One Shot

One Shot

Rowan McBride

One Shot Copyright © October 2009 by Rowan McBride All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. ISBN 978-1-60737-439-8 Available in PDF, HTML, Microsoft Reader, and Mobi Editor: Raven McKnight Cover Artist: P. L. Nunn Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC 870 Market St, Suite 1201 San Francisco CA 94102-2907 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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About this Title Genre: LGBT Erotic Contemporary Nick Carlyle understands the intricacies of his job better than anyone. He lives to crunch those numbers and his skills are valued throughout the company. If his personal life might be lacking, he doesn't notice, especially whenever he steals a harmless glance or two at Riley Jameson's tight body. When a universal flu shot is developed, it's hailed as a miracle, and rightly so. But the seemingly harmless side-effects begin to change the world, warping the statistics that Nick's always used to guide him through life. No one changes as much as Riley. Suddenly the young man is bigger, stronger. He's also aggressive in ways Nick isn't prepared for, and for the first time analyzing the numbers does nothing to help the situation. And if numbers can't help him, what can? Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices.

One Shot “Mr. Carlyle, I e-mailed those numbers you wanted.” I glanced up and raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the office knew I checked my in-box compulsively. Why tell me the figures I needed had been sent? “Thanks, Riley. I'll look at them as soon as I get a chance.” Riley Jameson stood in my doorway, tapping a quick pattern on the frame with his fingers. Was he hinting at me to check the numbers right now? I liked Riley, but I couldn't let him think he had some special claim on my schedule. “Is there something else?” His body started. “No, Mr. Carlyle.” He seemed a bit lost. Maybe he was the one who needed the hint. “That will be all, then,” I said gently. Riley's graceful fingers paused on the frame. “Right,” he murmured, spinning around and leaving my office. Tilting my head to the side, I stole a look at his rounded ass as it pushed against the seat of his slacks. As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, I let a slow grin curve my mouth. Man, I knew it was so very wrong—he was a subordinate on my team!— but he was beautiful. Brown hair, hazel eyes. He was a hair under five feet eight, putting him four inches shorter than me, but he had that lean runner's build that made him look much taller. And he was twenty-three years old. Only four years younger, which made him one of the few employees on this floor close to my age.

2

Rowan McBride

Every once in a while, I walked down the halls and caught a snip of a conversation where somebody was calling me “kid.” Not from people I had personally worked with and certainly not from anyone on my team. Still, I was hoping Riley's presence would silence those anonymous whispers. I hadn't hired him, but there were times I viewed him as a personal present to me. I didn't even mind the mistakes that kept cropping up in his work—he was new, and everyone had to start somewhere. Sighing, I returned my attention to my computer screen. I'd been reading an article on the Internet that fascinated and scared the hell out of me at the same time. Distribution of Omnifluvac had begun. A synthetic flu vaccine that targeted specific proteins within the cell common across all forms of the virus, it was highly effective against not only one strain of flu, but every known strain of flu in existence. From the previous articles I'd read, it looked like it had the potential to send influenza down the path of measles or polio. Amazing, really. But there were some bizarre side effects. Fifty percent of people who took the shot gained an average of five inches in height. The growth was remarkably consistent, with only a few outliers topping out at seven inches and a few gaining only three inches. My lips parted as I clicked to the next page. People were flocking to get the shot, and that was understandable. The growth wasn't dangerous to the individual's health, and who wouldn't want to have a little extra height along with a lifetime immunity to the flu? But, God, that other side effect… Of all the people inoculated, 0.5 percent lost an average of three inches. Same consistency as with the gain—outliers were four inches at most, one inch at the bottom end of the spectrum. Again, no deterioration of overall health, and “only” 0.5 percent of patients lost height, so it was deemed an acceptable risk.

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My hand actually trembled on my mouse as I read that line. I liked being six feet flat. Being taller than most of the men in my office felt damned good. And whether people wanted to believe it or not, men six feet and over earned nearly 3 percent more than men who measured under that mark. Statistics didn't lie. Bottom line, I didn't want to risk losing the height I had. And I was young—I didn't really need a flu shot, right? Right. I closed the browser window and switched to e-mail. The height gain was probably exaggerated, anyway.

***** “Mr. Carlyle?” I glanced to the side, surprised because I'd just stepped off the elevator, lunch in hand. “Yes, Riley?” He jerked a thumb at his monitor. “I'm putting together a new spreadsheet, and I wanted to know what you thought of it.” “Sure.” My stomach grumbled in protest, but I ignored it as I walked past a row of cubicles to get to his. Scanning the spreadsheet on his screen, I let those numbers wash over me. The general noise of the office faded as my mind focused on the columns and rows, the sorting methods he used, and the bottom lines. Something screwed with the harmony of it all, and I homed in on it, thinking. “Your results are incorrect. Here.” I pointed to the second column, then the third. “And here.” Riley frowned. “Really?” He should have tested this sheet with figures he already knew. Rookie mistake. “Pull up your code.” A few clicks and it was on the monitor. I leaned on his desk and scrolled through, trying not to notice how nice his arms looked, hugged by the sleeves of his polo shirt. I loved business casual dress. One of these days I might actually take advantage of it and wear something other than a suit to work.

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Knowing the moment couldn't last forever, I flicked a section of the screen with my fingers. “There. That's where you have to clean it up.” “How?” “Figure it out. The rest of your code is good, so you'll catch it soon, I'm sure.” Frowning, he tapped his pen against his desk as he studied the screen. I watched him a moment, something about that rhythm tugging at my mind. My gaze drifted to his wrist, and I noticed he was wearing a new watch. Leather band, gold trim on the face. Cartier. At his salary, it had to be a knockoff, but I'd never seen one so perfect before. How many points would I lose as his boss if I asked him where he'd picked it up? I'd almost worked up the nerve to try, when I caught sight of the Band-Aid on his upper arm. “Mr. Carlyle?” Straightening, I grinned, hoping the expression covered the moment of disquiet that had flashed through me. “Let me know when you're done,” I told him as I headed for my office. My stomach rumbled again, but thankfully it was out of Riley's earshot. “Giving the new kid help?” Greg Morris, my peer from the development expense department, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He was around ten years older than me, and although we had somewhat different work philosophies, I looked up to him, and he seemed to like me well enough. “A little,” I said, studying his suit like I always did. Even with knockoffs, Riley had good taste, but Greg was in a league of his own. He always knew just how to accent his dark eyes and hair, and I'd yet to figure out how to parlay that into my own coloring. I had brown hair and eyes, so given Greg's style, I should wear a brown suit, but I didn't really like brown suits— “Think that's wise?”

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Damn, I'd lost the thread of the conversation. Oh, yeah. Helping Riley. “Why wouldn't it be?” “Harvard whiz kid, fresh from school. Everyone thinks he's hot shit. Aren't you worried he'll show you up?” I never understood attitudes like that. Sure, I didn't go to an Ivy League school, but I was good. And if a member of my team did well, it only helped the company. “Not worried about that at all.” Greg shrugged and straightened away from the wall. “If I were you, I'd be more concerned about your job.” Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I politely thanked him for the advice and went into my office. When it came to figures and stats, I was a fucking savant. Consolidating over two hundred million dollars in engineering expenses across twenty countries wasn't work for me. It was fun. No one was taking my job, and at the moment I was more distracted by the Band-Aid I'd seen on Riley's arm. I'd seen similar ones on most of the people in the building. Right after they'd come back from their flu shots.

***** I bumped into someone and turned my head. “Sorry about that,” I murmured, tilting my face up. A man I didn't recognize grinned down at me. “No problem.” Had he always been tall? Or had he gotten inoculated? Uncomfortable, I hurried to catch the elevator. After I hit the button to my floor and edged to the back of the box, I watched as more people crammed themselves in, staring at the heads that inched up past mine. The world had changed around me in the last few months. Everyone who was inoculated with Omnifluvac and experienced the growth aspect of the shot reacted differently. Some grew over the course of weeks, others in a matter of days.

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Days. Logically, I knew the numbers weren't right, but the people who shot up quickly made it feel as if half of the population was shooting up around me. It was…scary. A man well over six feet strode into the elevator just before the doors closed. He didn't have to make room for himself—the people around him simply squeezed themselves deeper into corners, against walls. I doubted any of them realized what they were doing. Had I been like that? I didn't think so, but it was hard to be sure, given how automatically this person had asserted his power just now. I might have walked into any number of tight spaces and not noticed as people made room for me. Today I'd neither taken another person's space nor given up my own. As faint, bland music cascaded over us and the elevator bell dinged for each floor, I wondered what that meant. Where did I stand? “Hey, Mr. Carlyle.” My head whipped to the side, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Riley looking at me eye-to-eye. Shit. Since when could he level my gaze? “H-hello, Riley,” I said, trying to straighten my posture. It didn't work. We were still the same size. The corner of his mouth lifted. “How are you doing?” If Riley was beautiful before, I didn't know what the hell to call him now. A lot of the people who'd grown as a result of the shot seemed to burn fat as they grew taller. They looked lean as a result, even lanky. But while the man at my side was perfectly in proportion, he also seemed… I don't know how to describe it. A bit thicker, maybe. And his skin seemed smoother, tanner. Even his eyes seemed brighter.

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“I'm fine,” I told him, my voice calm as I prayed silently I wasn't blushing. He stretched his arms over his head, snapping my gaze to the hard lines in his triceps, the strong cords in his forearms. Even his hands looked bigger, his long fingers stretching toward the ceiling as his watch caught the light and flashed gold. “It's been crazy lately, with quarter close and everything. Don't you think?” My mouth went dry and I wanted to swallow, but I was afraid he'd see it. “No more than usual.” Riley's grin pulled wider as he linked his hands behind his head. “Figured you'd say that.” He glanced at me. “You're always good under pressure. Does anything shake you up?” Before I could stop it, I'd taken a half step away from him. Those eyes were confident, focused. They were teasing and…predatory? “You'd be surprised.” A bell dinged, and the elevator door opened to our floor. Riley dropped his arms, looking me up and down. “Doubt that,” he said, walking out of the box. I blew out a harsh breath—I hadn't even realized I'd been holding it—and stumbled out of the elevator. Someone grabbed my arms and steadied me. “Whoa there, partner.” I glanced up, standing straight when I saw Greg holding me. We used to be the same height, but the three inches he'd gained had me staring at his mouth. “Thanks,” I said, using one of my hands to smooth down my jacket. “Little clumsy today.” Greg chucked my chin. “Watch your step—wouldn't want the star of global consolidation laid up in the hospital at quarter close.” He was touching me a lot more lately, and it jarred me in ways I didn't understand. Greg was a nice guy. To me, anyway. “Will do.” With my head bowed, I started to walk past him. “Nick.”

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I paused, reluctantly looked up at him. “Yes?” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk? In your office?” My hand tightened on my briefcase handle, but I nodded and let him follow me. Once in my office, I began to feel better, slipping into my routine of taking my laptop out of its case and powering it up, turning on the coffee machine, checking the voice mail light and finding it—as usual—blinking a steady red. Finally, I took a seat, glancing at Greg sitting comfortably across from me. “What can I do for you?” “Have you gotten a flu shot?” he asked point-blank. “The new one. Omnifluvac.” I blinked at him. “I don't think that's any of your business, Greg.” “So you have, and you're embarrassed to admit you didn't grow.” “That's not—” My mouth snapped shut, but it was too late. I'd fallen right into the trap. I always did suck at mind games. Grinning, Greg leaned forward. “Just go and get the damned shot. Trust me, I've been in this business a lot longer than you, and it's for your own good.” My hands twitched, and I struggled not to clench them into fists. “I haven't had the flu since I was a kid.” “That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. Simple human nature is going to play into this, just like it plays into everything else.” I thought about the sense of unease I'd experienced in the elevator. The changes in my own behavior. Even Riley… “This fascination with the shot is just a temporary anomaly,” I bluffed. “People experiencing something new and exploring it. But things will settle before it has any impact on my job.”

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“Come on, Nick. This isn't new or temporary.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “The stats back me on this.” I stilled, knowing how smart he was, knowing he could cite anything he'd ever read from memory. “How?” “Very attractive men earn more than average-looking men with the same qualifications, don't they?” My brow furrowed. “Five percent.” “And plain men earn less than those considered average?” This…was not going to end with a favorable conclusion. “Ten percent.” Greg's voice dipped, slid past my defenses. “What is the most significant factor in determining the level of a man's attractiveness?” “Physical symmetry.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Then height,” I admitted reluctantly. “You're in the top bracket now, but it's a relative scale. Human nature never changes, and neither will the numbers.” “Hold on now.” I lifted a finger. “Those statistics only apply to people who share the same skill sets. There's no one quite like me in this company.” His face softened. “True, but you should take every advantage you can get.” In his own way, Greg had always looked out for me. It was only because we had that bond that I asked my next questions. “How does it feel to grow? Does it hurt?” “It doesn't feel like anything, really,” he said, shrugging. “You're a little off from the change in perspective for a bit, but all the while your body is adapting, so you barely feel the actual growth. Truthfully I thought it would be more interesting than it turned out to be.”

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10

I'd read as much online. Skin, bones, organs, muscles. Continuously adapting to accommodate the changes. So far, no one had reported physical pain. One in two chance of growth. One in two hundred chance of shrinking. Odds were good, but nowhere near a sure thing. “I'm going to pass.” He sighed. “We both know that you're the best at what you do. But appearances play a lot in any business. It's harder for the higher-ups to trust their money to a little guy who doesn't look like he can hold his own.” “I'm not short,” I gritted out. Just inching toward average. Greg's face usually held a note of teasing, no matter what he was talking about. All that was gone as he rose to his feet. “Get the shot, Nick. I see that kid outside your office. He's poised to topple you, and he's going to have fun doing it.” I remembered the predatory look in Riley's eyes and suppressed a tremor. “My work speaks for itself,” I said, more to myself than to him. Greg headed out of the office. “If you say so.” When the door shut behind him, I let my head drop back against my chair. “I do say so,” I whispered. Because it was the only thing I could say.

***** Setting an elbow on my desk, I propped my temple against my fist and stared out the window. The city was pretty at night, and the quiet of the building let me relax for the first time in hours. I never got tired of this view. Hard to believe that the world out there was so different from a few months ago. My gaze touched on my reflection and flicked away, but not before I'd registered that one of my eyebrows was slightly higher than the other, making my face asymmetrical.

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Which definitely bumped me out of the “very attractive” category. “Appearances don't mean that much,” I whispered. Yeah, right. Every time I left the office, I expected to come back to a letter on my desk telling me my salary had been cut by 3 percent. Three percent, because if my looks were midlevel, then height was the only thing setting me apart. Stop it. They wouldn't do that to you. But stats didn't lie. They didn't let emotions or dreams get in the way of rational conclusions. That's why I could trust them more than I could trust myself. It wouldn't happen right away—with a note on my desk—but bit by bit, my raises would decrease proportionately. Then the numbers would bear out. Up until now, I'd been rising to the top of the company with dizzying speed, but my momentum would slow. Yeah, I had talent, but I didn't have much charisma. Once I physically began to blend in with everyone else, I doubted anyone would notice me. I'd be “that support guy.” Someone's righthand man. Maybe Greg's. The idea made me shudder. I'd worked under him for a while, and it had been a good experience, but it would be a step backward. Maybe Riley's. I chuckled. The scenery would be nicer, but that was a slow death too. I wanted to be my own man. “Mr. Carlyle? What are you doing here so late?” I glanced up. Speak of the devil. “I have a meeting with the Beijing office at two p.m. their time.” He frowned, leaning a forearm near the top of the doorjamb above his head. Six-three, six-four. His growth had topped five inches and would probably hit the max of seven. “Beijing?” he asked. “I didn't catch any memos about a meeting with China.”

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“It's…” I paused, trying to find the right way to explain it. “It's personal. They asked me to help streamline their sales expense team.” “Is that in your job description?” Why? You trying to decide if you want the responsibility? “It's a favor.” “A favor? Isn't it Saturday over there? Why couldn't they meet with you earlier?” My mouth crooked. He sounded as if working over the weekend were a crime. I wondered if he even knew I spent most of my Saturdays in this office. A lot of my Sundays too. “Because I had my own work to do. This was the only time we could coordinate.” “Why would you go through all that trouble?” Was my business philosophy really that strange? “Because if the Beijing office runs smoother, then our office runs smoother in the long run.” The hand near the top of the door frame curled into a loose fist. “Oh.” My gaze flicked to that fist, and I felt my own body tense. The touch of fear disgusted me, especially when I heard Greg's words ringing in my ears. “It's harder for the higher-ups to trust their money to a little guy who doesn't look like he can hold his own.” “What are you doing here, Riley?” I asked, an edge to my voice. He looked totally unfazed by my tone. As if he couldn't even conceive of me as any sort of threat. “Forgot my phone. Going to need it, since I have a lot of places to be this weekend.” A social life. Of course. For the first time, I wondered if he had a girlfriend. With a body like that, he probably had several. “Have fun.” Riley stared at me a moment before pulling out his phone and glancing at the screen. “When will it be two in Beijing?” “In just under three hours.” Surprise flickered over his face. “You're just going to sit here till then?”

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It had been a long day, and his questions were starting to wear on me. “I was actually thinking of taking a short nap.” I nodded toward the couch. “Sleeping here in the middle of the night?” A wicked grin shaped his mouth as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “You're not scared?” I stiffened. “Of what?” Grabbing both sides of the door frame, he leaned into the office, bringing attention to the power of his broad shoulders, the swell of his pecs as they pushed against his shirt. “Of being molested.” The sound of that husky voice sent a shiver through me. I hoped he didn't see it, but the look in his eyes told me otherwise. “Of course not.” “You sure?” He leaned a little deeper, his gaze roving over me. “Looks to me like you could use a little support tonight.” This had to stop. It was unacceptable to let a subordinate insinuate I couldn't take care of myself! “Can you speak Mandarin?” Riley's back shot straight. “No, but I—” “Then no, there's nothing you can do for me tonight. Whenever your weekend plans are resolved, I suggest you buckle down on those assignments I've given you so they're done on time. That's how you can help me.” Both of his hands clenched into fists, but I was running on enough of an adrenaline high that it didn't affect me. “Fine,” muttered Riley, turning abruptly and stalking away from my office. In the quiet, I heard the ding of the elevator down the hall and knew he was gone. Before I had a chance to be relieved, a business IM popped up on my screen. The Beijing office, letting me know that they'd been able to clear their schedule and could start the meeting now if it would be more convenient for me. I took a calming breath, ran a hand through my hair, and turned on the webcam.

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Yao Yuyuan, leader of the Beijing sales expense team, appeared on the screen and bowed his head. “Carlyle xiānshēng, ni hao ma?” I smiled. “Wo hen hao. Ni ne?”

***** Shit! Glancing at my watch for the fifth time, I hurried to the elevator, barely restraining myself from bouncing on my heels as it rose to the ninth floor. Department photos were being taken today for the company face book, and I'd totally forgotten. Didn't look good, a team leader being late. The bell dinged, and the doors opened. I bolted for the break room and skidded to a halt just before I collided with the door. My hand on the knob, I forced my breath steady and took a second to look over my clothes, making sure my zipper was up and nothing was untucked. I hated picture day. I always felt as if I were back in high school and no one would tell me about my cowlick until it was too late. Get ahold of yourself. You're a grown-up now. Smoothing down my hair, I opened the door and strode inside. “Sorry I'm late,” I said calmly, looking around at the cleared room, the gray backdrop set up against one of the walls. The six members of my team stood in front of the backdrop, and I raised two fingers in a sort of half wave I saved for those moments when I wanted to look cool but friendly. The photographer straightened away from his camera. “Not a problem, Mr. Carlyle. Just getting everyone arranged.” When he said my name, I remembered he'd taken our pictures last year as well. “Thank you, Shawn.” I took a place next to Melanie Watson. She'd also grown but seemed to be holding steady at five-nine. Unable to help myself, I grinned. “Hello, Melanie. I've had a chance to look over the Henderson project. You did some impressive work there.”

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She smiled brightly. “Thanks, Nick!” Melanie was the only one of my subordinates who could get away with calling me by my first name. She'd already been working in global consolidation when I'd taken the reins, and without her insight I'd never have gotten up to speed as fast as I had. Her experience was invaluable, and I was grateful to have her talent on my team. “There's a particularly complex project I could use your help on, so drop by my office later, and we'll—” “Hey, Shawn.” My stomach lurched at the sound of Riley's voice. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed deeper than it had on Friday. The photographer glanced up. “Yeah, Riley?” “Don't you think, as team leader, Mr. Carlyle should stand in the center of the group?” My eyes rounded, but somehow my voice stayed level. “Actually, I think it's more appropriate for me to stand at the head of the line, don't you?” Shawn bit on his thumbnail, looking back and forth. “No, I think Riley has a good idea. Having you in the middle makes more sense.” I didn't have to look to know that being in the middle would put me right next to Riley. By now he must know how his presence bothered me, so why torture me like this? Because of the way I'd treated him Friday night? Determined not to let the rest of the team smell my fear, I slid a hand into my pocket and walked to the center of the line. “How's this?” I asked, turning to face the camera. “Looking good,” said Shawn. “If everyone could squeeze a little closer, I think it would be better.” Riley's body bumped mine, and I reflexively glanced to the side. I really, really wished I had better reflexes.

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“Sorry about that, Mr. Carlyle,” he said, his playful eyes focused completely on mine. “I can move behind you a bit to make sure I don't block you from view, if you want.” I stared at his full, smooth lips. I hadn't been able to tell Friday, but seeing him at this angle definitely meant he was six-three now. “You're not that tall,” I murmured, with less force than I'd intended. I couldn't help it—my gaze was locked onto his mouth, and against my will I was wondering how it might taste. Like peppermint, probably. I could smell a trace of it on his breath. All I had to do was push myself up a little on my toes and we'd be… His little half smile pulled into a full smirk. “You don't think so?” Which was when I noticed he'd been leaning down to speak to me. Riley straightened, and my lips parted when I looked directly at his Adam's apple. Holy shit. The breath skittered in my chest when my fevered mind calculated him at six feet seven, and I couldn't say anything as I tilted my head back to look into his eyes. “Don't worry, Mr. Carlyle.” Riley turned his head, looking at the camera. “I'll make sure you don't get lost in this photo.” Moving stiffly, I faced the camera. I'm sure the first two pictures clearly showed my alarm, but thankfully Shawn took several before he was happy. I even managed half a smile in one of them, and I prayed it came off as assertive and dignified. Shawn thanked us, signaling that the photo session was over. I strode straight for the door. “Mr. Carlyle,” called Riley, grabbing hold of my arm and turning me around. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Y-yes?”

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His eyebrows lifted. “I finished those projects you assigned. They're waiting for you in the test database.” He'd finished them already? “Thanks. I'll look them over today.” Riley grinned and released me. “Cool.” Cool? I was used to Melanie's casual language with me—we were closer to coworkers than leader and subordinate—but lately other members of my team had been easing in that direction as well. Did that mean everyone would be calling me by my first name soon? Was that…all right? Disconcerted, unsure how to respond to Riley, I gave him a nod and returned to my office.

***** “You have to do them over.” Sitting on the other side of my desk, Riley frowned. “What?” I glanced at the three windows tiled on my laptop screen and shook my head. “These figures don't add up, and they're simple mistakes. You have one item on all three spreadsheets that comes to different conclusions. It's sloppy work, Riley.” He stiffened, sending a ripple of tension through his muscles. “You said you wanted them fast.” “I didn't think I had to specify that I wanted them accurate as well.” Riley began to scowl, but then his face cleared as he leaned back in the chair. “What do I have to do?” he asked politely, more subdued than I'd seen him in weeks. Thrown by his change in attitude, I checked the date on my watch. “I don't need these specs until Friday, so comb through your sheets and get them back to me by Wednesday. If they're not right by then…” I blew out a slow breath, squeezing my eyes shut as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I'll do them myself.” “Why don't we just do them together?”

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My head shot up. “What?” Still lounging in his chair, he stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles. The motion accented the length of his body, the elegance of his muscles. “You and me together. Like that thing you're doing with Melanie. Wouldn't that be easier?” I started to answer. Then my gaze darted to my screen. “What is it?” asked Riley, leaning forward. “Something wrong?” I had a plug-in on my computer that searched out articles on Omnifluvac and sent me links to them in real time. Currently my machine was going crazy with updates, the icon in the corner of the desktop spinning furiously. What the hell? “Mr. Carlyle?” “We can't do the projects together,” I said distractedly, still staring at my screen. “You'll have to hone your creative problem-solving skills if you're going to…” My voice trailed as the icon spun faster. “Going to what?” I glanced at him, startled by his beauty. Those bright hazel eyes caught my full attention. “If you're going to advance within the company.” He grinned. “You really think I have what it takes to get ahead?” All at once, I was inexplicably sad, and I struggled to keep the emotion from my face. “Yes, Riley. You have it all.” His smile faded as he tilted his head to the side. “Mr.—” A flicker on my screen drew my attention, and my eyes widened when I saw the icon had split in two. That only happened when the number of headlines had broken one thousand. “Riley,” I said softly, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, “I have to cut our meeting short.” I looked at him again. “Tell me the truth—do you think you can get these projects to me by Wednesday? Can I count on you?”

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He rose to his feet. Powerful. Graceful. “Sure thing.” His dazzling smile returned full force. “Catch you later.” I swallowed, nodded. As soon as he was out of the office, I right-clicked on the first madly spinning icon and selected the top, most-viewed headlines. The warmth drained from my body as I read them.

NEW SIDE EFFECT DISCOVERED IN FLU SHOT RARE SIDE EFFECT EMERGING WITH FLU SHOT NEW DEVELOPMENTS IN 0.0014 PERCENT OF OMNIFLUVAC PATIENTS

My hand shaking, I clicked on the first headline.

***** Trying to block out the chorus of giggles down the hall, I pinned a nondescript sheet of paper to the main bulletin board. Weirdly enough, not everyone checked their e-mail several times a day, so I'd had to make sure a low-tech alternative was up.

BASIC EXCEL TECHNIQUES SEMINAR TAUGHT BY NICK CARLYLE CONFERENCE ROOM 801 JANUARY 10th, 9 a.m. A LAPTOP WILL BE HELPFUL BUT NOT NECESSARY.

I couldn't believe I was teaching a class. On Excel. Would anyone even show up?

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Probably not, but at least it was something to put on my résumé. After double-checking the date and time, I headed back to my office, unable to keep myself from glancing at the crowd of people around Riley. “How does it feel?” asked Melanie, leaning on his desk. Riley grinned, an arm slung over the back of his chair. “Fucking fantastic.” “I wouldn't have believed it was possible if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.” Jeff Fehn, another member of my team, shook his head in awe. “You look huge, man.” That he did. I paused, standing close to the wall to fade into the background. Riley must have put on ten pounds in the last week, all of it muscle. His pecs were pushing hard against his polo shirt. His shoulders were stretching it in a totally different direction. His pants legs hugged his quads, while the cuffs rode a bit high on his ankles. I crossed my arms over my chest, shaking my head. Riley Jameson was experiencing the rarest side effect of Omnifluvac. Muscle growth. Not the subtle strengthening and toning I'd noticed in other Omnifluvac patients who'd gained height. This was— Jeff leaned closer to Riley, partially blocking my view of him. “So tell us the truth. How easy is it for you to pack on the size now?” “Man.” Riley swept a hand over his shelf of a chest. “They said something about my body being hypersensitive to resistance for a while and that the growth will taper off eventually, but right now breathing is building muscle.” Some of the women cooed. Some of the men too. A woman I'd never seen before edged closer. Where was she from? One of the other floors? “That's just amazing,” she breathed. “Yep,” said Riley. “And the wild thing is, working one muscle works all my muscles. Watch.” He leaned over his keyboard and did some rapid-fire typing.

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The cords in his forearms undulated as his fingers moved; then the ripple traveled up his arms, making his biceps and triceps twitch. His pecs jumped faintly. His stomach tightened. Each of the distinct muscles along his thighs leaped with power. Even the bulge at the front of his slacks swelled. Pleasure or actual growth, I couldn't tell. He pulled his hands away from the computer, lounging back in his chair. “See? You can barely tell I'm bigger from that little bit, but my clothes feel a hair tighter.” Perfectly symmetrical growth. My breath caught; my stomach clenched. What were the odds that Riley would experience this side effect? Oh, right. One-point-four in a hundred thousand. Riley's gaze hit mine, making my entire body jerk in surprise. “Pretty cool, huh?” he said, winking at me. Thankfully, the crowd around him enthusiastically agreed, assuming he was speaking to them. I took the opportunity to bolt. And ran right into Greg Morris. He cupped my shoulders with his hands, steadying me. “Where's the fire?” My head tilted back, and I nearly blurted out the truth, but thank God I hadn't lost all sense. “Just needing to get some work done.” “Hmm.” He glanced at Riley over my head and returned his gaze to me. “Don't see how you can get anything done, with the whiz kid bringing people from all over the building to his desk.” I stepped out of his hold and looked over my shoulder. “I don't think he's doing it on purpose. It's just a hell of a thing, what's happened to him.” Greg gently touched my jaw, drawing my attention. “You don't think he's screwing with you?”

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I did. Riley was testing his boundaries, and I was his boss, so it was only natural that some of that push would be directed at me. And given that I hadn't exactly made this year easy for him… “He's not,” I murmured. “Nick, come on. If I can see it, everyone can see it.” Everyone? “I can handle it,” I told him, but even I could hear the tremor in my voice. He stared at me a long moment. “That promotion I've been ducking for the past year finally hit me.” Glad to have something else to talk about, I broke into a genuine smile. “Congratulations!” He grinned back at me. “Thanks.” Greg sounded almost bored with the prospect of advancement, but I knew how brilliant he could be, and I knew he deserved this. “When do you start?” “In a few weeks.” Placing a hand between my shoulder blades, he guided me farther away from the crowd behind us. “I was thinking maybe you could transfer to my department, head that one up instead.” My eyes widened. “Lead the development expense team? Really?” “Sure. You do a lot of work for us already, so you know how we operate. Can't think of a better replacement. And it would get you away from”—his gaze flicked in Riley's direction—“that.” Leave global consolidation? True, I got bored easily and tended to help out other teams when I could, but I'd always enjoyed it here. More giggles floated to us from Riley's cubicle, and I stiffened, remembering how he had winked at me just now, how he'd invaded my space at the photo shoot. Could I really endure this for God knew how long? “I'll think about it,” I said, and I meant it.

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“Good.” Greg clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Want to grab a beer after work?” In the last couple of years, I'd forgotten that I'd been new once too and that Greg had been my mentor. Sometimes he gave off a vibe I didn't understand, but he'd always been good to me. “I'd like that,” I told him, smiling as I entered my office. “I'll be done a little after eight, I think.” “Same,” he said, walking away and waving at me over his shoulder. “See you.” I went to my desk, pausing when I saw a copy of the new company face book waiting for me in my in-box. Taking a seat, I picked it up and flipped through to my team. A sigh of relief whispered out of me when I saw Shawn had chosen the photo that had me half smiling. I looked remarkably calm and pulled together, which was good. My fingers skimmed over the picture. Jeff Fehn and I were the same height, and two other men were shorter. Beside me, Riley towered above us all, a confident smirk on his mouth. He made me look small, young. The side effect in full swing within his body had probably made little changes to him since the beginning. That would explain why he was so much taller, and it would explain why he never went through a lanky phase. It was more than an outlier. It was a miracle. I couldn't blame him for being cocky as hell, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay near him while he played it up. Everything inside of me drew tight whenever he came near me, and no one could take that much stress. Closing the book, I rubbed the back of my neck. If I transferred to development expense, what would guarantee I'd have any more authority there than I did with Riley? In global consolidation, I had a history of sound decisions. I did favors for other teams, but they didn't know me that well. I hadn't earned their respect. If everyone really did know about the problems I

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was having with Riley, then they'd know why I would run away from global consolidation. Chances were things would get worse, not better. Unless I could somehow level the playing field. Unless I could start in a new department with a clean slate. I squeezed my eyes shut for several seconds, racked with indecision. Then I snapped up the phone and scheduled a flu shot.

***** I felt remarkably calm as I left the office to stand in front of the elevator. After four days of waiting for my appointment to arrive, I guess I'd burned through my panic. This was good. “Mr. Carlyle?” Even that voice didn't make me jump. “Yes, Riley?” I turned up the collar of my coat as I prepared for the weather outside. “Where are you going?” “Doctor's appointment,” I answered absently, fastening the last of my buttons. “Are you… Are you okay?” Caught off guard by the soft question, I glanced up. My body stilled as I stared into those hazel eyes. “I'm fine. It's just a routine checkup.” He braced a forearm on the wall beside us and lowered his head. “Cool.” It looked like he really cared. It felt like he really cared, and a faint, tentative smile touched my mouth. His lips parted, then curved into a grin. “What if I need to ask you a question on the latest set of figures?” The noise of the office faded as his voice washed over me. It was an odd feeling, almost like the one I got whenever I… Whenever I was studying numbers.

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Trying to keep my mind focused on his question, I answered the best I could. “Melanie is the next senior member of the team—she'll be able to help you with whatever you need. And you can always ask Greg Morris. He headed up global consolidation before I signed on to the company.” His brow furrowed, but the elevator doors opened, and I was out of time. “I'm sure you'll be able to handle things without me for a couple of hours.” I paused inside the doors. “But if the New York office calls, tell them I'll be back soon and will handle their issues personally.” The frown vanished as he straightened. “I can take care of that for you.” He looked eager to help, and seeing proof that Riley Jameson took pride in his job made me grin. “The New York office is an isolated bubble of very special insanity. I wouldn't subject any member of my team to that.” I winked up at him. “But thank you for offering to throw yourself on your sword for me.” The doors closed as Riley's husky laughter sank into me.

***** Was my arm supposed to hurt this much? I wanted to let my head thump back against the elevator wall and shut my eyes, but I wasn't alone and didn't want people asking if I was all right. But…was I all right? Pain at injection site. Nausea. Headache. All common side effects. All temporary. So no need to worry. I was okay. The elevator opened, and I walked out onto my floor. Something cold touched my ear, and I brushed a hand over my hair, trying to rid myself of the last snowflakes that insisted on clinging to me. I felt like crap. I wondered if I could get away with a daytime nap in my office. During the last days of the year? Yeah, right. I was lucky I'd been able to leave and get the shot at all.

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A flash of movement caught my eye, and I turned my head to see Riley waving me over. Funny. Now that there was no turning back, I felt more relaxed. Or maybe it was the way he'd asked after me before I'd left to get my shot. I'd even thought about him in the waiting room without tremors of disquiet snaking through my body. It had been like he was right there, flashing that million-dollar smile to set me at ease. My mouth crooked as I crossed to his desk. “I was gone an hour and a half. Don't tell me things have fallen apart already?” He stopped short, then laughed. “No, I wanted to let you know I'm done with that breakdown you needed.” My head was pounding, but I forced a smile and glanced at his screen. “Thank you. E-mail me a copy, and I'll look it over in my office.” His hand paused on his mouse. “Oh. Sure.” When I started to leave, he grabbed my arm. Pain lanced through the injection site, and I hissed. Riley instantly let me go, and I looked up just in time to see him grin. “You got a flu shot, didn't you?” At the edges of my vision, I saw people glance up in their cubicles. “I…” “You did.” He jumped to his feet, making my world so small, so fast, that I stumbled backward. “I can see it in your eyes.” The cubicle wall kept me from landing on my ass, but now I was good and trapped. “Not that it's any of your business, but yes.” Despite the panic wanting to hit the surface, my voice was level. “I got inoculated today.” He grabbed the low wall on each side of me, caging me with his body. “You think you'll get as big as me?” Everyone around us was watching. I hadn't wanted anyone to know I'd gotten the shot, since chances were good I wouldn't grow at all. Now I had to

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fake a calm I sure as hell didn't feel. “I doubt that. But it is flu season, and I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to get vaccinated.” Riley didn't move, that cocky grin I'd thought was comforting just a few seconds ago playing on his mouth. “You act like you don't care about growing, but it feels good.” The arms surrounding me flexed, sending another tantalizing ripple through his body. “At least, it does for me.” My gaze dipped to his pecs. No polo shirt today—and the buttons looked as if they were hanging on for dear life. Even his nipples were clearly visible as they pushed against the material. “I look good, right?” he whispered. My eyes narrowed, and I looked up. “I am your boss, Riley, and you're stepping over the line. I'd hate to have to write you up for this.” He snatched his hands away, his face hardening as he looked me over. Shit, I was probably going to regret that, but with a little luck, I'd be settled in a new department in a few weeks. Pretending to ignore Riley's angry gaze, I went to my office. The pounding in my head intensified as I sat at my desk and scrubbed my face with my hands. I'd never intended to stay in global consolidation forever. Even though development expense was a lateral move, it would only delay my career plan for a little while, and in the long run it could be the best thing for me. Still, I'd miss global consolidation. The people. The challenges. And as I remembered the husky laughter that had lingered with me at the doctor's office, I realized that despite the difficulties our working relationship kept developing…I thought I might miss Riley too.

***** A quarter inch above six feet. I stared at the line I'd marked on the wall. Needing to be sure, I remeasured its distance from the floor with my tape measure. Relief nearly made my knees buckle.

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I was a quarter inch above six feet. Side effect kicking in, thank God. It had been three days since my shot, and the nausea was gone. The headache was gone. Even the pain in my right arm was gone. This morning I was bright and energized, ready to take whatever life threw at me. I put the tape measure away, then jumped into the shower and lathered myself up. Riley had said growing felt good, but physically I didn't feel much different. Greg had called it interesting, and I was thinking my own experience would be along those lines. Speaking of interesting… Despite the fact that I knew it was too soon to tell, I could swear my shower stall looked just a little bit smaller. How many inches would I gain before I noticed an actual difference? Three? Five? The bar of soap I held paused on my chest. Six feet five. How amazing would that be? All this fantasizing was about to make me late, so I rushed through my morning routine and raced to work. I couldn't stop grinning, saying hello to everyone I passed. Even Riley. His gaze dipped from the bulletin board he was studying down to me, and his mouth crooked. Could he notice already that I was taller? The thought should have made me cocky, but instead I blushed. Not wanting to turn completely red, I escaped into my office, where I set up my computer and turned on the coffee machine. I checked my voice mail, listening to the usual issues about cash flow, as well as an invite from Greg to join some of the other team leaders for dinner next week. I noted everything that needed my personal attention and then called Greg to let him know I'd make it. Within minutes, my quarter-inch gain in height was the furthest thing from my mind. By the end of the workday, though, it was right at the forefront again. For the third time, I pulled on the sleeves of my suit jacket, staring at how the cuffs crept past the tops of my wrists. I'd had this suit tailored to fit me, so

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the cuffs shouldn't be so low on my hands. And if I was growing, wouldn't they be creeping in the opposite direction? My pants were giving me problems too. It was barely noticeable, but they draped over my shoes, about to brush the floor. That wasn't right. I opened a drawer in my desk, rummaging through the items I'd been storing there. No tape measure, but I did find a ruler, which would have to do. I couldn't wait until I got home to check this out. Grabbing a pencil, I stood and pressed myself back against a wall. My hand was shaking, so I had to force it steady as I set the ruler on top of my head and drew a line. I turned and stared at the mark, as if looking at it could tell me what I needed to know. Maybe I was wrong about this. Maybe I should go home first. I dropped to my knees and held the ruler against the wall. I was about to flip it end over end when I realized I was hovering above the carpet fibers, not pressing into the floor. Shit. Had I done that this morning? I set the ruler against the floor. Flipping it over and over, I rose to my feet and didn't stop until I got to that line. My breath caught when I put together what my height came out to. Five-eleven and a half. No… I must have slipped. I dropped to my knees again. This time I was more careful, moving slower. Same result. I stood against the wall, drawing a new line to double-check my height. I spun and looked. Dead even with the last line I drew. Maybe flipping the ruler was skewing the results. I measured again, this time using my pencil to mark a line at the top of the ruler, then moving the bottom of the ruler to that line. This time… I marked another line. This time it'll come out at six flat.

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But it didn't. It came to five-eleven and a half. My head dropped against the wall, and I burst into soft, wet laughter. “One in two hundred chance,” I whispered, my hands curling into fists. “And I hit the jackpot. I should've just bought a scratch ticket.” I laughed awhile longer, unable to envision my future. At least it was Friday, I supposed. I'd have a little more time to absorb the full scope of what I'd done to myself. “TGIF,” I murmured, pushing myself straight and dropping the ruler into the trash. I pulled on my coat, packed up my laptop, turned off my coffee machine. Stifling another chuckle, I flicked off the light and headed home. I didn't smile at anyone as I left.

***** Three inches. In one weekend. That was incredible. Or it would be if it weren't happening to me. I sat in the corner of my bedroom, hugging my knees to my chest as I stared at the marks on my wall. I'd been compulsive about recording my descending height—measuring myself every couple of hours—so now I had a matching set of descending lines down the face of my formerly pristine white wall. Three inches. That made me five-nine now, which wouldn't be so bad but for the fact that the average height for American males had risen from five-nine to six flat this year. Now I didn't even hit the average mark; I came in below it. I hugged my knees tighter. My clothes no longer fit. Everything was baggy and long. When I wore them, I thought I could feel my body shrinking—my skin sliding against the fabric, my arms pulling shorter, my legs doing the same. All I could stand to wear now were my boxer shorts, which thankfully still fit, albeit a little awkwardly.

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I was due at work at 7 a.m. tomorrow. By 7:01, everyone on my floor would know what had happened to me. By noon, everyone in the building would have heard. Would they come to gawk at me? Would they crowd inside my office the way they'd crowded around Riley's desk, asking me how I felt, commenting on how they couldn't imagine being me? My forehead dropped onto my upraised knees. What should I do? Call in sick? Take a leave of absence? Maybe I could call my superior and sign up for one of those telecommuting options, work from home. I slipped my hands into my hair, twisting it around my fingers and pulling hard. An inarticulate sound of pain and frustration ripped out of me. What should I do? I had no one to ask, no one to help me. What was right? I lifted my head, stared at those descending marks. It didn't matter that I had no one to ask. I knew what was right. Preliminary data for the year-end figures was already flooding our department. Team needed me. I had to go to work. Stumbling to my feet, I lurched to the closet. Stores were closed by now— no time to get a suit that fit me. I flipped through my hangers, past the jackets I'd been so proud to own just a few days ago. I retrieved a pair of slacks and put them on, ignoring how the pant legs pooled around my feet as I shuffled to my dresser. After searching out a belt, I slid it through the loops of my slacks and cinched it to the last notch. I opened another drawer and found a blue polo shirt—one I'd always meant to wear—and pulled off the price tag before putting it on. It took several deep breaths, but I turned to look at the full-length mirror. The shirt didn't look…too bad. The short sleeves hung loose near my elbows, and the hem went just past my hips. It was conceivable that I'd want to look like this. The pants, though… They were going to be a problem.

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I knelt on one knee, tucking the cuff under. Switching legs, I did the same to the other and stood. The shirt hid the bunched material around my waist. The pant legs worked, assuming I could figure out a way to keep them like this. Call in sick tomorrow. Use the time to get some clothes that fit. No. If I didn't go back tomorrow, I might never go back. But I didn't have a sewing kit. I didn't have anything more useful in the apartment than my laptop and some paper clips, and I wasn't MacGyver. I paused, looked in the direction of my front door. The sweet old lady across the hall was handy, though. And she adored me, always baking me cookies and offering to share Thanksgiving leftovers. Hesitating, unsure I was ready for anyone to see me like this, I forced myself to leave my apartment. The hallway was empty, thank goodness. And there was a seam of light visible around the edges of her door, so she was most likely awake. Relieved, I lifted my hand and knocked. We both gasped when it swung open. “Nick?” she asked, her eyes wide. I tilted my head back. She had to be five-eleven. No old lady should be that tall. “Hi, Mrs. Everley.” Mrs. Everley fisted her hand to her breasts, and I had a feeling I'd have to get used to seeing that expression. Pity. My gaze dropped to stare at her powder blue slippers. “I was wondering if you might have any safety pins I could borrow?” “Safety pins?” She was quiet a moment before saying, “Oh, you need to make some adjustments to your slacks?” I nodded at the floor.

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A warm hand pressed against my back, ushering me inside. “Safety pins won't work for what you need. Let me take in those pants.” My head shot up. “Really?” She smiled warmly at me. “Of course, dear. You need clothes that fit.” “But…” I shook my head. “Isn't that a lot of work for you? Especially at this time of night?” “No, no. Should only take a few minutes.” She gently patted my cheek and went to another room. “Let me get my supplies.” I stood there in the middle of her living room, waiting. I stared at the lacy curtains, the doilies on the end tables, the throws slung over the couch. My eyebrow lifted at three little garden gnomes standing together in the corner, but I decided they were friendly enough and glanced away. It was nice here. Having never known either of my own grandmothers, I'd always imagined them to have lived in places like this. Cozy, warm, a touch of bizarre. My own apartment was more or less a place to sleep. Found a Web site, picked out dining, living, and bedroom sets, charged it on my card. Simple. When the furniture arrived, it looked more or less like the online catalog pictures, and I'd never thought twice about it. But I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a friend over, and I wondered whether someone I was associated with would even realize it was my apartment. “All right, dear.” Mrs. Everley came bustling back to the living room. “Let's get you fixed up.” “Mrs. Everley…” I looked up, into her gray eyes. “I'm causing you too much trouble with this.” “Nonsense.” She knelt in front of me, set her yellow sewing box on the floor, and untucked the hems of my slacks. “Taking something in is easy. It's

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growing that puts a kink in things. Sooner or later you simply run out of fabric and have to buy new clothes.” I tilted my head to the side. “Don't you like being tall?” “Heavens, no. I was quite comfortable with being five foot four, thank you very much.” Seven inches. “You grew more than the statistical average,” I said automatically. She harrumphed, as if that fact made things exponentially worse. “I never paid much heed to numbers.” My lips twitched, pulling into a soft smile as I stared down at her bowed head. We were so different, but she didn't think twice about helping me. “Nick.” She opened her sewing box and pulled out a pincushion. “Once I get your measurements, I'll take in the rest of your clothing. Just give me a week or so to get it all done.” I glanced to the side, a hollow sort of regret eating into me. Mrs. Everley didn't pay attention to numbers, was at ease with who she'd been. If this woman actually had been my grandmother, her influence might have saved me a lot of grief.

***** Usually I loved Monday mornings. I loved going to work. I loved checking to see what new projects were waiting for me. I even loved the problems that almost always landed on my desk, because I felt alive when pressured to find a solution to them. I splashed the soap from my face and looked into the mirror. Was it my imagination, or did my bone structure look more…delicate than it had on Friday? I lifted my hand, traced the pads of my fingers over my cheekbones, my jawline. From what I'd read, Omnifluvac didn't cause an unhealthy loss in bone mass, although I wasn't sure in what world losing three inches could be considered healthy.

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My eyes seemed bigger, which added to the feeling of delicacy, but aside from that the shrinking seemed proportional. A blessing, I supposed. I looked like I'd always been this size. Carefully, I shaved the hair from my face, slowly getting used to holding a razor that felt bigger in my hand. I managed to get through it without nicking myself, so that was good. Last night I'd given most of my clothing to Mrs. Everley. I'd talked with her awhile, had a chocolate chip cookie, then gone back to my place to lie down for a bit. I ended up sleeping through the night, and now it was too early in the morning to go knocking on her door. Didn't want to risk waking such a sweet lady after all she'd done for me, so today I'd be going to work in slacks and a polo shirt. At least the slacks fit. Blowing out a slow breath, I got dressed, gathered my things, and left for work. This was going to be the worst Monday of my life, but if I could get through it… All I'd get was Tuesday. The thought was nearly enough to get me to turn back, but I forced myself forward. Through the lobby, onto the elevator, off the elevator. The halls went quiet as I walked through, as did many of the cubicles. I kept my gaze locked to the floor, trying to shut out the hushed wave of whispers behind me. I can do this. Just get to the office. One foot in front of the other, Carlyle. You're not too small to do that. No one said anything directly to me, which was a blessing. I made it to the office just as my phone rang. “This is Nick Carlyle,” I answered. “Mr. Carlyle, your eight-thirty appointment has arrived early. Shall I tell him to wait?”

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I glanced at my clock—it was 7:45 now. I hadn't even realized I was running forty-five minutes late. When was the last time that had happened? Never. Sighing, I remembered the phone in my hand. “Appointment?” “Your interview, sir. Mark Whalen?” I have an interview today. Shit. Mark… Which one was Mark? “I'll see him in fifteen minutes.” “Yes, sir.” I returned the phone to its cradle and set up my computer. The first thing I opened was a quick-reference spreadsheet of all my interview candidates. “Whalen…” Ah, yes. Good credentials, a year of experience at another company. As I read his stats, his face appeared in my mind's eye. Good kid. Nervous, but then most interviewees were. My gaze touched on his age, and I shook my head. He was twenty-eight—a year older than me—and I was calling him “kid.” Pulling up his résumé, I sat back in my chair. My eyes widened when my feet hovered above the floor. I was too small for my chair? I started to lower it, and my hand paused on the lever. Okay, what was worse? Being uncomfortable or looking short? I tried to imagine what it would be like, sitting on the other side of this desk, staring at the man who'd be my boss. I thought about how delicate I'd looked in the mirror before I left home. Looking short was worse. My hand left the lever as I went back to studying his résumé. When I relaxed, my toes touched the floor, so it wasn't that uncomfortable. I knew I was going to look smaller than I had during Mark's first interview, but it was better than nothing. Besides, if I remembered correctly, Mark was just under five-nine. As far as that went, we were on fairly even ground.

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Clicking on Mark's name, I pulled up a list of follow-up questions I wanted to ask him. Once I'd reviewed them, I shut my laptop monitor. Back when I'd been job seeking, I remembered how flustered I'd get if the interviewer seemed distracted by something on their computer. Or, worse, if they seemed bored. Didn't want Mark to go through that. There was a knock on my door, and I glanced at my watch. Eight o'clock, on the dot. “Come in.” The door swung open, and my head tilted back. I always forgot to factor in that fucking flu shot. Mark—tall and long and wearing a perfectly fitted suit—strode straight for me, extending his hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Carlyle. I'm sorry I'm so early; I've been excited about this interview all week.” I stared at his hand a moment, then reluctantly rose to shake it. “Good to see you again, M—” My mind stumbled. Mark? Mr. Whalen? “Mark.” His eyebrow cocked as he stared down at me, but at least he had enough sense not to comment on the reversal of our heights. Awkwardly, I pulled my hand back and returned to my chair. “Please, have a seat.” He did as told, his gaze calm and steady as he watched me. I tried not to squirm. He had to be six-two now, and five inches taller than me. From my perspective he seemed to loom ridiculously high, and I felt…deficient sitting across from him. Like a child playing in a grown-up's chair. “How've you been?” Mark grinned. “I've been great, Mr. Carlyle.” My mind fished around for the questions I'd meant to ask him. Normally the quick review I'd given myself before he came in would have been more than enough, but I was floundering. “Why…why don't you tell me again why you think you'd be a good fit for our company?” Was that one even on the list? God, I was really off balance here.

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But he answered smoothly. I marveled at how different he seemed—cool, confident. He had an answer for every one of my faltering questions. Hard to believe that five inches could do so much for a person. I was finding out the hard way it worked in the other direction as well. Losing three inches had made me a wreck. The interview ended with another awkward handshake. Mark opened the door and grinned at me, lingering several agonizing seconds to stare before he left. Intimidate the boss—yeah, that'll get you the job. As soon as the door shut, I laid my head on the desk and closed my eyes, intending to take a few minutes before I had to fake being calm again. In my job, though, that was rarely possible. The phone rang. My head still on my desk, I blindly reached for it and answered. “Nick Carlyle.” The man on the line was panicked and speaking a mile a minute. I blinked, absorbing what he was telling me while trying to place his voice. “…discrepancy in the New York…” Sam Pritchard? Trent Booth? “…two million dollars…” Eldon Langley. Yeah, had to be him. “Nick! Are you listening to me?” Without lifting my head off the desk, I pushed open my laptop. “On it,” I murmured. On the other end, Eldon's fading voice shot a half dozen questions at me as I set the phone in its cradle. As the last set of figures from New York appeared on my screen, I realized we were in some fairly deep shit, and my mouth crooked in a faint smile. Now this was something I could deal with.

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Finally sitting up, I studied the numbers. I could see the problem easily. Fixing it would require help, but that's what I had a team for, right? I left my office, going straight for Melanie's cubicle. Everyone watched me as I walked, and my skin crawled with the force of their stares. With some effort, I managed to keep my gaze from drifting to Riley's desk. Somehow I thought I might break if I saw how he looked at me. Shit. Since when could one kid's opinion make or break me? “Melanie.” She glanced up, her eyes rounding. I guess she hadn't seen me on my way in. “N-Nick?” “We have a problem,” I said, ignoring her reaction as I leaned toward her computer. “Can I use your console?” “Of course.” Melanie slid her chair backward. “What's going on?” I pulled her keyboard toward me, accessed the company's financial database, and brought up the spreadsheet that had put Eldon into such a frenzy. “There.” Her brow furrowed as she stared hard at the screen, then shook her head. “What?” Right. Not everyone was freakishly in tune with numbers like me. I called up a few more spreadsheets and indicated the relevant sections with my finger. “See it?” She leaned closer to the monitor, concentrating. It took a few seconds, but she picked up on it, and her face cleared. “Holy shit. How did that happen?” “I think it's a miscalculation in the New York office's figures. There's no way their year-end actuals could be two million dollars over our forecasts.” Melanie shook her head. “What do we do?” “We backtrack through their sheets and check their math.” I straightened away from the computer. “Get the team and make it your top priority.”

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“Sure thing, boss,” she said, saluting me. Feeling more like myself, I grinned, patted the top of her chair, and headed back to my office. Not wanting to lose the marginal bliss I was feeling, I tried to keep my gaze from drifting in Riley's direction. In the end I couldn't help myself and glanced over. He wasn't at his cubicle, and it surprised me to see that his desk had been put up on blocks. Why was that? Because of his size? My gaze drifted to his empty chair, and I noticed for the first time how much larger it was from the standard office issue. Wow, to be that big… My momentum stopped suddenly when I slammed into a hard, warm wall of muscle, and in a flash I realized only my luck could be this bad. “Sorry,” said Riley, his voice deep and rumbling as his hand engulfed my shoulder. “Didn't see you there.” Of course he wouldn't. Right now I was frozen, staring at the top of his chest. I wasn't even in his line of sight. “N-no problem.” Another dress shirt today, I noticed. Since he'd gotten inoculated, I'd never seen him wear the same outfit twice, yet this shirt was barely hanging on to him, with slight spaces already appearing between the buttons over his pecs. Every time he breathed, the material would pull a little farther apart, then come back together. It was hypnotic. That big hand gently pushed me backward. “Oh, hey.” He paused, his gaze going thoughtful as he stared down at me. “Mr. Carlyle.” He hadn't even realized it was me. “Hello, Riley,” I said softly, captivated by his face. Where I looked delicate now, his features only seemed to get stronger. Clean, powerful lines marked his jaw, his nose, his cheekbones. The planes of his face were defined and easy to follow. Was I really thinking of him as a kid a few moments ago?

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“You were late this morning.” His thumb shifted, brushing against my collarbone. “Long night?” “Something like that.” His hand was warm against my body, scrambling my thoughts. Because of the casual shirt I'd worn today? Would I have been safer in a suit? “We're in a bit of a crisis at the moment. Melanie will fill you in on the details.” “Yeah?” His grip firmed on my shoulder as his gaze slid down my face, my chest, my legs. A smile touched his mouth as he met my eyes again. “You're here now. Wouldn't it be better if I heard it from you?” That would be a disaster, since I can barely remember my own name. The weight of his hand made me feel fragile and small. My confidence from a few minutes ago evaporated, and I was back to being the timid man I'd been during my interview with Mark. Only this was so much worse because Riley's eyes were knowing, dangerous. “I'm in a hurry,” I managed. “Just speak to Melanie, all right?” His lips twitched. “You do seem a little flustered.” My skin went hot, and I started to move away from him. “I have everything under control.” His fingers tightened on my shoulder, holding me immobile and proving beyond a doubt that I did not have everything under control. “Cool shirt, Mr. Carlyle. I have one just like it, but”—he winked down at me—“you look different in it than I do.” My skin went from hot to cold as I stared up at him. “I'm sure.” Riley glanced up, seemed to notice for the first time that we weren't having a private conversation. “I guess I should talk to Melanie.” His hand slipped from my shoulder, and the lack of weight made me light on my feet. “Catch you later.” He acted like I was barely his boss, and I didn't know what to do about it. “We'll be having a team meeting later today. I'll see you then.”

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Grinning, he slid a hand into his pocket. “Wouldn't miss it.” Wouldn't miss it. As if I'd invited him to a party instead of a business meeting. “This is serious, Riley. There's a lot of money at stake, and if we're unable to resolve the problem, a lot of people in the lower levels of the company could lose their jobs.” His grin faded. “How long do we have?” I recalled the panic in Eldon's voice, the myriad of errors I'd spotted in the New York office's sheets by just skimming them. No doubt there were plenty more beneath the surface. “At most, we've got a week and a half before the managers above us start making rash decisions.” I looked directly into his eyes. “But we will have this resolved by the end of business today, understand?” Riley's smile unexpectedly returned, and it was somehow…softer this time. “No pressure.” “What?” “Even now, you're…” Shaking his head, he backed away from me. “I've never seen anyone as cool in a crisis as you, Mr. Carlyle.” He turned and headed for his cubicle. “Looking forward to the meeting today.” I stood there, stunned, as I watched him leave.

***** “I'm sorry.” For what? I nearly asked. I didn't look up from my computer as Greg leaned back against my closed door. “Not your fault.” Pretending ignorance would just draw things out, make things harder. Pretending I was okay would make things easier. I hoped. “I'm the one who pushed you into getting that shot.” The cadence of my typing didn't change. Here, in the relative safety of my office, I was focused, calm. “I made the decision for myself. Gambled and lost.” “For what it's worth, you look fine.”

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That was enough to jar me out of my work, and I glanced up. “You're shitting me.” He chuckled. “I'm not. Really.” Finally easing away from my door, he took the seat across from me. “I wouldn't have believed it, but you look good, Nick. Like you're still on top of things.” If he only knew. “Thanks,” I said cautiously. It was bullshit, definitely, but I was grateful for what he was trying to do. “Have you thought any more about my offer? Taking over my position in development expense?” “Yes.” I returned my attention to my computer. “But I haven't decided yet.” “Okay,” he said, his voice hushed. I didn't say anything, focusing most of my concentration on my project. I expected Greg to tell me to hang in there, then leave—that was our routine— but he didn't. He just sat quietly and watched me. After a few minutes, I realized we were deviating from our routine today. “Greg.” I saved my document and glanced up at him. “You don't have to worry about me. I've got everything under control.” When I'd said that to Riley, he'd known instantly it was a bald-faced lie, that the only thing I was handling with any kind of grace was my job. But Greg only grinned and nodded, taking the statement at face value. “All right,” he said, rising out of his chair. “I get the hint.” I smiled up at him. “You can stay if you want. I don't mind.” “I'd better not—heard about the mess you're having to sort through. I should let you do your job.” He rolled his eyes. “And I suppose I should go and do mine.” For the first time since Friday evening, I laughed. The sound was rusty and strained, but it felt good. “That might be a smart idea. Wouldn't want the higher-ups to rethink your promotion.”

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“True. Now that I have it, I might as well keep it.” He walked toward the door. “Still on for dinner this Wednesday, right?” My laughter faded. Dinner with my peers? “You still want me there?” His head tilted to the side as his grin warmed. “Definitely.” Maybe…maybe things weren't so bad after all. “Yeah, I'll be there.” “Good.” Greg slid a hand into his pocket. “In fact, why don't we—” The door swung open, interrupting him. My eyes widened as Riley strode in, ducking slightly under the door frame. Fuck, if he was doing that, he had to be at least six-eight, right? “Mr. Carlyle.” He held up a file. “I have some questions I need to ask you.” Greg raised an eyebrow, glanced at me. “Your subordinates don't knock, Nick?” Riley stiffened, and I saw a seam pop over his sleeve. I stared, transfixed, at the tiny bit of tanned skin nearly hidden by the white of his shirt. “Trials of an open-door policy,” I murmured. Somehow I snapped myself out of my trance. “One moment, Riley,” I told him, dragging my gaze back to Greg. “You were saying…?” The mild annoyance in his face vanished. “Lunch. Want to do it today?” Riley's gaze shot to Greg, back to me. Unable to control myself, I shrank—just slightly—deeper into my chair. Why was he looking at me like that? “Sure. I can move some things around, if you don't mind meeting at one.” Greg glanced at his watch. “One sounds about right.” He walked past Riley without looking at him. “I know how you get lost in your numbers, so I'll pick you up.” Some of my tension bled out of me, and I smiled. “Thank you.” As soon as he left, Riley shut the door behind him. “You're going out to lunch today?”

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God, now that we were alone together, he seemed to fill the room. I thought I'd felt small during my interview with Mark, but this… Don't show how much he rattles you. “Apparently,” I said, flicking my gaze to my screen. “You said you had questions for me?” “You never go out for lunch on Mondays. You always grab something from the deli downstairs and bring it back to your office.” My mouth worked as I tried to find his point. “That doesn't sound like a question, Riley.” He stopped short. “Right. Was just surprised.” Striding to my desk, he opened the folder and pulled out hard copies of the spreadsheets I'd shown Melanie earlier. “These are the discrepancies we've found so far.” He pointed to cells marked in red. “And we wanted to know if you thought we were on the right track.” “You printed them out.” I stared at the sheets as if I were looking at handinked parchment. “That's…so retro.” Riley chuckled. Low. Husky. It sent shivers up my spine. “It was easier for us to get coordinated this way, see the big picture.” “Whatever works.” Frowning at the small print, I pulled a pair of glasses from my breast pocket and put them on. “I didn't know you wore glasses, Mr. Carlyle.” “Usually I wear contacts,” I said absently, spreading the sheets out on my desk. “But I fumbled them this morning and lost a lens in the sink.” “Because you're smaller?” My head shot up, and suddenly I was aware that my toes were having a little more trouble touching the floor than they had when I'd come into work. “II hadn't thought of that, but possibly.” “I can relate.” His hazel eyes were bright, totally focused on me. “You wouldn't believe how my life's changed since I started growing.”

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Teasing me again. Needing a distraction, I glanced down at the spreadsheets on my desk. It took a few seconds, but soon I was lost in the numbers, letting them flow over me. “You're going in the right direction. I can't believe you've gotten so much done already.” “You did say you wanted it our top priority.” He propped his fists on my desk and leaned forward. “That's why I was surprised that you were going out for lunch. Figured you'd want to stay here, with us.” The meager serenity I'd achieved fractured as I gawked up at him. His shoulders were huge. Nearly twice as broad as mine and capped with hard, rounded muscle. I couldn't even imagine their power. “You sure you want to go, Mr. Carlyle?” I felt myself blushing and struggled against it. “G-given the work I see here, you can do well enough without me for forty-five minutes, I'm sure.” “Just forty-five?” He swept up the papers on my desk, giving them a light tap to even them out before slipping them into their folder. “That makes more sense.” His gaze met mine. “Knew you couldn't stay away for long.” The breath skittered in my chest, but he left before I could say anything. When my door snicked shut, I let myself run a trembling hand through my hair. Every second around Riley made me feel smaller, more intimidated by his presence. He enjoyed the hell out of torturing me, and I couldn't understand what he got out of it at this point. Power trip? Ego boost? My head fell back against the chair, and I stared up at the ceiling. If it lasted much longer, I was going to shatter.

***** THE CHOSEN ONES

Now that most of the world has taken Omnifluvac, it's become simple to separate the genetically superior from the inferior.

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Clearly, those who have benefited from the shot by growing stronger and healthier possessed superior genes waiting to be unlocked, while those who didn't change at all should bow to their obvious masters. Those who have actually lost height…

I clicked on the spinning icon in the upper corner of my screen and unsubscribed from all articles having to do with the flu shot. I stood from my desk, breathing hard, trying not to be scared out of my mind. It was just some random blogger, a crackpot spouting off to get hits. It had nothing to do with me. My dumb luck that I'd read it right before teaching my Excel seminar, though. Nothing shot a man's confidence like hearing he was on the bottom rung of the human race. Sighing, I gathered my materials and swept up my laptop. It was a spreadsheet class; I doubted more than one or two desks would be filled. All I had to do was give the course, answer any questions the attendees might have, and retreat to my office. I made my way to conference room 801. As had become my habit since my inoculation, I was staring more at the floor than at anything around me. It was easier that way, letting me navigate the new world around me without having to endure stares and pitying smiles as I passed through the halls. I didn't have to look up until I'd actually entered the conference room. My feet rooted to the floor when I saw that every single seat had been filled. Four rows of six, so twenty-four people had shown up. Twenty-four pairs of eyes watched me expectantly as I stood in the doorway. I cleared my throat, knowing either they were in the wrong place or I was. “Excuse me? Are you all here for the Basic Excel Techniques seminar?” Twenty-four heads nodded. Okay. This was bizarre.

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But I've prepared like crazy for this class. I can do this in my sleep. The thought got my feet moving, and I walked to the head of the class. Luckily I'd erred on the side of caution and printed up twenty-four pamphlets, so I handed the stack to the first person in the front row. “Could you please take one and pass the rest along?” “Sure thing, Mr. Carlyle.” I paused. He didn't look familiar to me, so how did he know— Oh, right. My name was printed on the seminar announcement. Of course he'd know it. While the class distributed my materials among themselves, I plugged my computer into a projector and set things up on my end. I double-clicked on my Excel icon, glanced up at the big screen to make sure the image on my monitor was visible there, and turned to face my students. “The best way to learn Excel is to jump right in, so this hour we'll be”—my voice trailed as I spotted three new people standing at the back of the room—“building a spreadsheet from scratch.” Two more people slipped inside to stand against the back wall. For a second I lost my train of thought. “I'm sorry. I don't have any extra pamphlets.” One of the women standing smiled broadly. “Oh, please don't worry about us. Our own fault for showing up late.” Why were there so many people there? Did they come to gawk at the incredible shrinking man? I squashed the thought, for my own sanity and because… Well, because they didn't look as if they were gawking. They looked attentive, like any students interested in a particular subject. Besides, I'd been five-eight for almost two weeks. The shock of my smaller stature had surely worn off by now.

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Choosing to give them the benefit of the doubt, I removed a laser pointer from my pocket and returned my focus to the presentation at hand. I spoke clearly, paced each step slowly so that everyone could follow. Bit by bit, a simple spreadsheet began to appear on the wall behind me. Those who'd brought laptops built the sheet along with me; those who didn't took what looked like fairly detailed notes. Holy shit. They were really paying attention. To me. After explaining a somewhat complicated step, I glanced at my students, using my pointer to indicate the section we'd just completed. My heart jumped when I saw Riley against that back wall, standing head and shoulders above everyone else. “A-any questions?” He grinned, and I was hard-pressed to tear my gaze from him. There were a few questions, and I amazed myself by answering them smoothly and intelligently. Something inside me clicked on to automatic as I discussed sorting methods, search protocols, ways to connect data from one tab to another so that the results adjusted themselves in real time. No stammering, no more losing my train of thought. Practicing what I was going to say in my apartment had helped, definitely. But my mind kept drifting to Riley. What was he doing here? He wasn't taking notes. He was just watching me. Why? I chanced a glance at him as I moved on to the next segment of my lesson. Red polo shirt today, and the material clung to his shoulders, his biceps and triceps, his chest. It was looser around his relatively narrow waist, tucked into a snug pair of khakis. I thought about the article I'd glimpsed before coming here. Out of the world's population, roughly eighty-four thousand could conceivably experience the phenomenal growth Riley had gotten from the flu shot. Given that many people had chosen not to get inoculated, the actual number was even lower.

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Did that mean Riley was inherently special, as the article had declared? How did people like him see people like me? At the end of the day, what would the students attending this seminar really think of me? Stupid. It's one insane blogger, remember? I forced a smile and clicked off my laser pen. “And now we have a completed spreadsheet,” I said, pretending to be confident. “As you can see, mastering the basics is quite simple, and I promise you it will prove a valuable tool, not only with work but with any number of organizational tasks.” My gaze didn't leave my audience as I turned off the projector and closed my laptop. “Thank you all for coming. I apologize again for not having enough printed materials for everyone. I never dreamed so many people would be interested in data entry.” The crowd in front of me chuckled, then clapped their hands. I blinked. Applause? Seriously? “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. The class began to pack up their things, and I did the same, sliding my laptop into its case. “Mr. Carlyle?” I glanced up and looked into the eyes of a man who'd sat in the front row. The new guy in Greg's department…Alan Solis. “Yes, Alan?” He broke into a smile. “You know who I am?” Newbies—so easy to please. “Greg Morris is my mentor.” “Really?” His gaze flitted to the pamphlet he held, then back to me. “Seems like you could teach him a thing or two.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” His back jerked straight, as if he'd just realized he'd said something totally out of line. “I mean… It was a great presentation. I didn't…” He kept floundering, and I took mercy on him. “Thank you. I'm glad you've gotten so much out of it.”

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Alan relaxed a little, still fiddling with the pamphlet in his hand. “I was wondering when your next seminar will be?” “Next seminar?” My mouth worked a few times. “I hadn't planned on anything after this one.” A man I didn't recognize appeared next to Alan. Older than me, probably close to Greg's age. “If you held a follow-up seminar, I'd make sure to be here early enough to grab a desk.” Suddenly there was a crowd around me, echoing their statements. My back thumped against the wall behind me as I stared up at everyone, disjointed thoughts flitting through my head. I could probably make this a series. Next time I'd create a sign-up sheet to make sure everyone had a desk. Am I the shortest guy in the room? Maybe I'd discuss writing imaginative code. Shit, I am the shortest guy in the room! I snapped myself back to attention. “If I can get approval, I'm sure I can put together a few more seminars.” “You'll definitely get approval, boss.” Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. “Today was great.” I was so happy to see my right hand that I didn't even mind she was three full inches taller than me in those heels of hers. “What are you doing here? You're brilliant with Excel.” Melanie blushed. “Brilliant is stretching it. Besides”—she smiled—“always good to review the basics, right?” “Right,” I murmured, dazed as I looked around at the crowd of people smiling down at me. It was weird—I knew they genuinely wanted to learn more about spreadsheets, but they were staring at me like I was a kid who'd just gotten through his first recital.

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Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red moving toward the door. Riley, with a strangely sober expression on his face. He turned his head, caught me looking. The seriousness vanished as he grinned and winked at me just before ducking through the door. The chatter in the room faded as I wondered what he'd thought of my seminar.

***** I stared through the flawless floor-to-ceiling glass of my window, contemplating the nightscape stretched out below me. My office lights were off, but the streetlamps reflecting off the snow cast a cool, quiet illumination throughout the room. It had been a while since I'd taken a moment to watch the city like this. I'd been so busy with work lately that I didn't have the energy to do anything but go home and crawl into bed as soon as I was done. Truthfully, today had been no different. Especially after giving that seminar. I bit lightly on my thumbnail. I didn't want to go home and crawl into bed tonight. I wanted to…celebrate or something. Just didn't have anyone to call. I considered picking up the phone and dialing Greg's number, but nixed the idea. Even if he did happen to be awake at this hour, I couldn't see myself gushing to him about how well my very first class had gone, how the students had practically begged me to add another one. What was wrong with me? Greg was my friend, wasn't he? The closest thing I had, anyway. Shit, that was a depressing thought. I liked Greg and everything, but I hadn't realized he was my entire social calendar. The company had moved me here five years ago, and I'd been stellar at my job. Tonight, though, I wondered if maybe I should have been aiming for something more. “Mr. Carlyle.”

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I spun, my eyes rounding when I saw Riley standing just inside my door. “What are you doing here?” He glanced around the dim office before letting his gaze settle on me. “Came to see you.” A tremor of unease went through me. Even in this light I could see those bright eyes. And they were predatory. “I-it's after midnight. How did you know I'd be here?” He shrugged. “Wasn't hard to figure out. Middle of January, the books are about to close. There's only one place you'd be.” At work. Always at work. “Right,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “How can I help you, Riley?” Hands in his pockets, he approached, his stride easy, relaxed. “Great class today.” It was a struggle to hold my ground. I wanted to make a break for it. “Oh?” He stopped a few feet away. “Everybody was talking about you afterward. What a good teacher you are. How smart you are. How confident. They couldn't stop.” My foot edged back as I pressed myself against the window behind me. My gaze darted to his broad shoulders, his chest, his long, long legs. “What was your question, Riley?” “I didn't say I had a question. I said I came to see you.” My head shot up. “Why did you come to see me?” His mouth crooked as he began to move toward me again. “Still not afraid of being molested here late at night?” Riley's huge body loomed before mine, sending off waves of heat. His sheer size actually made my knees quake, but I forced myself to sound brave. “Of course not.”

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Those big hands left his pockets and braced themselves against the window on each side of me. He lowered his head, his eyes focused, his voice husky. “Maybe you should be.” Caged again. Riley filled my entire field of vision, and the heat rolling off him was a jarring contrast to the cold of the window against my back. “Riley…” A smile ghosted on his mouth. “Nick.” He leaned closer, his warm breath caressing my lips. “Nicky.” It was the first time he'd ever said my first name, and the ease with which he'd slipped into calling me Nicky scared the hell out of me. I slammed my hands against his chest, hard enough to sting my palms. I meant to push him away, but feeling his rock-hard pecs shocked me into falling still. Riley hissed, but he was still smiling. Fuck, this must be making him feel good. “W-we can't do whatever you're thinking of doing.” “Sure we can.” He brushed his lips across the bridge of my nose. “We're doing it right now.” My head jerked back, knocking against the window behind me. Riley slipped his hand into my hair, massaging the back of my skull with his fingers. “I really shake you up, don't I? It's gotten worse since you got smaller. Cute.” Cute? Full-on panic drenched me, and I shoved against his chest. I knew I was no match for him physically, but I thought if I could just create an opening— Riley groaned, leaning into my hands. The muscles under my palms undulated wildly, then swelled as the ripple spread from his chest. The rounded delts capping his shoulders pumped bigger. His traps rose higher as his biceps and triceps stretched the sleeves of his polo shirt tight. I paused, my lips parting in awe as I realized what was happening.

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I was forcing him to exert himself, and the resulting effect on his body was staggering. My hands began to slip from his chest, and his eyes snapped open. “Don't stop,” he growled. Fear froze my hands in place. Riley's eyes went unnaturally bright as he pushed himself closer. Like a wild animal getting ready to pounce. Even knowing what it would do to him, I couldn't stop myself from fighting his approach. His eyes drifted closed, his breath coming in harsh, aroused gasps. Seams popped over his shoulders as they widened. The collar of his shirt stretched tight around his thickening neck. The material under my palms slid against my skin, thinning so much that the fibers were beginning to separate. I glanced down just in time to see his thighs tear through his khakis. Each head of muscle was defined to the point of savagery, and the bulge at his crotch looked about ready to give the material there the same treatment. Another tearing sound caught my attention, and my gaze shot back to his shirt. The cloth split over his chest, revealing tanned, hard pecs. His sleeves ripped free from the rest of his shirt as his shoulders spread even wider, thicker. His traps and neck popped open his collar, and that was pretty much the end. The rest of the material fell away, revealing his monster of a body, leaving me clutching the ruined shirt in my clenched fists. “More,” whispered Riley, nuzzling the curve of my neck. Afraid of what was going to happen next, caught up in some desperate need to see, I shoved with everything I had. Nothing happened. The skin over his pectoral muscles didn't even dent. Riley's mouth moved to my ear. “Keep going. Feels good.” I tried. He was just…too big. Too strong.

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Slowly, Riley straightened. His smoky gaze flitted to my shaking arms, back to my eyes. “You're pushing as hard as you can.” His mouth crooked. “And all I feel is your hands laying against my chest.” My arms were still locked as I stared up at him. His grin pulled wider as he flexed his chest. The muscles there swelled, inching inexorably forward, buckling my arms. It drove home how far his strength went beyond mine. This time I did make a break for it. His long arm hooked around my body before I'd even taken a step, curling me close to him. “You sure you want to run?” he breathed, lifting me off my feet as he buried his nose in my hair. “You're always staring at my arms, my chest. The bigger I get, the more you stare.” “Wh-what do you want?” I asked, barely keeping myself from squeezing my eyes shut. One of his big hands slid down my nape, my back, curved over my ass. “You're a smart guy.” His hold on me firmed as he drew me closer, rubbing himself against me. “I'm sure you can figure it out.” His hard, thick cock shoved between my thighs, thrusting back and forth. I gasped, staring into his eyes in shock. He grinned just before lowering his head and crushing our mouths together. Those lips were hard, smooth, hot. My hands spasmed against his shoulders, dragging against his tight skin. His tongue played against my teeth, surprisingly gentle as it coaxed my mouth open. I couldn't stop myself from sucking on him, from moaning into him. The kiss broke, and I was sliding down his naked body. Every hill and crevice in his chest, his stomach, his legs caressed me as my feet touched the floor.

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I blinked up at him, confused and trying to come back to my senses. Not that I had time for that. Riley caressed my cheek, making me shiver. His fingers trailed down the side of my neck and gripped my shoulder, turning me around. I tried to stop him, but his hold was too strong. “What—” He pulled me against his body. “Like that?” His heavy balls pressed against the small of my back, his cock stretching along my spine. I could feel the hot, throbbing flesh even through my clothes, and my entire body arched. “Holy—” He slid my jacket off my shoulders, separating us for the barest of moments as he let it rustle to the floor. His dick pressed against me again, hotter this time, as his big hands skimmed to my throat, forcing my head up as his long fingers undid the knot of my tie. My body started when I caught our reflections in the window. My shoulders hit the middle of his stomach. The tie fell to the floor, and those oddly nimble fingers went to work on my shirt. I couldn't stop staring at us. Were his shoulders actually more than twice as broad as mine? Or was that my imagination? I didn't think it was my imagination. Riley dropped to one knee, unfastening the buttons below my chest. I started to ask why and snapped my mouth shut. I was so small, he couldn't reach. I couldn't see his expression. All I could see were his shoulders, his arms and legs—all so much bigger than my own. He slipped my shirt off first one shoulder, then the other. I gasped as more and more of my body was revealed. I hadn't really looked in the mirror these past weeks, and I couldn't get over how fragile I appeared as Riley wrapped thick arms around me. “Your heart's beating so fast,” he said, palming my chest as he pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades. “Like a rabbit's.”

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Unable to look at myself anymore, I bit my lip and stared at the floor. Riley's hands roamed over my torso, caressing my chest, my stomach, skimming upward again. He sucked kisses down my back while rubbing the pads of his fingers over my nipples, and pretty soon even biting my lip couldn't stem the sounds of arousal streaming out of me. His mouth moved lower and so did his hands. He unfastened the catch in my slacks and pushed them to the floor along with my briefs, bunching the material around my feet, grazing his teeth over one of my calves and making both legs shake. He slipped off one of my shoes, then the other. Teasing little nips bit at my waist as he pulled my pants off my feet and tossed them against the window. Powerful fingers closed around my dick as his warm, wet mouth brushed over the small of my back. I felt myself blush red as he began to stroke me, as I felt him smile against my skin. I tried not to think about how I had to be half his size as his hand engulfed my dick, working it until I was painfully hard. He trailed kisses down my body. Lower…lower… His tongue slid into the line of my ass. My hand flew out and slammed against the window as I searched blindly for support. He grabbed my thighs, spreading my legs apart as he thrust his face deeper into my ass, as his tongue searched out my pucker. Gasping for breath, I braced both hands against the window, curling them into fists as his long, hot tongue plunged into my hole. My muscles clenched against my will, but he didn't seem to notice, driving into me again and again. In seconds I was whimpering, begging for more. His mouth pulled away, and cold air whispered over my ass. A low, gruff sound of disappointment escaped me, and I turned my head, desperate for explanation. Riley stood, cocking an eyebrow as he stared down at me.

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I think he realized that the mechanics of sex between us might be…complicated. If I had been my old height, it would have been easier— “Keep your hands against the window,” murmured Riley, grabbing my hips and dragging them up to his crotch. “You can keep this position, right? Not going to land on your face, are you?” My feet dangled above the floor, and I kept my hands against that window for dear life as I nodded. “Cool.” Riley's grip tightened. “Doesn't matter if you slip, though. I can catch you in plenty of time.” That…almost sounded like concern. I glanced up, looking higher on the window as I searched for his reflection. He was staring at my body, his expression more intense, more focused than I'd ever seen it. My gaze dipped, and I caught sight of his cock. It was dripping with precum, the entire shaft glistening in the ice blue light reflecting off the snow outside. “S-someone might see us.” “Hmm?” He broke into a grin and glanced up. “Nah, I've looked at this building plenty of times at night. Can't see anything inside.” A part of me wondered what could have had him staring at a nearly empty building after dark, but that part evaporated as soon as I felt his slick cockhead pushing against my ass. Fuck, he's big. I stiffened as he found my pucker, and seriously considered letting my hands fall away from the window just so he'd have to catch me. Still holding me above the floor, Riley stroked my skin with his thumbs. The touch distracted me, eased the tension in my muscles. His cock slid forward slowly, giving me time to adjust. I held my breath, stretched to what I was sure was my limit, then breathed a sigh when the mushroomed head made it inside without tearing me apart. The rest of him was thick as hell but bearable, and I braced myself, expecting him to pound me.

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But he didn't. He just…waited. I was still. He was still. All I could hear was my own breathing. Why doesn't he move? What is he waiting for? I looked at the window, sucking in my breath when I saw him watching me in the glass. Even in the reflection I could see his flushed skin, as well as the rapid rise and fall of his chest. But through all of that, he was still smiling. Bastard. He was waiting for me to want it! Gritting my teeth, I pushed against the window, impaling myself deeper onto his cock. His head fell back as he groaned, but I'd guessed right—he'd gotten what he wanted. He inched himself forward, filling me, stretching me. I tried to make him go faster—I needed him to go faster—but there wasn't much I could do in my position. He was in complete control, just like he had been for the last several months. I cried out when his cock rubbed against that electric spot inside of me. Riley chuckled, meeting my gaze in the window with heavy-lidded eyes. “You have a tight little ass,” he murmured, burying himself deeper. “Been imagining how it was going to feel wrapped around me.” Imagining? He'd been planning this? His hips bumped my ass, and I lost the ability to speak. Oh. Shit. That entire monster was inside of me. I'd never had this much before. Trying to fix the awkwardness of my hanging legs, I hooked my feet behind his knees. Riley paused, and I could hear the pleasure spike in his voice. “Oh fuck yeah. Hold on like this as long as you can, okay?” I made some inarticulate sound that he took as assent. He started to pull away, and the curves of my ankles slid up his hard thighs. His cock tortured me, rubbing against that magic spot without letting

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up. He pushed himself back in, smoother this time, giving me a taste of every ridge, every vein in the stone-hard flesh. “Fuck,” I whispered, breathing harder. “Holy mother fuck.” Riley's fingers dug into my hips as he drew back, thrust forward. Getting there. Needed more… As if he'd heard my thoughts, he slammed into me hard and lightning fast. I wasn't prepared, and if I hadn't crossed my forearms at the last second, I would have cracked my face against the window. Riley growled, forcing me to take more of his pole, gaining strength as I was losing mine. My dick dripped precum as my body rocked forward with every thrust. The pressure building inside me was excruciating, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to contain it. God, how long could he last? How long could I last? His relentless pace made every muscle in my body burn, and the only relief I had was the cold window I could barely brace against. Tears seeped through my eyelids, and I started to beg in earnest. “Riley…please…” I groaned, then begged some more. “I need…” A slew of feral sounds poured out of his mouth as he pounded me harder. The glass rattled in front of me, and suddenly I shattered. Raw pleasure razed up my spine. It spread outward, twisting my stomach, flooding my mind with snow-white light. I came so hard my body convulsed, my dick splattering my load onto the window in front of me. The explosion knocked me from my precarious position, and I plummeted toward the floor. Riley grabbed my waist and yanked me upright as he slammed us against the window. His body swelled behind me as he held me tight, as his cock erupted. The cold against my chest and face. The searing heat against my back. His body jerked, again and again, filling me, then overflowing me, spilling out of my ass and down the backs of my thighs.

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It was too much. I couldn't stop shuddering with the ecstasy of it all. Riley's knees buckled. As we fell to the floor, his arms tightened around me, cushioning the impact. “Got you.” He held me against his chest and rolled onto his back, breathing hard, stroking my chest, my stomach. “I've got you.” Oh, my God. Oh, my— A sob racked my body, but I managed to stifle the sound. What was wrong with me? I couldn't… I couldn't… Riley eased his cock out of my ass and turned me onto my side. He grinned as he looked into my eyes. “Was I that good?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my cheek and showing me my tears. The teasing made everything exponentially worse. I'd been stripped and laid bare just now. I'd shown him things I'd never shown anyone, and it was a game to him. It had been from the beginning. “Happy now?” He chuckled, threading his fingers through my hair. “Oh, yeah.” I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying frantically to get the tears to stop. I searched for my pride, for a way to protect myself from begging for more of his touch. “Proved that you could do whatever you wanted to the boss, didn't you?” His hand paused. “Nicky…” That one word was enough to kill my tears, and I lurched to my feet. Riley sat up. “Nick.” I stumbled to my clothing and yanked on my pants with shaking hands. “You've had your fun.” I grabbed my shirt, my tie, my jacket. “Now leave me alone.” His voice dropped to a whisper as I hurried past him. “Mr. Carlyle.” I threw open my door and ran away.

*****

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“Scotch. Neat. For both me and my friend.” Greg glanced at me and back at the waiter. “Make them doubles.” As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, I shook my head. “I can't have that much liquor at lunch.” “Trust me.” He leaned back in his seat, looking me over. “You need it.” Maybe I did. I turned my head, staring at four waiters crisscrossing the restaurant. I'd counted twelve active tables, so each server was responsible for three. An excellent ratio—probably why the service here was so efficient. “Nick, what happened last week?” A spear of ice blue pleasure lanced through me, but I was sure it didn't show in my expression. Everything on the outside felt dead. “Nothing.” I heard him exhale slowly. “You said your presentation last week went well, right?” “It was great.” “Have you had a chance to celebrate your success?” Celebrate? I glanced at Greg. “No, not yet.” “Crime.” His eyes were kind, intent as he leaned forward. “How about we do that this weekend, just you and me? We'll get rip-roaring drunk while you give me a play-by-play of everything that happened.” For the first time in a week, I smiled. “Really?” Greg chuckled. “It'll be fun.” Our drinks arrived, and I curled the fingers of both hands around my glass. Greg had suggested the very thing I'd been needing since giving my workshop. He wasn't the closest thing I had to a friend. He was a real one.

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I exited the elevator a little light-headed, a little warm. I wasn't much of a drinker, and two fingers of scotch had me…shit, pretty fucking relaxed. Hopefully no one would notice. Out of habit, I glanced at Riley's desk as I walked by. He'd already been watching me and snatched his gaze away. There didn't seem to be any rumors flying about what happened between us. He hadn't gone bragging about his conquest of the boss. I didn't understand it. Why do it in the first place if you weren't going to tell anyone? Deciding to count my blessings, I returned to my office. I'd barely closed the door behind me when someone knocked on it. I froze. I hadn't talked to Riley any more than absolutely necessary over the last week. I wasn't ready— “Nick?” asked a female voice. Melanie, thank God. Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened the door, cocking my head back slightly to look into her eyes. “Yes?” She stared down at me, shifting from one foot to the other. “Boss, can I come in?” “Of course.” I stepped aside. “What can I do for you?” Her voice dropped as the door shut. “Are you all right?” I smiled and lied through my teeth. “I'm fine.” “Are you…” Her gaze dipped briefly. “Are you sure?” My heart skipped a beat, but I kept smiling. “Yes. Why do you ask?” She shook her head, her eyes beginning to shine. “There's this rumor.” I was wrong. Riley's having his fun, after all. “Rumor?” Melanie hiccupped. “Boss…have we been running you ragged?” I frowned, trying to follow. “What?”

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“Everyone knows you do more than your share of work within the team, and the fact that you have to check over our sheets when we're done with them doesn't help, and…and…” “Melanie,” I whispered. She blinked, making her eyes shine brighter. “Y-you don't have to leave global consolidation. We can do better.” Leave… That was the rumor she'd heard. “There is a chance I'll be transferring out soon, but if I do, that decision will have nothing to do with you guys. I couldn't imagine a better team.” Finally, the tears standing in her eyes receded. “You're the best team leader I've ever worked with—talented, easy to talk to, dynamic. I'm not even exaggerating when I say that you bring out the potential in all of us. Even Riley. When that kid started working here, I was sure he was going to be fired within a week. But now he's holding his own with the rest of us.” Riley. Not wanting to think about him, I began to turn away. “Thank you,” I said simply. Melanie caught my arm. “Nick, if our performance isn't what's bothering you, what is?” “Nothing,” I said, lying again. I was starting to see that Melanie really cared about me, but I could barely admit to myself what had happened, let alone anyone else. “You can lean on us, you know.” She used her free hand to fiddle with my hair. “God knows you're always there for us.” My brow furrowed. “I don't do anything anyone else in my position wouldn't do.” She smiled. “You have no idea. That's what makes you so great. You take time on weekends and after work to teach us skills that come naturally to you.” “Having a strong team enables better—”

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“Remember when my mother was in the hospital? You donated half your sick days to me so that I could stay with her longer.” “I rarely get sick, so—” Her slender hand cupped my face. “No idea,” she said, smiling as she shook her head. “But it's okay. I'm going to make sure the rest of the team appreciates you more—take some of the pressure off of you.” My lips parted. “In the meantime, boss, I'll steal some of those mints Riley has stashed in his desk and bring them by.” She leaned a little closer as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Cover up that scotch on your breath.” I jerked away from her, covering my mouth with my hand. The liquor. That was why she'd thought something was wrong. “I'm not a child, Melanie.” “Believe me, everyone here knows that much.” She laughed and opened the door. “Watch out with Mr. Morris. He's a hard-core lush, and everyone knows he'd never have gotten promoted if you hadn't bailed out his team all those times.” Stunned, too stunned to correct her about Greg, I could only watch her leave. What… What had she been laughing about?

***** I leaned my shoulder against the wall, staring out my window again. The bright sunlight cascaded over the snow-covered city, making it sparkle. Gorgeous. Magical. I told myself I was enjoying the view, but really I was just reliving that night with Riley.

Why couldn't I forget his touch? He'd been making fun of me, using me to gauge his power and status. Hell, I should have fired him. “You're an idiot, Carlyle,” I whispered to myself.

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“You really love that window.” I spun, grinning when I saw Greg walk into the room. “I wouldn't say love.” “I would.” He closed the distance between us, rubbing at the five-o'clock shadow on his jaw. “You forget that I was here when you got this office. I seem to recall a lot of cooing.” My eyes rounded. “I did not coo.” “You did, and it was cute.” Chuckling, he ruffled my hair. “We still on for tonight?” Out of habit, I looked him over. Growing taller hadn't altered his sense of style at all. Shoes, slacks, shirt, jacket—it all accented his frame, his eyes, his hair. Not like me—I couldn't seem to get past the awkward stage shrinking had put me in with my own clothing. “Was just waiting for you to come and get me,” I murmured, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. His fingers lingered in my hair. He didn't say anything. “Greg?” Pressing himself closer, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over mine. Startled, I jumped away from him, my fingers on my lips. “What are you doing?” He grinned, edging me back against the wall. “I was going to go a little slower, but I can't help myself when you look at me like that.” He lowered his head again, his hand curling around my arm. “You're so pretty.” “Pretty?” I tried to push him away, surprised by how strong he was as he nipped at my ear. He pulled back, but only far enough to look into my eyes. “Yeah, always thought so. But after you got inoculated, something about you…” He lightly rubbed our noses together. “I find you irresistible, you know?” What? What? “I-I don't understand.”

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“I don't really understand it either, but shit. Now I'm hard every time I look at you.” He nipped at my lower lip. “Glad we're dating.” “Dating!” I pushed harder against his chest. “We're not dating!” He straightened, his face confused and laced with anger. “We're not? What do you call the last few weeks? Having lunch every day? Having dinner almost every evening?” I paused, staring up at him. “H-hanging out.” “Hanging out.” He chuckled. Then, when he saw I was serious, his voice slipped into a whisper. “Hanging out?” He looked so hurt, and my hands slid to the lapels of his jacket. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you…” I swallowed. “I didn't realize we…” His brow furrowed as he stared hard into my eyes. Then he shoved me against the wall and crushed our mouths together. Déjà vu. Only… This didn't really remind me of Riley's kiss. My stomach twisted, but it was more of a sick feeling, not a painful need. My hands curled into fists. I'd wanted Riley. I didn't want Greg. Not this way. Tearing my mouth from his, I shoved him back. “This isn't right,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don't—” Greg surged forward, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. “Don't finish that sentence. We're good together. Just give it a chance.” Struggling against his hold was useless. It was impossible to break. “Stop!” He covered my mouth with his. Hard, punishing. Riley had been forceful, but it hadn't felt anything like this. I bucked as hard as I could, cursing the fact that the seven-inch difference between us could put me in such a powerless position with him.

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The office door slammed hard, and suddenly he was ripped away from me. My eyes rounded when I saw who'd come to my rescue. “R-Riley.” His face calm, impassive, he pinned Greg's wrist high on the window beside him. “I wouldn't presume to interrupt two of my superiors in the middle of a private meeting, but”—he glanced at Greg, then at me—“I wanted to make sure you were all right, Mr. Carlyle.” My breath caught. Greg swore, trying to yank his arm free. “Of course he's all right, you idiot!” The cords in Riley's forearms undulated, sending a ripple of power up his arm, across his shoulders. His pecs flexed hard, and his abdominal muscles tightened while his thighs and calves swelled. His clothing, which had fit perfectly just seconds before, stretched to contain his body. Riley blew out a slow, measured breath, his gaze never leaving mine. “Feels so fucking good when I grow,” he said, ignoring Greg's struggles. “My mind gets fuzzy, and sometimes I can't really see what's going on right in front of me.” Was that…was that an apology? I stared up at him, unsure. “Let me go!” yelled Greg, taking a swipe at Riley, but unable to reach because of the sheer length of the younger man's arm. Riley glanced over at him, lifting him into the air with one hand, sending more ripples throughout his body. “Quiet for a few seconds, will you?” “I will not be—” “You realize a twitch of my hand is all it would take to break your arm, don't you?” Greg fell still, his eyes bloody murder. “You wouldn't. I'd have your ass thrown in jail.” Riley's cool expression didn't change. “Do I look like someone who thinks that far into the future? Seriously?”

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The color drained from Greg's face, but he kept talking. “Nick and I were making out; that's all.” “Is that true, Mr. Carlyle?” Riley's slow gaze roved over me. “Because you don't look turned on.” I hesitated—I didn't want to get Greg hurt, but I didn't want to give him any more ideas either. “It was a misunderstanding,” I said carefully. “But no, I wasn't aroused.” “Hear that, Mr. Morris?” Riley lowered him to the floor. “You going to leave him alone?” Greg stared at me, cradling his wrist against his chest. “Yes,” he whispered. “Greg—” He strode out of the room. I thought about going after him, but that didn't seem like the right move. Although, considering the staggering number of wrong moves I'd made lately, who knew what I should have done. “Mr. Carlyle?” Riley was there with me by the window, just like that night. I turned my head and stared up at him. “Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his distance. “I'm fine,” I lied. I lied so much, all the time, but I hadn't realized it until Riley. It made me damned tired, but at this point I was powerless to stop. He frowned. “You sure?” My closest friend had wanted more, and now he was gone. One of my employees had seen his boss nearly get…nearly get… Christ, what would have happened if Riley hadn't been there? Greg would have stopped, I was sure. But those few seconds in his grip had been the most helpless of my life.

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I was so far from okay. “I'm sure,” I said, smiling at him. “I do have work to do, though, so if you could…” I let the sentence trail as I gestured toward my door. Those hazel eyes skimmed over me again. “You look like you're ready to go home.” The coat. Right. “I actually forgot about a meeting I have with”—my mind scanned through a list of possible candidates—“Australia. I'll have to stay late.” He didn't move, and I babbled on. “In fact, could you do me a favor and tell the reception desk to hold all my calls and to let everyone know that my door is closed for the remainder of the evening? These talks could get tricky, and I'll need to concentrate.” “Mr. Carlyle—” “Please,” I said, knowing I was about to break. Riley stiffened, then strode away. Just as he reached the door, however, he paused and looked over his shoulder. God, can't you see I need you gone? “Riley.” His hand slipped from the knob as he walked back to me. I tried to run, but he grabbed my arm and dragged me against his body. “I'm sorry for what Morris did to you,” he murmured, wrapping me in a gentle embrace. “I'm sorry for what I did too.” My eyes drifted shut as his hand slipped into my hair, as he coaxed my head into resting against his chest. Surrounded by his warmth, his scent, his strength… I wanted to burst into tears again. Why was I always like this with him? What about him made my emotions writhe and churn? “Thank you.” He held me close a few seconds more. Then his arms fell away, and he was out of my office. Just like I'd wanted. I staggered to my couch and fell into the cushions. Staring up at the ceiling, I did the only thing I had the energy for. I listened to the quiet.

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***** My hand trembled on my mouse as I scanned through Riley's latest spreadsheet. The entire team's work had improved dramatically, but this… Not one mistake. Not one projection unaccounted for. I couldn't help wondering if it was a side effect of the shot. Everyone on my team had gotten inoculated; I'd heard them talking about it, comparing stats. The ones who hadn't gained height were the ones who'd had the least improvement. Riley had improved the most, and he was also the one who'd grown the most. It was possible there was a correlation. If so, I was going to be out of a job soon. Sighing, I closed my laptop and slipped it into its case. It was almost 3 a.m. on a Saturday, and I was determined to go home, relax, maybe pop some popcorn. Normal people did things like that on the weekend, didn't they? I wanted to see what it was like. I opened my office door and walked toward the elevator. Unfamiliar light caught my attention, and I glanced in that direction, realizing the glow came from a cubicle. Riley's cubicle. Curious, I went to check it out, surprised to see Riley asleep at his desk. His big body looked so at peace that I paused just to stare. I'd honestly never known a more beautiful man. His clothes had to be new, because they fit him, but that couldn't hide the striking width of his back, the strength of his arms. His lats expanded and contracted slightly with every breath, showing off the power and grace he commanded even while sleeping. His face… Such full lips. They looked soft, but I knew from experience that they were as hard as the rest of him. Yet somehow they'd managed to draw me in as they caressed my mouth, my neck, my back. His eyelashes were brown, but their tips were golden as they feathered against his skin. I'd never noticed that

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before; we'd had sex, but I'd never been so close to him. It was a strange concept to have to process. What was he doing here so late? On a Friday night? Tentatively, I reached out and touched his shoulder. It didn't give at all, and I pushed a little more, amazed that even relaxed it was so hard. “Riley.” No answer. I edged closer, tapping his back this time as I spoke into his ear. “Riley.” He bolted upright, startling me so much that I dropped my laptop case and jumped back from him. His eyes rounded when he saw me. “M-Mr. Carlyle.” I froze, wanting to run but rooted to the floor. Breathing hard, he glanced away, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I dozed off.” With those bright eyes focused away from me, I managed to find my voice. “What are you doing here this time of night?” He shook his head, staring at his monitor, his keyboard, his cup of pens at the corner of his desk. “Working.” His knees bounced up and down as he straightened a stack of papers. “Just working.” I'd never seen him fidget so much, and I stood quiet, watching him. Riley picked up a pencil and dropped it into his cup. “I can't believe I fell asleep.” He drummed his fingers against the desk, glancing at the calendar pinned to his cubicle wall. “I usually listen for your door and turn off my lamp until you're in the elevator.” “You've been keeping later hours than me?” My head tilted to the side. “And you've been hiding it?” His gaze darted to me before going back to his keyboard. “Have to.” He looked almost frightened, and I had trouble comprehending the sight. “Why?”

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A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Because I suck. My projects are always crap.” I frowned. “That's not true.” “It is!” His hands curled into fists as he checked himself. “You tell Melanie she's brilliant. You tell Jeff that he's innovative. With me”—he shuddered—“it's always corrections.” Shit. I'd been avoiding him, speaking to him only when necessary. I'd neglected to remember that praise was necessary as well. “First of all, you can't compare yourself to Melanie or Jeff. They've been working at this company longer than I have. But you've improved a lot, and—” “It doesn't matter.” He cut me off, staring down at his fists. “I'll never get it right.” This was not the man I'd known in the last months. I hadn't thought anything could hurt Riley. Blowing out a soft breath, I walked into his cubicle and pulled his keyboard toward me. Bringing his computer out of sleep mode, I called up the spreadsheet I'd been studying a few minutes before. “This is flawless,” I murmured, staring at the monitor, letting those perfect numbers wash over me. “Organized, accurate, easy to read. And this”—I touched one of the sort methods displayed on the screen—“is exceptional. I've never seen code quite like this before, but it's simple and functional. Excellent work.” “Even by your standards?” “Hmm,” I responded absently. I was still staring at the harmony on the screen, really losing myself in figures for the first time in weeks. I was such a geek, but just looking at them made me happy. “Haven't seen anything so nice in a long time.” “So you're impressed?” I blinked at the screen, realizing he was fishing for something. “Riley.” I turned my head. “I just told you it's flawless work.” His breath hitched. “Tell me you're impressed.”

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It wasn't a cocky demand for attention. It was quieter. More desperate. “Riley—” “Please,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Say it.” “Why—” “Because it's all I can have!” Shocked, I stumbled back from his desk. “Wh-what?” “I blew my one shot!” He curled forward in his chair, cradling his face in his hands, muffling his voice. “All I can get now is your respect. It's the only part of you I can have. All I can…” His fingers slid into his hair and pulled viciously at the locks. “I blew my one shot.” My mind spun as I struggled to understand. “Your one shot?” He lifted his head, hazel eyes shining bright. “With you.” I took a step back. And another. “Mr. Carlyle?” “You said you were sorry for what you did, and I believed you.” I glanced at my laptop case, decided I didn't care enough about it to retrieve it from his cubicle. “Why are you fucking with me again?” His lips parted. “I'm not fucking with you.” He jumped to his feet when I tried to leave. “I'm not.” Making sure to keep an eye on him, I backed away, my escape halted by the wall behind me. Riley looked sincere, but it didn't add up. He raised his hands, like he was trying to put me at ease. “I swear.” My stomach lurched; my chest constricted. Again, a maelstrom of emotions tried to rip me apart from the inside out. Only this time, tears weren't at the forefront. My fists clenched as I glared up at him. “That's bullshit!” Riley—a full foot taller than me and over three hundred pounds of muscle—fell back a step. “You have no idea what it's been like for me since we

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had sex. Being with you turned out to be better than I imagined, and now all I can think about is touching you again, tasting you.” A shaky smile curved his lips. “Except you don't want me.” He's making fun of me again. “You say that like you'd been 'imagining' it for a long time.” Still smiling, he nodded. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered, struggling with the urge to hit him. “You must really think I'm stupid.” His smile vanished. “I've never thought that. I've always admired—” “Admired?” All the stress from the last months snapped my control, and I began shouting at him. “Is that why you fenced me in with your body in front of the entire department? Why you said 'I can relate' when I admitted my life had changed because of the shrinking?” Riley cocked an eyebrow. Oh, that didn't help my temper at all. “Smirking at me! Touching me to bring attention to the difference in our sizes!” I made a slashing motion with my hand—cutting through the air, cutting through my own frustration. I didn't understand it myself, but damned if it didn't feel good. “You call telling me that I look different than you do in the same shirt admiring me?” All of Riley's angst evaporated. “Is that why you never wore that shirt again?” “That's not the point!” “Right,” he murmured, studying me as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on, let it all out.” His calm knocked me off balance, and my voice dropped to normal levels. “You're always making fun of me.” “I'd never make fun of you,” he said gently, his eyes dead serious as he looked at me. “You're so cute.” I raised a hand in disbelief. “You're making fun of me now.”

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He shook his head. “You're terrible at reading signals, which I hadn't figured on, because you're so good at everything else.” His arms fell to his sides as he approached me. “I mean it when I say you're cute. No teasing involved.” Oh, God. As he came closer, my head tilted farther and farther back, and I had nowhere to run. But he didn't crowd me, stopping an arm's length away. “I get into your space because it's the only time you show you're turned on by me. The more aggressive I get, the more you show it.” That wasn't how it worked…was it? Untrusting, I pressed my palms flat against the wall. Riley leaned down, his face sober. “When I said I could relate to you, I meant I could relate. When you change sizes suddenly like that, everything seems screwed up for a while. Chairs feel off. People look at you harder. You have to pick up a whole new wardrobe.” He tugged lightly at his clothing. “Sometimes several times over.” I'd gone through all that. On the opposite end of the spectrum, but I had. Could Riley really have been trying to connect with me that day? “When I told you that your shirt looked different”—his voice softened as he leaned closer—“I meant you looked better. It doesn't matter what I wear—every muscle in my body is outlined for the world to see. Your polo shirt draped over you, giving hints about what was underneath. I could tell it was nice, but I couldn't tell how nice until I had you naked.” It felt like reality was trying to reorder itself, and my head started to hurt. “But—” “I could have handled things better; I know that. I feel like a kid fresh out of junior high whenever I'm around you, though. Always smiling, always finding stupid excuses to touch you.” This was too much, and I couldn't process it. I couldn't rearrange the events that had been locked in my mind for so long.

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His face gentled. “When you gave your class, I panicked. News about the little hottie in global consolidation was spreading like wildfire, and I knew I was going to lose my shot at you.” Hottie? Me? Riley straightened, glancing away as he tucked his thumbs into his pockets. “Came on strong because I was sure you'd like it more if I did. But instead you burst into tears. Even ass-hat Morris didn't make you cry.” Before Riley, I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried. I still didn't understand why it had happened, but given everything he was telling me now, I felt like I should try to explain. “I…” His gaze drifted back to me. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to keep my eyes on his. “I don't know why I burst into tears that night. There was this ball of…something inside of me, and I couldn't hold it in.” Jesus, that was awful. And it was all I had. Riley's voice was husky, serious. “How do you feel about me?” “You know how I feel,” I whispered. He shook his head. “I really, really don't.” “Come on,” I said, embarrassed now. “You must have known I've been attracted to you since the day you signed on here.” A smile ghosted onto Riley's lips. “Well, no. I wasn't even sure you were into guys until I started growing and you started stuttering.” I'd never felt so awkward in my entire life. “Oh.” He waited a few seconds, then lowered his head a fraction. “Are you going to tell me?” An hour ago I'd been scared of Riley, aroused by Riley, dejected because of Riley. He expected me to untangle all that on the spot? “Mr. Carlyle.” He swallowed hard. “Nick. Did I really blow my one shot with you?”

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I needed time to think, to figure this out. It didn't look like I was going to get it, though, and I began to slide to the floor, settling for a little space. “Whoa!” Riley swooped forward, scooping me up and cradling me in his arms. “You okay?” “F-fine,” I said, my eyes wide. “Just wanted to sit.” He glanced around, then strode to my office. “I'll take you to your couch.” Those long legs ate up the floor, and I gripped his biceps to keep my balance. I looked down at the rock-hard muscles, then back at his face. “You're not…” “Growing?” Riley curled me closer. “My strength increases faster than my muscles. At this point, you're not heavy enough to give me a workout.” Because I was small. Because I was fragile. Worn-out by it all, I tentatively rested my forehead against his shoulder. “You called me Nicky.” His stride faltered. “I was jealous as fuck.” “Jealous?” I frowned against him. “Of what?” “Seemed like everyone was calling you Nick, but I was stuck with Mr. Carlyle.” He shrugged, the simple movement lifting my entire body. “I tried to force something a little more intimate, something they didn't have.” He set me on the sofa, kneeling on the floor in front of me. “Doesn't fit you. I realized that as soon as it came out of my mouth.” His fists clenched as he swore under his breath. “Then, like a moron, I had to push things and say it again.” My gaze dipped to my knees. I'd never heard Riley talk so much, and I…well, I believed him. I just didn't know where that left us. A big hand cupped my face, coaxing me into lifting my head. “Are you feeling better?” asked Riley. I nodded. “Hate me?” I shook my head.

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His mouth crooked. “With both me and Greg Morris jumping you, I was sure you would.” “It wasn't the same,” I said automatically, then snapped my head out of his grip. “Hey, how did you know I wasn't attracted to Greg?” This time Riley didn't seem shaken by my abruptness, and his fingers skimmed along my ear. “When you're turned on, the tops of your ears go red.” He caressed the skin just above my collar. “And a blush starts to creep in here. Then your lips part, just a little bit…” His eyebrows rose, and he lifted his hand to trace my opened mouth with the pad of his thumb. The breath stalled in my chest. All this time, I thought I'd done such a great job of appearing cool and mature. But whatever I felt was obvious to Riley. My professionalism was the only shield I had against the growing world around me. How would I cope, knowing it had never existed in the first place? Riley leaned forward, one hand braced on a cushion beside me. “Can I kiss you, Nick?” My heart pounded so hard that it managed to get my breath going again. “I don't think that's a good—” “I won't hurt you,” he said, brushing our noses together once, twice, then pulling back. He must have seen the skepticism on my face, because he grinned. “I won't.” Smooth lips skimmed my cheek. “This time I'll be better.” His warm body spread my legs apart as he eased closer. “I'll be gentle, slower. I'll give you whatever it is you need.” Give me whatever I needed. No one had ever made that offer before. I hadn't even realized I'd lifted my head until his mouth was on mine. Gentle. Slow. Just like he'd promised. His teeth grazed my lower lip as one of his big hands slid behind my head. When I gasped, his tongue darted out to soothe the little nip.

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This time I had a chance to really taste him, and I leaned deeper into the kiss. I smiled against his mouth when I recognized the peppermint flavor. He must have been eating the candy before he fell asleep. Riley broke the kiss, drawing a faint moan out of me, and pressed our foreheads together. “How was that?” I hadn't found my words yet, so I gave him a slight nod. “Give me another chance?” Lifting a trembling hand, I curled my fingers into the collar of his shirt. “What exactly do you want from me, Riley?” “I want to do things right this time,” he murmured, long fingers skimming along my thigh. “I want to go out with you.” My legs spread wider as I tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer, burying my nose in the crook of his shoulder. The woodsy cologne he wore made my head spin. “Out? A date?” “Yeah,” he answered, his voice gruff as he rubbed himself against me. “A date. Right now.” “Right now,” I parroted, not really aware of what was coming out of my mouth. “Okay.” He blew out a harsh breath and jumped to his feet. “Let's go.” I blinked, sorting through our conversation. “Go where?” Riley checked his watch. “After three,” he said, glancing up. “Pancakes?” He was serious! “I…” “Go out on a date with me, Nick.” He held out his hand. “Please.” I chuckled, realizing he'd just spelled it out for me in case I still didn't understand what was happening. “Sure.” Taking his hand, I let him help me up. “Better than popcorn, at any rate.” His brow furrowed. “What?”

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“Never mind.” I walked past him, intending to get my laptop from his cubicle. “What place did you have in mind? Should I meet you there?” He followed me, keeping his distance. “Actually, I live about five minutes from here, so I didn't bring a car. Can I hitch a ride? It would be easier to give you directions if I'm next to you, anyway.” Riley Jameson alone with me in a car. This should be interesting. “All right.” I picked up my case and hooked it onto my shoulder, pausing when I saw he wasn't dressed for the February weather. “I can wait while you get your coat.” “Didn't bring one, so I'm ready to go.” I frowned. “It's twenty degrees outside.” “Cold doesn't affect me like it used to.” That wicked grin I always associated with trouble appeared on his mouth. “Good thing, too, since the night you ran out on me I had to sneak home naked.” My lips parted. That's right—he'd torn right out of his clothing when he grew. And I never once wondered how he managed to get home. Riley stared down at me a moment, tilting his head to the side. “Aroused or wigged-out? This time I can't tell.” Breaking his gaze, I strode toward the elevator. “Little of both,” I said, struggling to be honest about my feelings. What I knew of them, anyway. He followed me into the box and leaned against the wall beside me. “You really are cute, Nick.” Cute. Pretty. Maybe this was my lot in life. As I hit the button for the lobby, I reasoned there were worse things. Still, I wished— “You okay?” asked Riley, his voice laced with insecurity. I forced the tension from my body and lied once again. “I'm fine.” Some things I wasn't ready to share. Hands tucked behind the small of his back, he moved closer to me. “What kind of pancakes do you like?”

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Pancakes. Probably the safest first date in history, but I found myself excited at the prospect. “Blueberry.” Or maybe it was just the idea of spending time outside of work with Riley.

***** “Here you go, sweetie.” Riley glanced up in surprise when the waitress placed a stack of pancakes in front of him. “I didn't order this.” “On the house.” She patted his cheek. “Big guy like you needs seconds.” His gaze flicked to me, then back to her. “Ah, thanks.” “No problem, sugar.” She walked back to the kitchen. She didn't glance at me. Swirling my fork around my plate, I raked four-tiered patterns into the blueberry syrup. “Nick?” I looked up. “Hmm?” He pushed his plate to the middle of the table. “Split this with me. I can't finish it all.” Our late-night date had been nice, enough that I felt comfortable teasing him. “But it was a gift just for you, sugar.” A scowl twisted his face. “I hate that shit,” he muttered. “People are always trying to give me stuff because of the way I look now.” My fork clattered to the tabletop as I snickered into my fist. “It's true!” “I believe it,” I assured him, trying to stifle my laughter. “What gets me is that you're trying to convince me you don't like it.” “I don't.”

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Shit. I was going to cause a scene if I didn't get ahold of myself soon. “Right.” Riley sighed and held up his hands. “Okay, I used to like it a hell of a lot.” He dropped his palms to the table. “But it gets old after a while, everyone trying to get my body. People feel like it's cool to touch me whenever they want.” I paused, my smile fading. “You know what that feels like, don't you?” asked Riley, leaning forward on his elbows. “I see everyone doing the same to you at the office.” Shaking my head, I pushed my plate to the edge of the table. I had sense enough not to point out that he'd done his fair share of touching too. “Different reasons regarding me.” “It's not different,” said Riley, drumming his knuckles against the table. “They do it to you for the same reasons they do it to me.” I let my mouth crook as I pointed to the plate between us. “I'm not the one who got free pancakes.” “Her?” He rolled his eyes. “I guarantee she would have given you something too if you—” He snapped his mouth shut. “If I what?” His left hand joined his right, tapping a complicated rhythm as he looked at me. “I don't want to tell you.” Given that tonight seemed to be the night for confessions, his denial took me by surprise. “Why not?” “Because right now you're clueless.” His fingers tapped faster. “And I want to keep you to myself for a little while.” My eyes rounded. Soft vibrations went through the soles of my shoes, and I knew he had to be thumping his feet as well. “Is that okay?” he asked. “Just you and me for a couple of weeks?”

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I watched his body language for a while, entranced. And the more I watched, the more complex his patterns became. Two taps on one hand, a rapid drum from the other. Three, drum, five, drum, eight, drum. His feet marked a pause, and then the whole thing started again from the beginning. A goddamned Fibonacci sequence, and sexy as hell. “Nick?” I glanced up. “You fidget a lot when you're nervous.” He scowled at his fingers as if they'd deliberately betrayed him. “Yeah,” he said, still tapping away. “Not all of us can be as cool as you.” My gaze dipped to his hand as it repeated the sequence. Did he know? I didn't get that impression from him. “Me? I had a nervous breakdown just over two hours ago.” One, one, two. “You flipped out for twenty minutes, tops. And that was personal.” Three, five, eight. Reset. “It doesn't matter what kind of crisis hits the company; you're always on top of it, always smoothing it out.” A smile tugged at my lips, but I was more turned on by this pattern than by what he was actually saying. The Fibonacci sequence was tailor-made for Riley. It grew slowly at first, but because you added the two previous numbers to get the next, it got very big, very quickly. It fit his growth, fit his intensity. It was perfect. What were the odds? Jesus, for once I couldn't calculate them. “Riley.” I paused, waiting for the reset. “Be still.” His body went quiet. “Sorry.” “Don't be.” I looked into his eyes and grinned, knowing I had to see more, to find out what other patterns he had hidden inside of him. “Two weeks is fine. Just you and me.” He blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “You won't regret it, Nick.”

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I removed my wallet and pulled out a credit card, signaling the waitress. “Five o'clock. The sun will be rising soon.” “Hey.” Riley reached out and caught my wrist. “I should pay—I'm the one who asked you out.” His warm fingers were curled loosely around me, and I didn't feel threatened by the gesture. “Riley, I make two-point-three-eight times more than you.” Shock flickered across his face. “Really? That much?” “I'm very good at my job.” He chuckled. “Yeah, you are. But I—” I handed my card to the waitress. “Don't worry about it.” “Fine.” Riley let go of me and hooked his arm over the back of the booth. “I'll pay you back another way.” This time, I was acutely aware of the heat creeping into me. The tops of my ears. The base of my neck. Even my mouth was starting to open. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. The waitress returned with my card and receipt. I stuttered a thank-you, signing my name while Riley slid from the booth and stretched his body. His muscles strained his shirt, his slacks, and the material practically sighed in relief when he relaxed. “Time to go?” he asked. I stood on shaky legs and nodded. Smiling, still keeping his distance, Riley followed me to the car. He gave me directions to his place, and in between turns we talked about work, about the music playing on the radio, about the weather. Everyday things. It felt good.

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I pulled into his complex's parking lot, peering through the windshield to stare up at the high-rise. Logan Luxury. I didn't even qualify to get on the waiting list for this place. “You live here?” “I'm a trust-fund kid—that's what I tried to tell you at the diner.” He tugged at his shirt. “It's why I can afford new clothes all the time.” His hand skimmed my cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “You make more than me, but when it comes to cash, I'm definitely worth more.” What the…? One thing clicked into place right away as I stared at his apartment complex. “Wait.” I snapped my gaze back to him and grabbed his forearm. “This watch. It's a real Cartier?” Riley blinked, then burst into laughter. “Yeah. Like it? I can get you one if you want.” “N-no, thank you,” I said awkwardly. “My current rule is not to wear watches worth more than what I drive.” As more of his laughter filled the car, I tried to sort it out. I knew he'd gone to Harvard, but so had a lot of people in the company, and most of them were years from paying off their loans. “If you can wear a watch like that and live in a place like this”—I switched off the ignition and turned my head—“why do you work for me?” He shrugged. “Promised my dad. I was a wild kid, and he said I needed to develop a 'proper work ethic.'” “You?” I grinned, suddenly a lot more relaxed. “Wild?” Chuckling, Riley set his wrist against my headrest, stroking the curve of my ear with his thumb. “Hard to believe, right?” “Impossible,” I teased. Still smiling, he leaned a little closer. “I didn't care about the job at first. Just figured I'd stick it out for a few years and quit. Then I saw how much you loved what you did, and all at once I wanted to love it too.”

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My lips parted. His gaze dipped to my mouth as his voice went soft. “What are you doing tomorrow?” “You mean today?” “Whatever. Yeah.” I started to lean back against the headrest, bumped into his hand, and straightened. “Have to go in to work. There are a few projects I need to tie up before Monday.” Riley seemed to hesitate, then let his fingers skim the nape of my neck. “Would things go faster if I helped?” A few months ago I would have gently declined his offer because his mistakes would only have slowed me down. But his work had improved so much lately that now I was grateful he wanted to help. “Having you there could increase productivity by”—I paused, considering—“thirty, forty percent.” He dipped a finger into my collar. “Then we can go out for dinner?” “I don't see why not. After all that work, we certainly deserve—” I stopped short when I caught his real meaning. “Another date?” “Another date,” he confirmed, winking at me. Then he blew out a breath and drew away to open the car door. “See you tomorrow, Nick.” Keys in hand, I got out as well. Riley paused in surprise. “What are you doing?” I gestured toward the front of the building. “Walking you to the door.” In one quiet moment, everything about Riley softened. “How long has it been since you've been on a date?” “A while,” I admitted, absently scratching my ear. “Although, given the events of the last few weeks, I've probably been on hundreds without knowing it.” His chuckles warmed the cold air between us.

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I stared at the ground, scuffing a patch of brown snow away from my tire. “Is being old-fashioned out of style again? Hard to keep up these days, but I've always liked walking the other person to the door. Those last few seconds of conversation, the good-bye that's often as awkward as it is giddy.” The goodnight kiss. “Making sure they're safely inside.” My foot stilled. “I guess that last one doesn't apply here. You don't need my protect—” Strong hands spun me around and pinned me back against the car. “Hot,” murmured Riley, nuzzling the curve of my shoulder. “Old-fashioned is fucking hot.” My breath caught as I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and yanked him closer. Riley groaned. “Want you. Dying for it.” He sucked kisses up my neck, nipped at my ear. “I'd drag you inside if you walked me to the door.” His hands roamed my body, sliding into my coat, skimming around to cup my ass. “Forget inside. Could fuck you right here.” My entire body started, and Riley muttered a string of curses as he ripped himself away from me. “Sorry,” he said, breathing hard as he raked a hand through his hair. “Going in now.” He didn't move, and I stared at the puffs of warm air streaming out of his mouth. I was in a similar state, and I struggled to get control of myself. “Yeah,” said Riley, reaching out to brush a thumb over my lips. “Going.” “You said that already,” I whispered. He nodded, the movement shaky as he took a step back. “I'll see you tomorrow,” he said, walking away. I shivered, the world several degrees colder without his presence. I wasn't good at relationships, and I was out of my element here. Common sense told me to take it slow, to analyze the situation and… “Riley!” He spun.

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My mouth worked, but I couldn't get the words out. Too bold, too direct. I wasn't ready. Instead I tried a roundabout way of getting to him. “Do you…do you have any roommates?” Seconds ticked by, and I got the impression he was trying to puzzle me out. “No.” He isn't getting it. “So…no one would be bothered i-if you had a guest?” Another few seconds, and then a smile tugged at his lips as he walked back toward me. “Want to come up for a drink?” “Yes,” I breathed, relieved and thinking I could settle for a drink. “That would be nice.” Riley took my hand and drew me against his body. “And breakfast?” I tipped my head all the way back to look at him. “We just had—” “I can think of a few ways to work up an appetite.” “O-oh.” He'd figured out exactly what I'd wanted, after all. Looping his arm around my shoulders, he guided me to his building. His fingers played with my ear, warming the outer shell, warming me. The doorman didn't even blink as he opened the door for us, and I leaned into Riley's body, trying to be subtle as I took in his scent and strength. The elevator ride was filled with teasing kisses and little nips. He removed my coat while I untucked his shirt. I caressed his stomach, and the muscles there tensed into hard, distinct bricks. “Feels so good,” murmured Riley, lifting me up, holding me close as he walked out of the elevator. “Can't get enough.” My back thumped against the wall beside his door, and he held me there as he fumbled for his keys. “Same,” I managed to rasp out. Riley groaned, carrying me into his apartment. My eyes drifted shut. I lost myself in his touch. This time there was no fear, no tangled, twisted emotion. Only pleasure and white-hot need. I had a feeling I was going to want a lot more than two weeks.

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***** I sat on Greg's sofa as he worked at his desk. Both pieces of furniture were identical to the ones I had in my own office, which was why I'd picked them out. In the early days, I'd copied everything he did. Greg kept his gaze locked on his laptop, typing steadily. “Don't you have work to do?” “Yes,” I answered, watching him. “But…” He paused and looked up at me. “What are you doing here, Nick? I've left you alone. Isn't that what you wanted?” I miss you. “Maybe we could do lunch today.” “Why?” I winced. “I thought we were friends.” “I hurt you.” “You did.” “And you still want to be friends?” “You didn't hurt me deliberately, and I didn't know we were dating. We both fucked up. Can't we just call it a mutual loss and move on?” His mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “If you don't mind having a late lunch, I can probably clear my schedule.” Relieved, I rose to my feet. “Two o'clock?” He picked up a pen and made a note of it. “All right.” My eyebrow lifted. “I never understood those paper notes you make. They seem like a waste of time, since you don't forget anything.” Greg cast me a teasing, sidelong glance. “We're friends again for all of five seconds, and you're making fun of me?” “N-no, nothing like that. But if you're going to write it down, wouldn't using the calendar on your computer be better?”

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“Ink is more personal,” he murmured, setting his pen aside. “I use it for anything worth remembering.” I stopped short. This lunch. He was showing me it was important to him. “Oh. Thanks.” He returned his attention to the project on his computer. “See you at two, Nick.” Dismissed, just like old times. I made a face and left, waving at him over my shoulder as I walked through his door. When I got to my office, the first thing I noticed was the shiny red apple sitting on my desk. Picking it up, I turned it over in my hands, wondering who'd left it. “Figured you could use a snack, since you had to skip breakfast this morning.” I spun, my eyes rounding when I saw Riley leaning on the wall next to my door, his arms folded over his broad chest, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “How long have you been there?” “About fifteen minutes.” His gaze roved over me. “Since you went into Morris's office.” Riley watched everything I did. I should have realized he'd see me. He stared down at his feet. “Was going to leave it and go back to my desk, but I was wondering—” “We were just talking.” “He didn't—” “No. We understand each other now, and we're having lunch today to smooth things over.” He glanced up, grinning. “So I still have my two weeks?” I made a show of glancing at my watch. “By my count, you have six days left.”

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The tension vanished from his body as he gracefully pushed himself forward from the wall. “You like my gift?” “Apple for the teacher?” I asked, holding up the fruit in my hand. His brow furrowed. “Actually I was trying to get you to think of forbidden fruit. Temptation. That kind of thing.” He certainly was a temptation, and as my subordinate he was technically also forbidden, but I pretended to be unmoved as I walked toward my window. “Then you should have included a detailed explanation.” I took a bite out of my apple. “A handwritten note, perhaps. That would have been…memorable.” Long arms wrapped around me from behind. “You know what cracks me up? That you can talk like that even when your ears are bright red.” “Leave my ears out of this,” I murmured, staring out the window even as I settled back against him. “They are in no way an accurate measurement of my emotional state.” Riley chuckled. “Do you realize you're only four years older than me? Sometimes you talk like an old man, even when we're away from work.” He caressed my cheek, catching my gaze through the window. “Why do you sound that way?” I started to look away, and his hand on my cheek firmed. “I don't know,” I said finally, trying to be honest. After being in the habit of lying for so long, I was finding it harder than expected to be straightforward with my feelings. He grinned, rubbing his body against mine. “Do I make you feel young?” I burst into laughter and nodded. Riley paused, staring down at me. “What is it?” I asked, my laughter fading. “You're laughing more now. It's a great sound.” Riley didn't have any trouble expressing himself. I envied him. “You shouldn't hold me this way in the office. Anyone could walk in.”

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“Right.” He let his arms drop to his sides. “The open-door policy ass-hat's always complaining about.” “Don't call him that.” I turned and glanced up. “He's my friend.” His mouth crooked. “That's cool. You working late tonight?” “Yes, but tomorrow I plan to leave at a decent hour, and we can go out—” “I'll stay.” “Riley, you've been staying with me every night. All your projects are current, so go home today.” “I'll stay,” he repeated, his tone absolute. “Look out for you.” Look out for what? Getting molested? “I can take care of myself.” He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Most of the guys here are bigger than you.” He shook his head. “None of them are bigger than me.” And there it was. Over the last week, Riley had been more than gentle, more than attentive to my needs. He'd also been hyperprotective, wanting to keep me safe in every situation. Did I really look so breakable? “We'll discuss this later,” I said curtly, walking to my desk. For the first time, I noticed the message light on my phone was blinking, but that was nothing new. “Nick.” I glanced up. “Not now.” Riley held his ground a moment, then strode out of my office. I snapped my phone from its cradle and checked my messages. The usual updates, requests for help, panic that the sky was falling. It all seemed fairly routine, and I was set to relax until I heard the final message in the queue. “Mr. Carlyle, this is Sandy Clifford, Donald Grayson's executive assistant. Please return my call at extension one-one-two at your earliest convenience.”

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Donald Grayson was our chief financial officer. What the hell would the CFO want with me? Swallowing hard, I dialed the extension. Sandy Clifford—in calm, clipped tones—explained to me that Mr. Grayson wanted to see me and had an opening at ten thirty this morning, if that was convenient. “Ten thirty?” I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes? “That's fine. Where should I meet him?” “His office, room twelve-oh-one on the twelfth floor. Ms. Warren will be present as well.” All the heat drained from my skin. “The chief operations officer?” “Yes, sir.” “What…what is this about?” “It's not my place to say, sir.” Not her place to say? This was out of nowhere. How was I supposed to prepare! “Thank you.” “Have a nice day, Mr. Carlyle.” She hung up. I dropped the phone into its cradle and took a deep breath. All right. My team was working at top efficiency; my own work was flawless, as far as I knew. Maybe they just wanted to pat me on the back. I stood and paced to the other side of the room. I knew damned well that no one in top-tier management would bother with me if they had good news to deliver. My work has been flawless. My work… What if I'd missed something? Something subtle? Something with ramifications I didn't foresee? Little errors had a tendency to do that in companies as big as this one. One misplaced decimal point or one extra zero could crash the books for a fiscal quarter. Longer.

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My stomach lurched. “Calm down, Carlyle,” I whispered. “Clifford didn't give you any indication that something was wrong, did she?” No, of course she wouldn't. She was an executive assistant. At that level, she faced more pressures than I did, and she'd be trained to handle everything calmly. I straightened, checking the knot in my tie, the fit of my suit jacket. I was excellent at what I did. No reason to expect bad news. Could just as easily be good. All I had to do was go to the top floor and— My stomach lurched again. My throat constricted as I fought down a gag reflex. I ran for it, throwing open my door. Melanie clutched a folder to her chest, her eyes wide. “Boss, I was just coming to see—” Clenching my teeth, I held up a finger and strode past her. I managed to keep my pace somewhat dignified as I made my way to the restrooms, but as soon as I was inside, I broke into another run and dropped to my knees in front of the closest toilet. I grabbed the porcelain, every muscle in my body going rigid as I expelled the contents of my stomach into the bowl again and again. I'd only taken a few bites of apple today. Where is all this coming from? A warm hand stroked my forehead, smoothed back my hair. I jerked away from the touch, but a powerful arm banded around my chest. “Shh,” said Riley, “I've got you.” I shuddered in his hold, and the hand in my hair moved downward to rub against my back. My stiff muscles started to relax. The retching faded. I started to slump forward, but Riley drew me against his body, keeping me from cracking my head against the bowl. “Did I give you a bad apple?” he asked, his long arm reaching past me to flush the toilet.

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Thank God for that—I didn't think I could endure the smell without getting sick again. Shaking my head, I fought the urge to curl into him. “Got some b-bad news.” He pulled me closer, holding me in his arms like a child. “Oh?” I couldn't do this. Not now. “Meeting in five minutes,” I mumbled, trying to crawl out of his embrace. Riley stood, taking me up with him and setting me on my feet. “What sort of meeting?” Leaning down, I turned on the water and rinsed out my mouth. When I was as clean as I could get, I stood straight to take stock of myself in the mirror. Great. I ran a hand through my hair and smoothed down my clothing. I look like I'm going to a funeral. “The kind where I'll likely get fired.” “What?” He fell forward a step. “Why?” Worn-out, I turned off the faucet and glanced at him. “No idea. The higher-ups called me in out of the blue.” He frowned. “But you don't know the reason for it?” “I'm about to find out.” Riley broke into a smile. “Want a good-luck kiss?” Had he lost his mind? “Riley, I just threw up.” “So?” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to my forehead. Then he gave me a push toward the bathroom door. “Go on. You'll do fine.” I felt as if I'd just been sent to school by my father, and I turned, stunned, as I looked into Riley's eyes. He grinned. “What is it?” This…wasn't going to work. “Riley, we have to talk.”

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“About what you said in your office. I know.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a peppermint, and pushed it into my hand. “But you have a meeting to get to now, right?” Shit. “Right.” I headed for the door, paused, and looked over my shoulder. “Thanks,” I said, popping the mint into my mouth. He winked at me, and I rushed out of the restroom. By my watch, I ended up in front of Grayson's office a full minute ahead of time. I took thirty seconds to finish off my candy, to clear my head, to practice my fake smile so it wouldn't slip with good or bad news. When I thought I was ready, I glanced at a large desk not far from me. A woman I assumed to be Sandy Clifford waved me in, talking to someone on her earpiece. Probably letting the people inside know that I'd arrived. No turning back now. I opened the door and walked in. Donald Grayson and Emily Warren stood in front of a massive oak desk, both of them wearing suits that cost more than all mine put together. From moment one, I knew I was out of my league here, but I stood patiently, waiting for them to start. “Ah, Carlyle,” said Warren, glancing up from the smartphone in her hand. I noticed absently it looked a lot like the one Riley carried. “We were just talking about you.” Thoughts of Riley scattered as my heart skipped a beat, but I nodded my head. “Ms. Warren.” I shifted my gaze to the man next to her. “Mr. Grayson.” He absently waved my words away. “Call me Donald.” First names? That couldn't possibly mean bad news, right? “Thank you, Donald.” “I gather that means you can call me Emily,” murmured Warren, setting aside her phone.

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I nodded. There seemed to be a note of humor in her tone, but I thought it better to play it safe for now. “May I ask why I've been called here?” “We've been studying your record with us over the past five years,” said Donald. “Oh?” I asked, my tone level and my expression mildly curious. He grinned. “You've done a lot of truly impressive work.” My knees nearly gave out, I was so relieved, but I kept my expression bland. “Thank you, sir.” Emily nodded. “We mean it, Nick. You've doubled the efficiency of every department you've ever worked in. Currently global consolidation is the most productive group within the company.” “Even many of our overseas offices are running more smoothly.” Donald crossed his arms over his chest. “That's what initially caught our attention. We were trying to figure out what accounted for the improvement, and all trails led to you.” I blinked. “Me, sir?” “Spain, China, Australia. You've helped your peers in those offices a great deal, while managing at the same time to sync them more efficiently with your own department.” He glanced at the woman by his side. “Are we forgetting anything, Emily?” “He has a reputation for being calm under pressure,” she said, her gaze never leaving mine. Calm under pressure? Good thing they hadn't seen me retching into a toilet ten minutes ago. “Quite a list of accomplishments,” said Donald. “However…” I waited, then realized I was expected to prompt him. “However?” “You don't have your master's degree in business.” The statement caught me off guard, and I took a few subtle breaths before I answered. “The company hired me a month after I completed my

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undergraduate studies. I was assured that I wouldn't need another degree to fulfill the tasks required of me.” “That's true,” said Emily, “for the job you have now.” Donald's mouth crooked, just slightly. “But it's company policy to require those in upper-management positions to possess an MBA.” My gaze darted to the older man. “Upper-management positions?” “It is a problem,” commented Emily. “Your talents, skills, and work ethic are valuable assets to this company.” A faint frown creased my brow. Was this good or bad? Donald shook his head. “We can't very well promote him without a degree. What do you suppose we should do, Emily?” The playful note I thought I'd heard before returned, although her face remained dead serious. “I imagine we have no choice but to offer him a full scholarship so he can get it.” The breath died in my chest. “A scholarship?” I whispered. “To the university of your choice.” Donald held up a file. “I would suggest Harvard.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Yale is a much better school, Nick.” Donald smirked, then rubbed his chin. “What's Alex's alma mater?” “Oxford,” she answered. They paused, glanced at each other, then back to me. “Don't go to Oxford,” they said in unison. Alex… They had to be talking about Alexander Benford, the CEO of the company. He was a brilliant man, so I knew they were teasing me. “When…” God, this was too good to be true. “When do I have to choose?” “Anytime within the next year.” Donald handed me the file he'd been holding. “Although we do have a favor to ask of you right now.”

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I wanted to look at the scholarship details, but I tucked the folder beneath my arm. “Of course.” Emily smiled in approval. “The consolidation office in Buenos Aires is sluggish. We'd like you to fly there and streamline their systems, maybe give a seminar or two. You'd be home in under three weeks.” Argentina? “I…” Donald leaned forward. “If you say you can leave tonight, you can take the company jet.” “Yes,” I said quickly, grinning broadly. “I have an appointment at two, but I can pack right after that and be ready to go in plenty of time!” Both Donald and Emily paused, looking at me strangely. Embarrassed, I reined myself in. “I apologize for going overboard with the enthusiasm.” “No,” said Emily, her voice soft. “It's just that you're quite…charismatic.” “Indeed,” murmured Donald before clapping his hands and holding one out to me. “We see great things for you, Nick.” Charismatic? At the moment, I felt awkward as hell. “Th-thank you,” I stammered, shaking his hand. Emily gestured toward the door. “Sandy will let you know what time the plane will be departing. You have a current passport?” I nodded. “Then everything is settled,” said Donald. “Good luck.” Knowing better than to overstay my welcome, I said another thank-you and hurried out of the office. I was leaving for Argentina in a few hours. My fevered mind burned into overdrive as I prioritized what had to be done before then and figured out ways to delegate the rest. Choosing a university for my master's could wait. Everything could wait.

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***** Three weeks later…

I stared at the door to my apartment, gathering the energy to go to inside. It shouldn't be this hard, should it? I was home. I should be relieved. Sighing, I fished out my keys. Argentina had been great. Lots of work to do, everyone hanging on my every word, phenomenal scenery, fantastic food. When they begged me to stay a few extra days, I'd eagerly agreed. After all, it wasn't like there was anyone anticipating my homecoming. Sandy Clifford had assured me that she would inform all relevant personnel of my departure. I'd had a chance to tell them myself when I returned to my office to tie up loose ends, but I'd ended up avoiding all their questions as I delegated each of the projects I'd been working on to the person I thought best suited for them. Even with Riley. I gave him a list of things to do and just…left. I let him think I was coming back after my lunch with Greg, telling myself I'd call him from the airport. But when I'd been at the airport, I couldn't figure out what the hell to say, so I wrote some notes while on the plane, with the intent of calling him from Argentina. By the time I landed, I realized my notes were crap, so I took a little more time, deciding Riley deserved a handwritten letter, not some hurried long-distance phone call. Right? A week and a half later—when I knew exactly what I should say—I realized that a fancy speech or letter probably wasn't necessary anymore. Our relationship, such as it was, had ended on its own. I'd never thought of myself as a coward before, and Riley hadn't deserved that kind of treatment, but it was over now. Nothing I could do. I swung open my door, grunting as I struggled with my suitcases. “Need a little help?”

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My head shot up. Riley stood before me, inside my apartment, his hand hooked over the top of my door. “Wh-what are you doing here?” “Thought you might like to come home to somebody.” He released the door and bent over to take the suitcases from my hands. “Having trouble with these?” Balancing a handle on the fingers of each hand, he winked at me as he walked deeper into my apartment. Dazed, I edged forward, just enough to close the door behind me. After not seeing him for three weeks, I had no resistance to the power of his body. The forest green T-shirt he wore clung to every muscle in his chest and torso, wrapped tight around his shoulders and biceps. I tilted my head to the side as he set my cases on the floor just inside my bedroom, appreciating the snug pair of jeans accenting those long legs, hugging that hard, rounded ass. I realized with a start that I'd never seen him wear jeans before. Riley straightened, smirked when he caught me gawking. “Your suitcases are stuffed to capacity,” he said casually, striding to the sofa. “I hadn't thought you'd be a heavy packer.” Less dazed and more unnerved now, I kept my distance, leaning on the wall farthest from him. “Nearly everyone I worked with in Buenos Aires gave me a gift. I ended up having to buy another bag for it all.” “Gave you gifts, huh?” He turned toward me and sat on the couch. Testing its ability to take his weight, he settled into the cushions, spread his arms along the back, and stretched his feet in front of him. “Sounds like you were pretty popular.” I shook my head, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “How did you get in here?” “Told the landlord I was your boyfriend.” “What?” I actually managed to take a step away from the wall. “And he let you in, just like that?”

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Grinning, he jerked his thumb at my door. “That nice lady from across the hall vouched for me. I guess she's heard us making noise in here.” The thought of sweet Mrs. Everley listening to the sounds I tended to make when I was tangled up with Riley made my skin burn. I glanced away, trying to hide the flush. “How did you even know I was back?” “Everyone knows, Nick. Didn't you think we'd miss you?” I kept my gaze on the floor. “Melanie is more than capable of leading the global consolidation team.” Silence stretched between us, and when I couldn't take it anymore, I lifted my head. Riley sat there, watching me, the smile gone from his mouth, the teasing vanished from his eyes. “It's not about Melanie or anyone else. It's about you.” Those bright, steady eyes were killing me. “Riley—” “No phone calls, no e-mails. If we dug, we could get a few progress reports on how the Buenos Aires office was doing, but there was nothing from you. Not one word while we missed you.” His voice roughened. “Not one word while I missed you.” Swallowing, I fell back on the words I'd so carefully prepared for him. “It never would have worked between us. You and I are too different—we have different goals; we come from different backgrounds. I'm also your boss, and that scenario almost never pans out.” His eyes narrowed into hazel slits. “That's bullshit.” The terse announcement derailed the rest of my speech. “It's not. I've done a lot of thinking, and—” “You're a terrible liar, Nick.” His body didn't move from its seemingly relaxed position. “Tell me the real reason.” A terrible liar? Me? Riley didn't know that he was the only person who'd ever caught on, and now I was trapped. In my own damned apartment.

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He wanted the real reason? Fine. I could tell the truth. “You think I'm weak,” I gritted out. “I liked so many things about you, and there were so many things I wanted to learn, but that was a deal breaker.” Surprise flickered over his face. “I think you've misunderstood me again,” he said softly. “Not this time.” I clenched my fist so hard, it shook. “You're always rushing in for the rescue, calling me cute, and treating me as if I'm going to break. I'm not a man to you. I'm a doll.” His own hands curled into loose fists against the couch. “You've definitely misunderstood me again. I'm just trying to protect you.” “From what?” I shook my head. “You act as if everyone in the world is intent on accosting me. As if they're all about to—” “Because they are!” His thunderous voice tore through the room with such force that I jumped backward, hitting the wall behind me. Breathing hard, Riley leaned forward and propped his forearms against his knees, balling his fists tight between them. “I love you, Nick,” he started, his tone hard and measured as he stared at the floor, “but you are a pain in the fucking ass sometimes.” Everything inside of me went still. “L-love?” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You're in your office all day, so you have no idea what I have to listen to out there in the cubicles. Everyone—everyone—is scheming to get into your pants.” He glanced up. “You think Melanie's so innocent, but she's always cooing over your tight little body. Jeff's supposed to be straight, but he goes on and on about how big your eyes are.” Riley's backhanded declaration of love had sent my mind reeling. Had he meant it? Or had it been a more casual use of the word? “You're jealous.” He snorted, his hands still clenched. “The only time I was ever jealous was when you started dating Morris. You seemed to like him a lot.”

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I paused, realizing it hadn't just been Greg who'd gotten the wrong impression. “Did I?” “You smiled whenever he was around,” he muttered. “It was hard as hell when I tried to get you grinning. I didn't care about anyone else, because you seemed to have a thing for big guys, and I didn't have any competition there.” He certainly didn't. Although, truthfully, I hadn't thought much about what I liked and didn't like until I met Riley. I wanted to tell him that just thinking about him often made me smile, but I needed to keep this discussion on track. “If you're not jealous, then why are you so protective?” His gaze narrowed. “Do you really think me and Morris are the only ones who'll make a move? It keeps me up at night, thinking you might get hurt.” I stiffened. Despite what he'd said, he did think I was weak. “I can take care of myself, Riley.” “You can take care of yourself, but you don't. Because you don't know what flirting looks like, you aren't aware of all those hungry eyes locked on your body.” His fists finally began to loosen; the spirit began to seep out of him. “I worry, okay? I have to watch you like a hawk because…because you just don't know.” For the first time, I noticed there were shadows under his eyes. He looked tired, drained. And it was my fault. So I tried to fix it the only way I knew how. “Riley, the statistics clearly show that men under six feet are considered less—” Groaning, he slumped deeper into my sofa and let his head tip back. “Stats, numbers, figures. You're brilliant, Nick, but you're blind.” He lowered his head, moving slowly, letting his gaze rove my face, my body. “You can't quantify yourself with a formula.” “But”—my voice dropped to a whisper—“formulas are all I know.” His face softened. “So cute,” he murmured, then shook himself out of it when I winced. “But you have to be careful now. Things have gotten so much worse since you got your flu shot.”

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I frowned, more and more sure I'd made the right decision. “Being five foot eight doesn't mean I'm not strong enough to protect myself.” “I'm not talking about the shrinking,” he snapped, the weariness reappearing around his eyes. “You were always something special. I saw it the second I met you. But when you got inoculated…everything good about you was concentrated, then amped.” His body tensed. “Even now, I'm fighting the urge to touch you.” If the wall hadn't been behind me, I would have backed away from him. “Wh-what?” Gritting his teeth, he glanced away. “I never read about a side effect like that,” I tried. Silence. Was I supposed to figure this out on my own? Was he testing me? “Riley.” He didn't meet my gaze, didn't acknowledge me in any way. My head dropped back against the wall, and I focused on the ceiling. “You have a knack for making me feel stupid,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “I don't understand half the things you do. I can never predict what you're going to do next. And it's not just you—everyone around me is behaving strangely. Greg kissing me. Mr. Grayson and Ms. Warren”—I paused, a nearly forgotten memory coming to mind—“calling me charismatic.” I heard Riley move, but I kept my gaze on the ceiling, not wanting to lose the thread I was unraveling as I continued to think aloud. “The stares. The unsolicited touching. You're saying they don't see me as a child? That maybe they see me as someone they desire?” “That's exactly what I'm saying.” Lowering my head, I found bright eyes locked onto me. “People want me.” “As much as they want me. Maybe more. All you have to do is smile, and it's like someone let the sun in.”

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I chuckled, not really believing it but knowing he did. “You think I'm that appealing?” “Everyone does. You can probably have anyone you want.” The tension crept back into his body as his brow furrowed. “Did you miss me at all in Argentina?” The question caught me off guard, and I stared at him, trying to form words. Riley gave me a short nod. “Got it,” he said, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “None of that's really why I came here anyway. Wanted to hear why you ran away from me again, and I got my answer.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed for the door. “I treat you badly. I make you feel stupid. Deal broken.” He was leaving. He was really— Wait, you were right about me! I didn't understand! “I missed you!” He paused, turned his head. I let the words tumble out of my mouth. No time to plan. No time for pride. “I-I thought about you all the time. During presentations, during one-on-one interviews, during meals. I kept wondering what you were doing. I kept wanting to hear your voice.” His mouth crooked in a lopsided smile. I wasn't sure what the smile meant, but he was still in my apartment. That was all that mattered. “I couldn't imagine coming back to work, seeing you day after day. I accepted my scholarship and chose Harvard, but the term doesn't start until fall. So I asked Ms. Warren and Mr. Grayson if they had any more projects that could use my skill set in the interim. So I wouldn't have to look at you.” Riley's eyes rounded. “You're not coming back to global consolidation?” I shook my head. “And after I earn my master's, I'll start work on a different level within the company. We'd probably never even see each other.”

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The color drained from his skin. “Never?” I fell forward a step. “I thought you… I believed we weren't right for…” I swallowed hard, trying to sort out what I needed to say. “But this could be better, couldn't it? You wouldn't work for me anymore. We could…” My heart slammed against my chest. “If it's amenable to you, we could…” The grin slowly returned to his mouth. Five minutes ago, I'd been sure I'd made the right decision. But now I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand the idea of him gone from my life. “Riley…did I blow my one shot?” He turned. One step. Two. Farther and farther from the door. “You didn't say good-bye.” My breath hitched as I hurried to make amends. “I was rushed getting my materials together, making sure the team had everything they needed to handle things in my absence.” He closed the distance between us, moving slowly, taking his time. “You didn't say good-bye.” “It was chaos, getting ready.” Be honest. “And…and I was scared to face you.” Riley braced a hand against the wall beside my head and leaned low. “You. Didn't. Say. Good-bye.” My lips parted, and my voice softened when I understood what he needed. “I'm sorry.” He nodded and brushed our noses together. “Good,” he murmured, tasting my lips. “You made me miserable.” I slid my hands to his waist and twisted my fingers into his shirt. “Sorry.” My forehead dropped against his chest. “Sorry.” Riley chuckled, and the sound was warm, welcoming. “Once is enough.” He was teasing, but this time it felt good. I shuddered, my hands tightening in his T-shirt as I tried to drag him against me.

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“Mmm, can't get closer to you, Nick.” He started to pull away. “We'll be fucking if I do.” The heat of his body had addled my mind, and I blinked up at him. “What's wrong with that?” Riley stopped short, lifting an eyebrow. “You just flew in from a different country. Aren't you tired?” “No.” I remembered I was trying to be honest with him and started over. “A little. But not enough that we couldn't…” Shit, I could feel my ears turning scarlet. A slow smile curved his mouth. Then his hand slid over his stomach. “None of the guys in the Buenos Aires office did it for you?” Long fingers dipped into the waistband of his jeans and untucked his shirt. My gaze dropped down to his stomach, entranced by the tan skin he revealed for me, inch by inch. “Why would they?” I whispered, reaching out to skim a finger over his navel. “Right,” he said, humor coloring his voice as his other hand joined the first. Slowly, he pulled the shirt off over his head. “Stupid question.” I didn't understand the joke, but at the moment I didn't really care. Unable to hold myself back, I pressed my body against his, taking in his scent, tasting his chest. My lips brushed against his nipple, and when he shivered, I clamped my mouth around it. Riley fell forward, groaning as he slammed his hand against the wall. “You're the perfect height,” he rasped, pushing himself deeper into my mouth. “Perfect.” I felt his heart pounding against my palm and smiled, moving to his other nipple, rubbing myself against him. I didn't know about perfection, but I couldn't imagine fitting to another man as well as I fit him. Drywall cracked and popped, and my head whipped to the side, my eyes rounding when I saw his powerful fingers tighten into a fist and crush my wall.

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“I'll pay for it,” said Riley, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Don't worry.” Warm breath caressed my skin as he nuzzled his way to the crook of my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I stroked his hair, let my fingers play along his nape. “You didn't grow,” I murmured as I tugged his head lower. His tongue teased the pulse point behind my ear. “You sound disappointed.” “No.” I tilted my head to the side as I enjoyed his mouth. “Just curious.” Riley straightened slightly, smiling as our noses touched again. “Strength builds faster than my muscles, remember?” he told me patiently, sliding a hand into my slacks to cup my ass. “Would take a lot to make me grow bigger than I am now.” “Oh.” I pushed myself to my toes, trying to catch his mouth. He straightened a little more, putting himself just out of my reach. “I can try, if you want.” My brow furrowed. “Try what?” “To get bigger.” His hand firmed on my ass, making me hiss with pleasure. “I'd have to bench-press a truck or something, but I could do it.” I dropped back onto my heels. “Why would you alter your body like that?” “To make you blush a little more.” He skimmed the knuckles of his free hand up my cheek. “To make you smile.” For me? All at once I recognized that look on his face. The same one I'd seen the night I'd caught him sleeping in his cubicle. “Tell me you're impressed.” Even now, he was trying to impress me. Riley always seemed so confident, but for the first time I understood that I affected him as powerfully as he affected me, and the realization eased the last of the tension from my body. “Please, don't. The awe alone would kill me. Besides”—I broke into a grin—“if you grew any bigger, I wouldn't be the perfect height anymore, right?”

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Riley paused, his eyes widening a fraction as he stared down at me. Then he brushed the pad of his thumb over my lips. “You were the perfect size even when I was looking up at you.” His other hand dragged me up to eye level as he straightened. “I don't think it matters how much we change,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “We always seem to fit.” My feet dangled well above the floor, and I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his torso the best I could. “You're damned thick.” I grunted, looping my arms around his neck. “Don't change any more for a while, okay?” Strong arms embraced me, held me close. “Why?” Why? I frowned, pulling back. “Because…because I like how you feel now. I don't want to lose it just yet.” His face softened as he carried me to the couch. “Ah,” he said simply, settling me on his lap and easing the jacket from my shoulders. There was a touch of sadness in him that I couldn't account for. I felt as if I should have said something different. Something more. “Riley?” “Want you,” he murmured, his nimble fingers sliding the tie from my neck, unfastening the buttons of my shirt. I shivered when his hand slid under the material, caressing my waist, my chest. The shirt fell to the floor, and Riley took the opportunity to tease the hollow of my throat with his tongue. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed his mouth, my hips rolling against his as I groaned. Riley tore his mouth away from me and shoved a big hand between us as his body locked tight. Without thinking, I leaned forward to trail kisses down his neck. “Don't stop,” I rasped, dragging my teeth over his shoulder while my fingers sought out his nipples. “Please don't stop.” When he didn't move, I straightened to look at him, my own body falling still. “What's wrong?” Head

bowed,

incomprehensible.

he

shook

his

head

and

mumbled

something

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“Say again?” I asked, threading my fingers through his hair. His jaw tightened. Was it something I'd done? Something I said? Or didn't say? “You have to spell out what you need, Riley. We both know I'm no good at…” My sentence trailed as I caught sight of his ears. Hot. Flaming. Pink. I pulled back slightly, looking him over. His entire body was flushed pink. And the hand he'd shoved between us was covering his crotch. My lips twitched as I traced the curve of his ear with my fingers. “After all this time, you pick now to be shy?” I caressed the hand between us. “Throwing me up against an office window.” I pressed my lips to his temple. “Stripping me down in the elevator before getting to your apartment.” He shuddered, and his breath started to come harder. “I never saw you blush during any of that.” “N-Nick,” he stammered, refusing to meet my gaze. “Slow down. Can't…can't…” I bit hard on his ear, making sure he felt the scrape of my teeth against his skin. “Aw, fuck!” Both his hands flew up to cup my face as he crushed our mouths together. Shit, he tasted good. His mouth was hot while his tongue made mine tingle. Did he live on those mints? The sound of fabric tearing startled me, and I tried to yank myself back. Riley kept his hands on my face, his hold gentle as his warm breath caressed my lips. “Don't look,” he whispered, kissing me again. Slower this time. Tentative, somehow. Shy? I trailed my knuckles down his cheek, trying to ignore the mysterious sound, wanting to make him feel as good as I felt.

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Then his cock pushed against my stomach, throbbing with every beat of his heart. “What the—” This time when I snapped away from him, he let me go. I stared down at his dick, at his torn jeans, and managed to put two and two together. “Oh…” Riley groaned and glanced away from me. “Sorry,” he mumbled, covering his eyes with his hand. “Usually good at controlling myself, but not with you.” His shoulders hunched as the blush all over his body deepened. “I don't have any control when it comes to you.” Not shyness—embarrassment. His other hand began to tap a familiar rhythm against the couch as he kept his gaze averted from me. “Superstrength is such a drag, ya know? Had to replace half my furniture. Just fucked up your wall. And…this. Comic books never talked about how those guys handled hard-ons.” Turning my head, I watched his hand a few moments. Fibonacci sequence again, spread over different fingers. Intricate, graceful. Those same fingers had crushed my wall. Those same fingers had caressed my face. “You're scared, aren't you?” I reached out and took his hand. “No,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his palm. “It's strange and powerful and”—a smile ghosted on my lips as I stroked his cock—“weirdly cute.” His gaze shot to mine, and all the tension vanished from his muscles. “Nice to have another thing in common with you.” He brushed his lips over my forehead, my cheek, my mouth. In common with me… I leaned into him, my hand tightening on his cock as I managed to figure something out on my own, for once. “When you say I'm cute, you're not talking about how I look, are you?”

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He shook his head in the curve of my shoulder, his lips brushing against my neck as he fumbled with the catch in my slacks. My thumb massaged the head of his dick, and he tore the material. “Fuck,” he muttered, lifting his head. “Sorry. I'll pay for this too.” Grinning, I leaned forward and nipped at his lower lip. Riley paused, then smiled against my mouth. Just when he started to deepen the kiss, I slid off his lap to stand in front of him. “Ah, Nick,” he said, breathing hard as he watched me remove my pants. “You're killing me.” I lifted an eyebrow, glanced at his jeans. Catching my point, he hopped off the couch. “They're ruined anyway.” He pushed his jeans and underwear down his thick thighs and dragged them off his feet. “Don't know how I'm going to get home.” “You managed to get home stark naked from the office just fine,” I teased. He muttered something about my not being cute anymore as he straightened to his full height. My smile faded as I tried to take in the massive scope of him. It was difficult to comprehend the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his body. All of it hard and strong, with deeply cut lines and exquisite swells. He filled the room, my senses. I started to feel fragile again. Riley dropped to his knees, bringing himself eye level with me. “Love your body.” He curved his big hands around my waist and drew me closer so he could taste my chest, my stomach. My knees began to buckle, and I leaned on his shoulders for support. A low rumble of approval flowed out of him as he palmed my chest. “Your heart's beating so fast.” “Like a rabbit's?” I asked softly. He nodded, stroking the backs of my thighs and licking my nipples.

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Slowly I was beginning to understand that Riley had been telling the truth when he said he'd never make fun of me. Trailing my fingers down the swell of his chest, I pressed my hand flat over his heart. “Yours is beating fast too.” He wrapped long arms around me and held me close. “You finally noticed, huh?” My eyes drifted shut as I explored the contours of his back. The muscles there entranced me, expanding and contracting beneath my hands with every breath. Riley gripped my waist and picked me up to set me on the couch. Spreading my legs, he took the head of my prick into his mouth and slid all the way to the base in one stroke. I tangled my fingers in his hair and groaned, my head rocking back with the force of the pleasure he gave me. My thighs shook when he sucked me hard, brushed his thumb over my balls. My eyes flew open when he pulled up, concentrating on the head of my cock, swirling his tongue around the rim and cap. “Holy—” That mint. The fucking peppermint that was always on his tongue! The cool snap of it was just now hitting my dick, sending shivers through my whole body as I arched my hips deeper into his mouth. Riley hummed his own pleasure, sending faint vibrations through my cock. God, this was too much. His mouth was hot and cold. His hands were gentle in the midst of the storm that raged through me. He was twisting me up, like always, and I clawed at his shoulders, trying to bring him onto the couch with me. Riley released my dick and lifted his head, his eyes heavy-lidded and smoky as a smile played on his lips.

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My breath caught, and I touched my mouth to his. I could taste my own arousal on his tongue, laced with mint. Groaning, I sucked him deeper, wanting more of him, wanting him to have more of me. Kneading my thighs, Riley eased back, licking my lower lip, then working his way down my neck, following the center line down my chest, my abs. His tongue slid along the rigid length of my cock, and I curled forward, clutching at his broad body. “Inside me,” I begged, my voice ragged and low. “Please.” He sucked kisses along the sensitive skin on my inner thighs. “No.” Surprised, I straightened. “No?” “You probably didn't fuck anyone in Argentina,” he said, still tasting my skin. My body stiffened. “I didn't sleep with anyone.” He seemed to think I'd had plenty of offers in Buenos Aires, but he was wrong. It had been mostly work, and what little free time I'd had was filled with different members of the office kind enough to take me sightseeing, accompany me to dinner, show me the local nightlife… Oh. I forced the tension out of my body, knowing now why he kept bringing up Argentina. “I'm clean, Riley,” I told him, unsure if he'd believe me. If I were in his place, I probably wouldn't believe me. He surged forward, his mouth on my neck as he gripped the couch on each side of my head. “Not worried about that.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “The first time we had sex, you were unsteady on your feet the next day.” His lips skimmed my cheek. “Three weeks is a long time. Wouldn't want a repeat of that night.” I turned my head to look into his eyes. “You're worried about hurting me?” “Promised I never would, remember?” His fingers stroked along the throbbing flesh of my cock.

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I gasped, wrapping my arms around him and pumping my hips against his fist. “I don't have work tomorrow.” I swore as I tried to keep myself from coming into his hand. “I don't start school for months.” He chuckled against me, torturing me with his hand. “That gives us plenty of time to take it slow. You old-fashioned guys like that kind of thing, right?” Whimpering, I loosened my hold on him, letting myself slide back to the couch cushions. Riley grinned, kneeling before me on the floor as he spread my thighs again. His lips closed around the head of my dick, and his tongue rippled against the underside of my cock as he sucked me down to the base. The pressure built as my balls tightened and my stomach clenched. I felt wrenched from the inside out and gritted my teeth, wanting more as I arched my back off the couch, trying to hold on a little longer. A warm, heavy hand covered my abdomen and slid up my body, making me moan as I tried to split my attention between two separate sources of pleasure. I could barely comprehend what was happening when Riley brushed his middle finger over my lips. I just opened my mouth and sucked. Riley's mouth moved faster up and down my dick, jacking the ecstasy so high that I almost didn't register his hand pulling away from my face and his fingers dancing along my body. My muscles strained with the effort of keeping his rhythm, and I called his name again and again. Begging, mostly. I didn't care about holding on anymore; I just wanted him to put me out of my misery. I'd forgotten about his hand until it curved under my ass. The finger that had been in my mouth searched out my hole, its still-wet tip rubbing against my pucker before easing inside. “Fuck!” I cried, my body drawing so tight that I thought it was going to snap in two. Riley's finger found that hot spot inside of me, and I lost it, bucking against his face and his hand, not knowing which way was up as I came into his mouth.

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He swallowed and sucked me harder. I shot another load, and he dragged another out of me. The waves of pleasure racked me from head to toe, easing off only when he pulled his finger from my hole and lifted his head. I dropped onto the couch cushions, shaking hard as I gasped for breath. “Hey.” Riley leaned forward, dipping his head to catch my gaze. “Are you okay?” I gave him an unsteady nod. His brow furrowed as he caressed my cheek, then drew his hand back to show me what he saw. It took me a second to realize my face was wet. Tears. “Shit,” I whispered, touching my face. “I d-don't know why that happens when I'm with you.” Riley stared at me a long moment, and then a slow smile curved his lips. “Feel good?” “Yeah,” I told him, rubbing at my eyes, trying to stop them from watering. “I really don't know why—” Strong hands closed around my wrists and drew my hands away from my face. The smile was still on Riley's mouth as he tugged me off the couch and into his arms. The shaking eased; so did the tears. The smell of his sweat, the warmth of his body against mine—it all felt right. I'd been thirsting after something vital for weeks and hadn't realized it was him. I trailed my hand between us and curled my fingers around his cock. It was still hot and hard. Ready for me. Every muscle in Riley's body jumped. “Y-you don't have to—” “Need to,” I murmured, stroking down to the base of him as my tongue darted out to lick his shoulder—salt from his perspiration and, underneath that, the taste that was uniquely Riley. He groaned, burying his face in my hair.

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His cock twitched against my palm, and I tightened my grip, quickened my pace. Riley's hands trembled as they skimmed along my back. “Close?” I asked, giving the shoulder I'd been kissing a sharp bite. He hissed into my hair, and I cupped his balls in my free hand. Big. Heavy. I squeezed gently while pumping his cock. The shaft spasmed in my fingers, and I squeezed a little harder, pumped a little faster. “Nick,” he rasped. My thumb slid to the underside of his cock and pressed hard against the indentation in its head. “Nick!” His body rocked back, and his hands slammed against the floor behind him. He growled my name again, bucking his hips as he shot his load, knocking me off his lap. Riley caught me before I hit the floor, his arms wrapping tight as he eased himself on top of me. He crushed his mouth to mine, quaking as he came in another hot burst. I barely noticed the wetness on my leg as I lost myself in his kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. And, of course, that trace of peppermint. Riley's mouth gentled as his body began to relax. He brushed our lips together, kissed my cheek, murmured nonsense words into my ear. I echoed him in exhausted whispers, relishing the cool hardwood of the floor at my back and the warm body pressing against my chest. Lifting his head, Riley reached out and grabbed a shirt, then swiped both our bodies clean. “That's my shirt,” I commented, not really caring as I stretched beneath him. “Yeah, well, I only have one set of clothes.” He tossed the shirt aside. “And I've already messed up my jeans.”

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I chuckled as he settled next to me and ran a slow hand up and down my body. It felt so good that I let my mind drift, staring at his chest, his arm, while he caressed me. Riley paused, then hooked my chin with his forefinger, grinning at me. I smiled back and turned my head, glancing at my suitcases, wondering where I was going to put all those souvenirs from Argentina. Riley's hand opened up and cupped my jaw, turning me to face him again. He was still grinning, so I looked into his eyes a moment before trying to look at something else. “Why do you keep looking away?” he asked, his hand firming to hold my gaze. Despite the revelations of the day, in the quiet I felt exposed, lying there next to him. “Naked.” His smile twitched. “Shy?” “Something like that.” He let me go and played his fingers along the sensitized skin of my torso. “Trust me—you've got nothing to be shy about.” “I know,” I said, faking a confidence I didn't feel as I slid a hand behind my head. “Not many men are as pretty as I am.” This time he was the one to glance away. “What's wrong?” I asked cautiously. “I don't think you're pretty.” The color of his skin warmed as he looked down at me. “I think you're beautiful.” He thought…I was… Riley skimmed a thumb over my lips. “Is that okay?”

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I remembered the first time I'd ever seen him, the night he ambushed me in my office, and all those little moments since then. “That's the word in my head whenever I think of you.” His smile faded as he threaded his fingers through my hair. “Maybe that means we're meant to be together.” He was a little bit of a romantic. I'd never noticed it before. “Maybe.” Lowering his head, he spoke against my lips. “Looking forward to finding out.” A shiver went through me as my eyes drifted shut. “Me too.” “No more running away?” Being cool under pressure had always been my trademark. Riley barreled through my shields, my lies, and whipped my world into a frenzy. The intensity of what he made me feel had scared the hell out of me. Now, as I slipped my hands into his hair and drew him in for a deeper kiss, I thought I was strong enough to face those emotions. “No more running.”

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Epilogue I heard the front door open and shut, but didn't look up from my textbook. “Sorry I'm late, Nick. You get my message?” “Yes, I did.” I took my glasses off, rubbed at my eyes a few seconds, and put them back on. Shoes clumped to the floor; a set of keys clinked against the table by the door. “I feel like a dick,” he said from the bathroom, “asking you to come here and then working till midnight.” “Relax, Riley.” I typed some notes into my laptop. “I can study anywhere, as long as it's quiet.” “Wish you'd been there,” he said, coming into the bedroom. That got my attention. I straightened in my seat and glanced up at him. “Was it really that bad?” Out of habit, I checked my e-mail to see if anyone had written me in a panic. Although I'd been going to school full-time for six months, I still consulted with the company on an as-needed basis. Husky chuckles cascaded around me. “Nah, Melanie's got everything running smoothly.” He leaned down and embraced me from behind. “Just missed you.” I ran a hand over the forearm banded across my chest and went back to studying. He pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck; I turned a page in my book. He brushed his lips over my cheek; I opened a spreadsheet to make sure I understood the concepts we'd covered in class that day. He dragged his teeth over my earlobe; I groaned.

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“Riley.” I tipped my head back. “You said if I came over, you'd let me study.” He stopped short, grinning wickedly. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I was lying.” Determined not to give in, I returned my attention to my book. Riley caught my chin, gently forcing me to look up at him. “Take a break.” “Can't.” I sighed. “You have shadows under your eyes.” “No helping that. Scholarship only covers tuition—I have to earn my own living expenses. That means I need to take every call the company sends my way until I get my degree.” He lowered his head. “You wouldn't have so many living expenses if you weren't hanging on to your apartment.” His fingers loosened, leaving my jaw to trail down my neck and rest on my chest. “Move in with me.” Jerking out of his hold, I twisted in my chair to gape up at him. “What?” Riley walked around and leaned back against the desk. “Move in.” “No!” His entire body tensed at my outburst. “Why not?” I hesitated, unsure why I'd shouted like that. “Look, Riley…” What the hell was I trying to say? “You're bigger, stronger, sexier, richer.” I shook my head, staring up at him. “I don't even have a real job right now. If I moved in and let you take care of me, that would clinch it, don't you think? I'd be your kept man.” He tilted his head to the side. “No, I don't think that.” “But—” “If something drastic happened to my trust fund, if I suddenly lost everything, you'd let me stay at your place and sort things out, right?”

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I frowned, unable to see his point. “Of course, but that isn't the same as my situation with you.” He lifted an eyebrow, then continued on. “And if I were a student—at Harvard, no less—would—” “You did go to Harvard.” “Not for graduate school. And definitely not on a scholarship.” Riley smirked the way he always did when he knew he was winning. “Besides, that's not the point. I'm asking you, given all those other stats, would you think I was a slacker just because I didn't have a full-time job?” I hated it when his points made sense. “No,” I muttered, glancing down at my computer. “So it's not that big a deal if you move in.” He knelt beside me and squeezed my thigh. “You love me, right?” “Yes,” I answered, then jumped when I realized what he'd just done. “Hey!” “Admit it—you've been dying to tell me for weeks.” Sometimes it was scary as hell how well he could read me. “But it's my prerogative to decide when to say—” “And you would have let it twist you up inside, making you so nervous that it would have been another year before I actually got to hear it.” He winked. “It's easier to get you to tell me what you're really feeling if I catch you off guard, make sure you don't have time to think it to death.” I stared at him, stunned. His face softened. “But I guess moving in is a big decision. Take your time with it.” Riley stood, dropping a kiss into my hair before heading to his bed. “Don't study too hard.” He stripped down to a tank top and boxer shorts. It only took a moment to decide what I wanted, and I saved my work before closing my laptop, putting it to sleep.

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When the light given off by the screen vanished, Riley turned around, curious. “What are you doing?” “Coming to bed,” I answered, rising out of my chair. “I was only teasing, Nick. It's your master's degree—you should study as hard as you can.” I grinned. “I'll have a lot more time to study if I'm living here, right?” His entire face lit up, making him look like some giant kid. “Yeah?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I pretended to be stern. “You will let me study? Because if my grades drop, I'm moving in with Mrs. Everley. She bakes me cookies, you know.” Riley laughed, scooping me up in his arms and dropping me onto the bed. “She doesn't make your ears turn pink, though.” I sat up and shrugged out of my clothing. “No, she certainly doesn't.” “Then I've got nothing to worry about.” He crawled into bed, every muscle in his body bunching and flexing with power. “We'll see.” I eased onto my back. “You've got one shot at this.” He held himself over me as he gently removed my glasses and placed them on the nightstand. “Don't worry,” he said, brushing his lips over the arch of my brow. “I won't blow it.” Grinning, I angled my head for a kiss. “I know you won't.” I still had trouble telling him what I felt, but that had to do with my own inexperience, not a lack of trust. Riley…he didn't make fun. He didn't screw around with my heart. He was always open, honest. Riley touched our noses together. “And for the record, I don't think I'm sexier than you.” He meant it. I could see it in his eyes. “Love you,” I whispered, figuring I should say it without being tricked, just to be sure he knew it. Riley nodded and brushed his mouth over mine. “You too.”

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Everything slipped away as he kissed me, as his skilled hands played complex patterns over my body. Riley Jameson and I had managed to fall in love. What were the odds?

Other Loose Id(R) Titles by Rowan McBride One Good Hand

Rowan McBride Born an Air Force dependent, Rowan McBride traveled the world and totally missed the 80’s as most Americans know it. In exchange, he’s gotten to walk in clogs, break an arm at Mt. Fuji, and say prayers at a Korean Buddhist temple. So far it seems like a fair trade. Although he graduated from high school in Hawaii, he didn’t learn to hula and make leis until going to college in Iowa. After leaving the Midwest, he moved to Washington, DC and very nearly got himself a Juris Doctor degree. Now he’s chilling out in Texas, diabolically planning road trips that could span years. People tell him his life is random, and that’s probably true. Rowan comforts himself with the working theory that a random life makes for good stories. When that doesn’t work, there’s Pocky. Lots and lots of Pocky. Check out Rowan's Web site at http://www.rowanmcbride.com.