I can't believe it. It just...does not compute.

Why would he want someone like her when he can have someone like me? Willow is pretty in that girl next door sort of way. But she's boring. There's no spice to her, and a guy like Peter Burgett needs spice in his life.

I confessed my love to Peter, and while I honestly hadn't meant it, I did feel like there was something between us. Something more than boss and employee. I could see the potential for so much more. I refuse to believe that was all in my imagination.

I need to get down to the bottom of this, so I wait until close to the end of the day before I go to Peter's office, putting on my sweetest face as I knock on the door. He looks up from his computer like a deer in the headlights, his lips slightly parted, his expression adorable. He always looks either sexy or adorable. Mostly sexy, though. It's the way he carries himself. The suits that he wears. The authoritative voice that he uses when he speaks to his employees. He exudes confidence and wealth and sex appeal. Always looking perfect. Always acting perfect.

It's the rare times that he falters—the cracks in his perfect demeanor—when you can see something softer about him.

“Miss Palomo. Is there something I can do for you?” He takes his hands away from his keyboard and clasps them together on top of his desk, giving me his full attention.

I duck into his office, looking back out into the workroom. “Can I close the door? What I have to ask you is of a personal nature.”

He nods, and I close the door, wanting to keep our conversation private. Once the door is shut, I drop the demure act and let my natural confidence take its place. I stroll up to his desk like a cat on the prowl, one long leg in front of the other. I know he's looking at them in his peripheral vision. Men can't help but look, even when they pretend that they're not. And the shorts that I'm wearing are sooo short.

“What is this about?” He leans back in his plush office chair.

“It's about us.” I stop at his desk and trace a circle with my fingertip on top of it.

“Us?” he parrots the word as if it's foreign to him.

“You. And me,” I enunciate.

“I must say I don't understand.” He plays the oblivious card.

“There's a rumor going around that you and a certain someone in the office are having relations.” I round his desk, moving some paperwork aside to sit on the edge only a foot away from him.

He pushes his chair back, putting distance between us. “Miss Palomo—”

“Becky,” I correct him.

“Becky.” He smiles, but there's discomfort in his expression. “This is highly unprofessional.”

“You know, I've always wanted to have sex on a desk like this.” I strum my fingertips over the top of his desk before looking at him. “It's always been one of my biggest fantasies.”

“I'm dating someone else,” he says abruptly, causing me to instantly frown.

I huff. So it is true. He really wants that...

“Well, I was just coming to tell you that I want the rumor about us snuffed out.” I fall into recovery mode.

“If there is any rumor about us, I wasn't the one who started it.” He narrows his eyes at me.

I gasp, feigning innocence. “Do you really think I would tell anyone what happened between us?”

“Nothing happened between us.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Exactly. And it's going to stay that way.” I hop off of his desk, sauntering back to the door so he can get a good look at what he's missing out on.

I expect him to say something else to me, but he doesn't. As I take my leave, I can't help but feel dejected. It seems like all of the men who chase after me have nothing going for them. They're either poor losers or bad boys who are the love em' and leave em' type. Sure, losers and bad boys make good bed mates from time to time, but they're not long-term guys. With looks like mine, you'd think I'd be able to get whoever I want. That's not always the case, though. Like every girl, I want someone good and stable. I'm not in any hurry to settle down, but when I see a prize stallion walk by, I don't hesitate to try to take the reigns. That obviously doesn't always work, as this situation proves.

After returning to my desk, I stare at Willow in my peripheral vision, wondering what she has that I don't. It's not looks, and it's not personality. So what? I just can't figure it out.

As soon as work is over, I go home and eat before changing to head to the gym. A good workout should make me feel better, plus I'll get to gawk at all of the beefcakes and maybe score one for the night. Story of my life. Fanboys and one-night stands. The guys who like me that I won't sleep with end up added to my guy harem. The others are here today, gone tomorrow.

I climb onto the treadmill and prepare to burn out all of my negative energy. There are a few hotties at the gym today, and as usual, all eyes are on me. I dress the part of innocent sex kitten in my super short gym shorts and a tight tank top. Everything pink.

I'm not in the mood to prowl tonight. If one of the attractive guys is brave enough to come up and talk to me, I'll take him for a spin. If not, I'll go home alone. It's no big loss, really.

About five minutes into my run, I see Caleb come through the front door. He's wearing a muscle shirt that shows off his toned shoulders and bulging biceps. I feel something inside of me churn as I gaze upon his handsome face. That man's jawline goes on for days. And his Adam's apple is deliciously defined and suckable.

Maybe I'm friskier than I thought. Or maybe the air just changed when he walked into the gym—filled with an invisible pheromone that has my hormones on the fritz.

It was horrible of me to kick him to the curb the other day to pursue Peter. He didn't seem attainable though, so Peter became my new target. I thought he'd be more easily achievable, but I guess I was wrong.

Caleb sees me and gives me a half-hearted wave before heading to the men's locker room only to emerge a few minutes later and immediately hit the weights. I do my best to pretend he's not there, to focus on some of the viable options wandering around. But my eyes keep going back to him.

Finally, I can't resist the attraction any longer, so I power down the treadmill and walk over to him, mentally preparing myself for another rejection. He's loading the bench press up with weights, and I can tell that he's trying his best to ignore my approach.

“Is that for you or a client?” I nod to the bench.

“Me.” He doesn't even stop what he's doing to face me. “I don't have any clients tonight, and I got bored sitting at home.”

“So this is what you do when you're bored?” I giggle. “Come here to work on being the ultimate beefcake?”

“I'm far from the ultimate beefcake.” He gives me a sardonic look.

“You're bigger than most of the guys here.” I glance around the gym.

“I like to stay fit,” he replies absentmindedly.

“Well, you succeed.” I sit on the bench so that he can't ignore me, then lie down and grip the bar. It's so heavy I couldn't even hope to be able to lift it. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the weights he has it on now weigh more than I do. “Wow. You're really strong.”

“It comes with practice.” He stands over me with his hands on his hips as if he's just waiting for me to get up. I don't.

“I've thought about incorporating some weight training into my exercise routine, but I'm worried I'll get too muscular.”

He smirks before glancing away. “That's a common concern of women, but it shouldn't be.”

“Why not?” I wring my hand around the barbel before using it to help me sit up. I already know his answer, but I'll use the conversation to spend more time with him. Men like it when you talk about their interests, and working out is obviously at the top of his.

“Because you don't produce enough testosterone to get big.”

“So then what would be the point?” I continue to play stupid.

“Just to tone up a bit.” He looks down at me.

“Oh. So like, to get a six pack? I already have the beginnings of one.” I lift up my shirt so he can see my stomach.

He inhales, and the mood shifts slightly. I can tell that he finds me attractive. I just don't understand why he won't act on it.

“Would you be interested in training me?” I stand, leaving little distance between us.

Caleb averts his gaze. I can feel the nervousness radiating from him. I expect him to take a step back, but he doesn't. “I don't work for free.”

I pout. “But I thought we were friends.”

His shoulders slump, and I can tell that the good guy in him is slowly surrendering. “I'll tell you what. Show me that you're serious, and I'll think about it. Come here three times a week and hit up the thirty-minute circuit over there. Load the machines with about half of the max weight you think you can handle. If you're consistent for a month, I'll take you on for free.”

“It sounds like you're already taking me on for free.” I smile at him.

He tilts his head to the side in silent admittance. “This is just advice. Basic stuff. I won't be by your side to help you or check your form.”

“Ah. I get it.” I nod. “So, three times a week. Thirty minutes a day.”

“Yup.” Caleb sidesteps me to sit on the bench. “And do me the favor of trying to get Willow to come with you. I figure she'll eventually ask me to train her, too. I'd rather kill two birds with one stone if I'm going to do this for free.”

I frown internally, wondering why he's even bringing her up. Maybe I'm misreading it, but I see something in his eyes change when he speaks her name. His voice seems to soften, too.

Still, I keep my halfhearted enthusiasm at full beam, knowing that guys like him like happy girls.

“Of course.” I grin at him a final time, my eyes watching the muscles in his arms bulge as he grabs the bar and lifts it for his first rep, my mind instantly going to all of the naughty things I'd like to do to his sinfully delicious body.