Deep green eyes stared out at me from beneath perfectly shaped dark brows. His chiseled jaw was hidden beneath just the right amount of permanent black stubble. The gunmetal gray shoulder and chest plates only accentuated his incredible physique and daunting black metal gauntlets and spiked gloves glistened over his powerful arms and hands. He was pure hero eye candy from the top of the spiked mohawk on his head to the shit-kicker knee high boots on his feet. His trusty steed, a black stallion that transformed into a motorcycle when the terrain called for it, was being designed by Louis, the designer in the next work station.

"Ziggy Holt, you are one hot computer graphic," I muttered to myself as I surveyed the close-to-final design. I did a little happy dance at my standing computer desk. Everyone in the company had to spend at least two hours a day with their computers hoisted in the air. Stan, the boss and owner of Phantasm Game World, insisted it was necessary to avoid what he termed as "Dreaded Flat Butt Syndrome", a plague which rendered its victims unable to wear pants properly. I, for one, was happy to be provided with a standing desk. When I was a kid, my parents called me antsy pants because I could never sit still. I never grew out of it. I particularly liked to shuffle around whenever I working on a digital exoskeleton or color layer. My mom also never dropped the nickname, an embarrassing little fact I discovered when she called me antsy pants last Thanksgiving in front of all the relatives. Of course, they all had a good laugh and decided to use it instead of my real name, Jennifer, for the rest of the night.

I glanced at the time. I had a few minutes before the surprise meeting. Although, calling it a meeting was sort of an exaggeration. A team huddle, as Stan termed it, was more of a free for all where people could air grievances or brag about accomplishments. There was no real protocol in the boardroom. Phones weren't silenced, and sidebar conversations were frequent and expected. At times, there was so much chaos and noise in the 'huddle', I would actually pull out my earbuds and listen to music on my phone to drown it out. Stan didn't even care about that as long as I participated. Stan, my very sexy, rich boss, who knew damn well that he was sexy and, of course, rich, believed that the chaos nurtured creativity and team spirit. I wasn't completely convinced of his theory, but I didn't mind. It had to be better than sitting in a morgue-like boardroom with stuffy, backstabbing coworkers all trying to kiss up to the owner.

Tanya, a team artist and my best friend, skipped down to my work area. "Jen, are you still ogling Ziggy Holt? Maybe if you wish hard enough, he'll just pop off that monitor, sweep you into his metal plated arms and carry you away. You know, like Officer and a Gentleman but with a sci-fi twist."

"I do think he's mighty fine." I pushed up my sleeve to survey the tattoos on my wrist and arm. "I'm seriously thinking of getting him tattooed right here next to the star burst. Too bad guys like this don't stomp around in real life, killing off wraiths, ripping out souls and taking time in between for a good roll in the hay. Or, I guess, in Ziggy's world it would be fire and brimstone." I tilted my head to the side and stared at the three dimensional computer graphic, a graphic so lifelike he could fill a girl's mind with all kinds of dirty thoughts. "I'm still not convinced the spiky mohawk was the way to go." Tanya had been the lead artist on the Ziggy Holt character creation. She was extremely talented, and I loved being the teammate who took her drawings to the digital level. We worked well together. "I loved that cool, short cropped dark hair you had on him in the earlier sketches. I mean hair takes a bit more programming, but I for one am a big fan of the full head of hair. Besides," I lowered my voice and looked around to be sure my nosy, self-important neighbor, Ellen, wasn't in ear shot. She'd apparently left early for the meeting. "I'm not sure how that spiky mohawk would work for oral sex, if you catch my drift."

Tanya snorted a laugh and elbowed me. "C'mon, Jenny, where's your sense of adventure? Now stop having erotic daydreams about our Ziggy, and let's head over to the meeting."

"Right." I grabbed my tablet in the rare case that I needed to take notes or add to my daily planner.

Loud voices and laughter were already bubbling out the open door of the boardroom. Tanya grabbed my arm to slow my pace as we watched Jordan, the new girl from the programming team, walk out of Stan's office. She was an exceptionally pretty blonde with big boobs and a lot of talent, or at least that was what I'd heard from the people in programming.

Tanya tilted her head closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "See that blush on her cheeks as she's walking out of Stan's office? I've heard she's his newest conquest." I hated the word conquest used in the same sentence with Stan. Not that I was being judgmental because I could have cared less what Stan did, or at least that was what I kept telling myself. My biggest problem with the term was because I too had been one of his conquests. Back when I was new to the company, stupid, silly girl that I was, I got swept up in the fantasy romance of sneaking quickies after lunch with the boss. For him it had been a good time, but I'd stupidly allowed myself to fall for him. And for a time, I was delusional enough to think he'd fallen for me too. But then reality slapped me in the face, and I quickly discovered that Stanford Gregory wasn't a one woman type of guy.

The boardroom vibrated with energy as people speculated what the unscheduled meeting might be about. The last details of our newest game, Hell's Rangers, were being perfected and polished, and the artist and writing teams were already brainstorming and sketching storyboards for part two. I figured Stan's impromptu huddle had something to do with preorder numbers. Hopefully they were good.

Mitch, Shelly and Turk, our main programmers, had apparently gotten bored waiting for the meeting to start and had set up a game of some sort in the center of the table using strategically placed donuts and folded paper footballs.

Tanya grabbed us two chairs, and I headed to the pink box to see which donuts the nerds had left out of their game. Disappointment. I turned to the table. "Uh, is that my French cruller in the center of your game?"

Mitch turned back with a sheepish grin. "We needed a middle earth."

"I told you Jen would be pissed if you used the cruller." Shelly shrugged my direction. "I tried to warn them."

"Thanks for your effort."

Mitch reached for middle earth and held it up to me. Most of the white glaze had broken off. "It's a little beaten up, but I'm sure it'll still taste good."

"Not with your fingerprints all over it." I waved toward the game. "Carry on, dorks."

I spun around and almost smacked directly into Stan. He was wearing that musky aftershave that I used to love but that I now hated.

He somehow always managed to touch me, even when there was no reason for it. This time he took hold of my arm as if our near crash had thrown me off balance and he'd had to catch me. "Hey, it's my star graphic designer." His blue eyes always had a sparkle. That wasn't necessarily a good thing when it was coming from your playboy boss. "Good work, Jen." He threw a wink in with his sparkle and walked past me in a cloud of fragrance. His fingers didn't leave my arm until he was out of reach. Jerk.

I sat down next to Tanya and didn't need to say a word because we were both fairly expert at reading each other's thoughts.

"What's the old saying?" she mused. "If looks could kill?"

"I don't know why I even waste a second of emotion on the man. He doesn't even have broad shoulders. I mean, jeez, who needs that, right?"

Tanya laughed. "Well, his bank account makes up for the lack of shoulder span, but you're right. Who needs that?"

Stan clapped his hands several times to get our attention. I noticed then that his hands were far too clean and smooth. He could never be one of Hell's Rangers. There. Another reason not to waste a second of thought on the man.

The clamor in the room quieted, and all the attention turned to the front of the room. Stan's eyes swept around the table as he pulled out a chair and propped one leg on it.

I typed a quick message to Tanya on my tablet. "I think he invited us here just to admire his crotch. Joke's on him. It's not all that admirable. I'll bet Ziggy Holt is nicely hung underneath all that leather and metal." I elbowed Tanya.

She leaned over and read the tablet on my lap. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"I thought the team would like to know that we just surpassed the ten million mark on preorders for the new game."

A loud cheer rattled the tinted windows lining the room. Donuts flew through the air and high fives and fist bumps were tossed liberally around the table.

Stan lifted his hands to quiet us. As rambunctious and out of control as the huddles could get, Stan still had the ability to grab our attention in seconds. "Because of this great news, I've decided to cut short the work day so you all can go home and pack for a ski trip at Swanson's Ski Lodge."

Another round of cheers followed.

Tanya leaned closer. "That's cool. Maybe we can share a room."

"Oh, and I left out the good part—" Stan continued. "I've rented the entire lodge and ski facilities for the whole weekend. We will be the only people on the mountain."

"Holy shit." Even though she was sitting right next to me, Tanya had to raise her voice higher to be heard over the exuberance in the room. "That must have cost him a fortune," she said directly in my ear.

I turned my face to her ear to respond. "We just made him a fortune, remember? Ten million preorders. This weekend will be like pocket change to the man."

"So, all of you finish up your work so you can get on the road by noon. There's a snow storm rolling in later tonight. Not a bad one. In fact, the opposite. It'll be gone by morning, and the slopes will be covered with fresh powder. I've sent an email to everyone with the address for the lodge. See you up there." With that, he walked out with his head held high like the king of the world.