Chapter 1

“Dammit,” I let my arm flop to the side and opened my fingers. The vibrator rolled out of my hand and thudded onto the floor. Orgasms were getting harder and harder to achieve without having another warm body against mine. My resolve to stay far away from men after what Matt had done was softening.

I peeled myself from my bed and plodded into the bathroom. Ugh, the oversized vanity mirror. I hated it, and there was no way to escape its reflection.

I’d shifted some of the weight I’d gained during my six-year relationship with Matt, though I still wanted to lose enough to get back into the jeans I’d worn when I met him. I even keep them at the back of my closet for when that day came. At twenty-eight my breasts were still pert, at least. My roots needed doing.

I stepped into the shower and anxiety kicked in about the workday ahead. The water pounded off my forehead as I contemplated the fastest way to get the dreaded WeeksEnd report over and done with.

My manager, Calvin, required an end-of-week report every Friday. He thought he was clever, ‘It’s a week send off at the week’s end’ but I failed to see the point of it, other than Calvin got a little tingle every time he said the term WeeksEnd. Fridays used to be something to look forward to, before he got the job.

I did my hair and make-up then pulled on a tight navy skirt, to remind myself to pay attention to what I ate, and a cream blouse. After sticking my navy pumps in my bag, I locked my condo door and walked the fifteen minutes to my office in comfortable shoes. The commute through Chicago’s busy downtown was my favorite thing about the job. At least, it had been since Calvin became my boss.

* * *

“Morning, Sam,” I smiled to my co-worker and cubicle-mate as I slung my bag into my chair. I slipped off the sneakers and pulled out my heels.

“Hey! It’s Friday, all ready for the WeeksEnd report?” Sam asked with a wink.

“This is what I’d like to do to the WeeksEnd report.” I made a hammering motion with the shoe in my hand.

“Yes, this requires coffee. Shall we?” Sam swung her chair around and stood, her long curls bouncing with the movement.

“Most definitely.”

We made our way to the little independent coffee shop on the corner by the office. Friday mornings were always super busy and we got in line.

I listened to Sam order the jumbo deluxe chocolate mocha, which sent my mind to my already tight waistband. I should hang those jeans at the front of the closet, for the extra motivation.

“Skinny regular,” I said to the clerk.

“Uh-huh, your name?” the frazzled-looking clerk asked.

“Abbie.”

“I think our drinks may take a while. Be right back,” Sam apologized and sprinted to the restroom. She always needed to pee before eating or drinking, as if her body needed to make room for the new stuff.

I shuffled to the drink collection area, though it was impossible to get anywhere near the counter due to the horde of people still waiting for their caffeine fixes. I ended up leaning against the wall. Through the heaving crowd I noticed a gorgeous man stirring his coffee for a ridiculously long time. Once or twice I thought I caught him looking at me but I decided that I was being silly.

As the other customers left and made space, I moved to the collection point. At last they called my name and I took the coffee to the preparation area. I grabbed a sugar and tore it open but as I lifted it to pour, I paused remembering the jeans that I wanted to fit into again.

“Trying to resist?” a man said, his voice smooth and rich.

“Um?” I snapped out of my thoughts. My eyes refocused and I looked to the voice. It was the same man I’d noticed earlier. He still hadn’t left the prep area.

“Put it in, you can spare it,” he said, flashing me a brilliant smile.

It was a little unnerving, coming from a stranger in a coffee shop. Only he didn’t seem creepy. Maybe there was a legitimate reason for him standing there so long. I sized him up, early or mid-thirties, nice suit, deep brown eyes. He was tall but not crazy tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist.

“You can’t stand there all day hovering a sugar packet over your drink.”

I realized my arm hadn’t moved and I tipped a little of the sugar into the coffee.

“Here,” he handed me a stir stick.

“Thanks,” I said, examining him more. His dark hair had a lot of volume and a slight wave. Executive hair most men would envy. And mesmerizing deep brown eyes.

“No problem. Do you come here often?”

“Closest coffee to the office.”

At that moment Sam appeared and dumped two packs of sugar into her chocolate mocha.

“Screw it, it’s Friday,” Sam said as she added a third sugar to her drink. “Ready to face the big C and his damn WeeksEnd?”

“Ugh, let’s go,” I sighed.

“Well, very nice to meet you, Abbie. I’ll see you around.”

“Uh, sure,” I said, disconcerted he’d used my name.

The second we were out the door Sam started probing me.

“Who was he?”

“Just some guy.”

“Just some absurdly hot guy! Why were you talking to him?”

“He was talking to me.”

“Oh my God, he was trying to pick you up! At nine in the morning! In a coffee shop!”

“I doubt it, he was fixing his coffee.”

“Come on, Abbie, how long does it take to fix a coffee? And when was the last time you talked to a stranger in the morning zombie rush of a coffee shop? Never!”

“Oh well, we’ve left now. I’ll never see him again.”

Was he really trying to pick me up, or was he a crazy stalker? After all, I had noticed him standing around before my coffee was ready. The hurt of Matt ensured I wasn’t interested in a relationship, but I couldn’t ignore the ache between my legs much more. It had been so long since I’d been with a man.

I still wasn’t sure how I felt about sleeping with someone else or someone else seeing me naked. I didn’t have the confidence in my body or myself that I’d had when I met Matt at a fit twenty-two.

* * *

As we entered the office my blood pressure shot up at the imminent interaction with Calvin.

Drive and hard work had gotten me where I was. After college I started work at Hamilton’s in the accounts payable department and did my CPA in my spare time. After various positions with Hamilton’s, a headhunter approached me about a job at Force McAllister, in an analyst role. It was just as my relationship with Matt ended. With perfect timing, the extra salary was what allowed me to kick Matt out. Before that I wouldn’t have been able to swing the mortgage on my condo without his contribution in rent. Though realistically, even with the pay bump I still can’t afford the mortgage.

Unfortunately my boss left two months after I started and Calvin replaced him. Calvin the nightmare. Calvin the something to prove. Calvin who was “full of ideas on how things could improve” and who “really wanted to make his mark on things.” His style of management was to criticize and complain. As a result Sam and I hated him.

Sam had been in the job for three years, long enough to start looking elsewhere. But I was stuck here until I put in some time in the role. That was, unless Calvin fired me in the meantime. He was working on it, I just knew it. He hated me from the second he laid eyes on me. No matter what I did, he gave me the lowest marks in my monthly performance reviews. Nothing I did was good enough, though he was eager enough to steal my ideas and claim them as his own. I suspected his real reason was he was threatened by me. He would be found out at any time as the incompetent boob he was, and I’d be the person who exposed him.

“Ladies, good of you to come to work today,” Calvin said in his attempt at a stern voice.

We were used to being treated like schoolgirls by him and it took a lot of effort to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Abbie, I need the WeeksEnd report by eleven o’clock.”

“Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

“I mean it, Abbie. You need to get it done now. And make sure your work isn’t sloppy like it usually is.”

I turned my head away before he could see the rage in my face. My work was not sloppy. Ever.

How was this guy married? Did he treat his wife the same dickish way? My mind wandered, envisioning what it would be like to have him pumping away on top of me. Surely there was no way he’d be in for some foreplay, it’d all be about getting the business done, efficiently and oblivious to his wife’s lack of enjoyment. I hope he did it with the lights off, for her sake. That pasty dough boy body could only be worse naked.

The rest of the day was mundane, and I looked at the clock in the corner of my computer screen more than I looked at my spreadsheet.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam said, smacking her laptop lid shut.