I nibbled absently on the rubbery pizza and made the firm decision to stay away from frozen, gluten-free pizza in the future. I dropped the slice back onto the microwaveable dish. The pizza bounced like one of those elementary school pink erasers.

Squeaky wheels and a towering stack of sodas rolled into the break room as I sat back with my bottle of green tea. A handsome face peered around the tower of boxes to check for obstacles in the path leading to the vending machines.

With a disappointing lunch in front of me and a long, dull board meeting to follow, I let myself have the luxury of watching the unexpectedly hot delivery man load up the drink machine. He dragged out an impressive collection of keys from his faded jeans, a pair of nicely worn denims that wrapped perfectly around his tight ass.

He flashed a pearly white smile over his shoulder. “How’s it going?” His voice was even deeper than I’d expected.

“Well, lunch was a bust, but the entertainment is looking up.”

The man spun around and leaned casually against the machine. He leaned his dark head to the side to gaze boldly beneath the table. “Nice legs. I bet they’d look even better wrapped around me.”

I pushed the chair back, stood confidently and sashayed over to him. His scent was a mix of aftershave, man and cola. “What are you suggesting, sir?”

“Sir? I like that.” Again, he lowered his head to the side to drag his hungry stare down my body. “Lose the panties, beautiful, and let’s see if we can shake up the sodas in this machine.”

A breath caught in my throat, and a delicious ache pulsed between my legs.

“What’s your name, baby?”

“Jessi,” I said on the breath I’d been holding.

“Jessi” he repeated, but his voice was no longer deep. “Uh, Earth to Jessi.” Long, well-manicured fingers snapped in front of my face. I shook myself out of the daydream.

The delivery man was bent down into the machine filling it with cans. I wasn’t standing in front of him, breathlessly waiting for him to relieve me of my panties. About the only thing that hadn’t been my imagination was his very fine ass.

Cara, my assistant, blinked at me. “Jeez, Jess, your face is blushed pink. Something tells me I just interrupted one hell of a daydream.” Her eyes followed my sightline. “Oh my. Well that explains a lot. And it tells me that we have to find you a new man and fast. The last thing we need is the vice president of the company taking her lunch break up against the vending machines with the good looking delivery man between her legs.”

Cara, whose voice tended to carry as far and wide as dandelion seeds in a brisk wind, caught the attention of the man. He shot me a crooked, conspiratorial smile as if he’d actually taken part in my erotic musings.

I picked up the pizza and stood from the table. Cara skittered close behind, her heels clacking the slick tile floor of the break room.

“So, my all powerful and excellent boss, do you think we’ll get to move to that big corner office?”

I tossed my underwhelming lunch in the trash. “Why would we be moving offices?”

Cara huffed. “Because of the whole vice president promotion.”

I’d been so flustered by my sensual daydream, I’d forgotten all about her inane comment. “Vice President? Have you been sniffing the permanent markers again, Cara?”

We headed down the hallway toward my office.

“One time,” she protested, “and I thought it would get rid of my headache. Everyone says you’re a shoe in for V.P.. If you’d stick your head out of your office once in awhile, you’d hear the rumors that are making their way around the building and circling the water cooler.”

We reached my office, and rather than taking a seat at her desk outside, Cara followed me in, sticking to me like a koala on a eucalyptus branch.

I sat in my chair and pulled my computer monitor toward me. “Rumors? Oh well, why didn’t you say so? I mean everyone knows that rumors around the water cooler are as good as set in stone.”

She waved off my sarcasm. “Fine, don’t believe me, but I get a lot of pertinent information while I’m filling up my water bottle.”

“Right. Isn’t the water cooler the source of the conspiracy theory that Mindy the Muffin Lady was actually an undercover boss, taping a reality television show to uncover just how her employees were feeling about the company? Only it turned out she was just a nice, little woman who baked muffins. And incredible ones at that. After that terrible lunch, I could go for a banana walnut.”

“That’s right, make fun.” Cara turned to leave.

“How long until the meeting?” I asked.

“Twenty minutes. I’ll buzz you when it’s time.” She winked at me over her shoulder. “In case you drift back into one of those daydreams.”