“Picture this. You’re in a bar and you see a guy across the room. He’s so hot that you imagine ripping his clothes off right there, damn the audience. But you stop yourself. Why? Because odds are you think that he’s out of your league. I’ll tell you what, he’s not. Men don’t think twice about approaching women, and even though it can be terrifying, you should do the same. I don’t know about you, but I have way more fun flirting when I’m the one who initiates. There’s a reason men like the chase: It’s fun, and you should try it.”

—How to have a Fantastic One-Night-Stand as a Successful, Independent Woman,

I pull out my phone as soon as I’m sure that Chance is out of view. I have no idea if Alice will see this since she’s working and she’s not technically allowed to have her phone at her station, but she usually does. I text her.

So the CEO is hot. Mega hot. So hot I’m literally melting into the floor. Oh, and the job is amazing. They want me to write articles on sex and dating for their website. I’m writing an article and they’re going to read it when I’m finished. I would have an office!

I’m right about the fact that she has her phone with her, because she texts back almost instantly.

OMG. YES. HOT BOSSES ARE THE BEST. Also, ummm, hello that job is perfect for you! How much does it pay?

I forgot to even ask. I was too busy making a fool of myself in front of him. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home tonight. But if he doesn’t hate this article I’m TOTALLY taking this job even though it makes no sense!

Why wouldn’t it make sense?

Because this shit doesn’t happen, Alice. People don’t just get random job offers from blogs.

EMBRACE IT. You deserve it. Now stop talking to me and write that article! Oh, and if you have the chance to send me a picture of the hottie, please do!

I send her a heart emoji and click my phone off. She’s right, I need to get on this article, even though the thought of tracking down a photo of him to send to her is really tempting. I already have the perfect vision of him my head: Sandy blonde hair pushed to the side, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to the elbows and showing off forearms that are just…gorgeous. Forearms are never something that I think of as sexy until I see good ones and then they practically make me salivate.

My mental picture pans down and shows the trim hips and waist and makes me want to find out what’s underneath. I’ve already gotten a feel, even though it was only for a couple of seconds. God, just imagining him fully clothed has me warm, and it’s leading me back to those fantasies about meeting him and having a one-night stand.

Actually…that’s perfect. I haven’t had any of those one-nighters that I would want to write about. They’re usually awkward and less fun than you imagine when you’re at the height of your tipsiness. But imagining what a night with Chance would be like? That would be fun, and I’d be able to write about it perfectly.

Despite my nerves and my continued disbelief that this is actually happening, I fall into my normal writing rhythm, and write my way through this fictional one-night stand as if it’s going to go perfectly. The fictional version of me is the awesome, badass, confident woman that I sometimes wake up feeling like. It’s the me I want to be. Hopefully it’s the me a lot of women will want to be. Chance is right, this is an article that will hit home. I would love to take home a man with confidence and know that it will be hot, fun, and perfect. It rarely ends up that way though, so anything I can do to help the ladies of the world I’ll consider a victory.

It’s a combination how-to and story about a fictional couple. The blend between the two is really working. I layer in maybe a little too much detail about the sex between this Chance and this Caroline because once I start thinking about it, I just cannot. Stop. Thinking. About. It.

I imagine the way his fingers would brush across my skin as he pushes the shirt off of my shoulders. His hands on my waist as he pulls my body against his so I can feel every hard inch of him, and the way he’d kiss me. Softly, and then deeper, pulling me in with that unbelievable gravity that he has.

The way he’d lay me out on the bed, teasing me with his mouth from my collarbone to my breasts and lower, tasting me with the same thoroughness that I imagine he uses in everything that he does. And the actual sex. My God, I can just see it, and I realize that I’ve been staring into space in this gorgeous office and now I’m wet thinking about the man who hired me.

There’s not much more to write. I read through it, blushing a little at how graphic the content is, but I think it fits with the tone of the article. Women shouldn’t have to shy away from talking about sex like we don’t like it and want it just as much as men do. I make some minor changes, edit a little until I’m completely happy with it. I’m nervous about sending it to Chance. I’m a blog writer, so I don’t spend a lot of time editing. What if it’s not good enough simply because I didn’t spend enough time on it?

I mean, it’s later in the day than I thought, going on four o’clock, but still…what if I went through all of this and he doesn’t like it after all? What if he realizes that I was using him as my inspiration? But I don’t exactly have a choice. He wants to see it, and I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to the article without a second opinion. Before I second-guess myself more, I open the email program and send it.

I sigh. I guess I go and see him now? At least to let him know that I’m done, and to ask about salary. I can’t even believe that I forgot to ask about that.

It was hard to pay attention when Chance was leading me to my office because I was so distracted by looking at his ass, so it takes me a couple of minutes before I figure out where I am and how to get back to his office. Marcy isn’t at her desk, so I just knock on the door.

Chance’s voice is muffled. “Come in.”

I push the door open, and the image of his office is just as striking the second time. “Hi,” I say.

“Hello.” Again that small amused smile. “How’s everything going?”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “I finished the article. It should be in your inbox, if you want to read it.”

“Excellent. I’ll give it a read sometime this evening. Have you given any thought to whether you’re going to say yes?”

I stare at him for a second. “You don’t want to read the article first to make sure I can do what you’re looking for?”

“No,” he says. “I told you earlier that I’d already made up my mind. If I have any thoughts on changes to the article I’ll let you know, but I don’t have any doubts about its quality.” I shake my head, and he raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You probably looked into me before you offered me this job, right?”

He inclines his head. “We did.”

“So you saw my job history.” I sit in the chair I almost knocked over this morning. “It’s not the best, and certainly doesn’t paint a good picture of me. Why on earth would you offer a job to someone like that? Especially when you’d never met me? I’m sorry that I keep questioning it. It just seems like something that’s too good to be true. And too good to be true never happens to me.”

Chance leans forward on his desk, suddenly even more engaged with a fire in his eyes. “People are good at different things,” he says. “I don’t believe that there’s anyone in this world that doesn’t have something that they can excel at. I don’t give a damn that you weren’t cut out for the jobs you had before. Your blog has been successful and you clearly have a knack for writing engaging content. Since that’s exactly what I’m looking for, why would anything else matter?”

Wow. That…actually makes sense. “When you put it that way, it makes sense.”

“Good. Now are you going to say yes?”

I laugh. “I was planning on it. Even though I forgot to ask about how much it pays.”

“Here.” Chance picks up a folder on his desk and hands it to me. “This is an employment contract. All the details of your salary and benefits are inside. I’d like it if you signed before you left today, but I’ll also accept if you need the night to think it over.”

I take the folder. “You really want me to say yes.”

“Yes I do, because I think you’re talented. But I also don’t like hearing the word no when it comes to business.”

A laugh escapes me. “That probably doesn’t make you very popular.”

“No, but it does make me successful.”

I can’t argue that point, given the office that we’re currently sitting in.

Opening the folder, I glance at the top sheet which summarizes what’s in the document in further detail, and my jaw drops—fully drops—when it gets to the salary. “You’re joking.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“You can’t pay me this much for just…writing.”

Chance smirks again. “Of course I can. Your work is going to be highly visible within the company. You’re going to be the brand new voice of Heart Makers, and you deserve to be paid for that. Granted, you’ll also see that there’s an exclusivity clause. You’re being compensated highly so that you don’t lose money from not having the ability to write for other publications. Of course you can still update your blog. In fact, I encourage it, even though I don’t want you to go on anymore bad dates. It sounds like you’ve been on more than enough.”

I start to flip through the contract. There’s a lot of legalese, and even though my instinct says that I can trust Chance, it’s not so short that I can read it while I’m sitting here. I do want this though. “I want to accept,” I say. “But I hope you’ll understand if I take this contract home to read and come back in the morning to sign it.”

He smiles again. “I do understand. It’s good that you want to read it. Smart.”

“Okay then.” Relief flows through me. “So I guess I’ll see you in the morning? Boss?”

Chance gives me a long, serious look. So long that I start to worry that I said something wrong. “You certainly will,” he finally says, and a perfect little shiver runs across my skin. That voice—I’m going to dream about it all night.

“Okay,” I say, standing. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Caroline.”