” A late night in the hotel pool with Carey’s rowdy friends might just be what Patrick needs to break him out of his shell. But it isn’t until the friends leave them alone that Patrick gets “Carey’d away.”

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