Page 28 of Not Safe For Work

“I could probably outrun you any day of the week.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but I can run faster scared than you can mad.”

I laughed and shook my head. Mercifully, they didn’t try to pry my weekend out of me. Of course they had no reason to suspect I’d been with anyone specific, so I was just being paranoid for no reason.

No one knows. No one will know. Get a grip and get to work.

Once I’d caught up on my e-mail, I moved to the table where I worked on models. The one I had in progress right now was a relatively simple one. A basic 3D representation of one of three luxury hotels Rick was building on a piece of prime oceanfront property. Between distraction and fatigue, I couldn’t even focus on that. The pieces that needed to be put into place were already cut, painted and piled neatly at the edge of the platform, and despite the drawing sitting right there in front of me, hell if I could remember what I’d intended to do with them.

My brain was fucking toast. It usually took me a few minutes to get back in the groove after a few hours or days away from a model, but this time, I could barely remember which end of the X-ACTO knife to hold.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. The weekend had its own dot on my timeline now. Everything existed as either before or after. The model in front of me was from before, and it was in no hurry to cross the divide into after. Concentration wasn’t going to come easy today, and no amount of coffee was going to fix that.

Christ, McNeill. Get it together.

Like that would happen any time soon. Especially not with a Horizon Developing meeting coming up this afternoon. God help me.

It wasn’t like a one-night stand whose awkwardness could be euthanized by the purr of a taxi’s engine. We still had to work together—sort of—and we’d still slept together. This wasn’t over, which was good. And bad. And really good. And kind of bad. We’d shown our kinky sides. Rick wanted to be bound, gagged, fucked, tormented. Not just once, but over and over, and I couldn’t wait to—

“Hey, who let the zombie in?” Teagan’s voice made me jump. Raising a triple-pierced eyebrow, she eyed me over the half-constructed roof of a proposed shopping center. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

“What’d you do, McNeill?” Cal smirked. “Get laid or something?”

“Yes, Cal,” I said with mock exasperation. “Your mom wouldn’t leave me alone, so I finally broke down and—”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Come on, fess up,” Teagan said.

I flipped her the bird, and she snickered. I knew that sound—I’ll get the truth out of you sooner or later.

“Well, now that you’re back from the Twilight Zone,” Scott said, “we need you to clear something up for us.”

“Does it involve Calvin’s mom and her baby-oil fetish?”

“Shut up, McNeill,” came the growl from behind Cal’s computer.

Scott laughed. “I sure as hell hope not.”

“Okay, so what’s it about?” I asked.

Teagan stood up from leaning over her model and gingerly rubbed her lower back. “Cal and Bianca are convinced the G-spot is just a myth.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“I think it’s like the emperor’s new clothes.” Bianca glanced up from whatever drawing she was working on. “Everyone knows it doesn’t exist, but no one wants to be the first to admit it.”

“And I think,” Teagan said, “that Bianca’s boyfriend needs a lesson or two in pleasing a woman.”

Bianca snorted. “Hardly. He does just fine, thank you.”

“Not if he hasn’t found your damned G-spot, he hasn’t,” I said.

“What?” Cal scoffed. “You buy into that whole thing too?”

“Of course I do.” I moved back to my desk, since I wasn’t getting anywhere on my model.

Bianca eyed me skeptically. “And you’ve probably seen the Loch Ness Monster too, haven’t you?”