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himself. Except it was so much more attractive and easier to lay the responsibility for his block on one uptight fashion and style consultant than to face the fact that he hadn’t been able to put an intelligible string of words together on his computer screen since he’d left her office two days ago.
    The thought of her haunted him—almond eyes, oval face, high cheeks, slightly upturned nose and full cupid’s bow lips—all went a long way to putting the rock-hard in his cock. Shit.
    He didn’t think he had ever seen a woman who made tweed look sexy. Ms. Lyons did it effortlessly, teasing him with her classy lines, strutting around that beige and cream office in her brown pantsuit and lightweight chocolate turtleneck beneath, making him wonder exactly what was under all that elegant durable material.
    Okay, so she was attractive, exceptionally so, her exotic features, especially those limpid, whiskey eyes hinting at a drop of Asian blood, as intoxicating as the color of her eyes. The sculpted cheekbones reminded him of a proud Native American heritage, accenting her strong ethnically mixed face. Everything about her was earthy and solid, and made him think of foreign tropical islands, warm summer breezes and hot sand against copper tone skin.
    Jesus, either he needed a vacation, or he needed to get laid, probably and preferably both. If Tabitha were amenable, he could kill two birds with one stone.
    EJ smiled, sliding into the fantasy of propositioning the prim and proper Ms.
    Lyons before he abruptly pushed back from his computer, almost tipping over the swivel chair he rose to his feet with such force.

    23
    Gracie C. McKeever
    He staggered back from the chair, raking a hand through his hair, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath to try and exorcise her pixie’s face from his mind. No go, still there, worse than ever. Or better, depending on his frame of mind, and his frame of mind obviously wanted to be on her. Damn it.
    Maybe working up a sweat would take his mind off of her, steer it back to his work-in-progress. It couldn’t make things any worse. As it stood, he’d written exactly three words—two of them several times over—filling the blank screen like an infatuated school girl trying out the last name of a crush with her first name to see if they were a good match.
    Tabitha Lyons, Tabitha Lyons, Tabitha Lyons. Tabitha Vega. Tabitha Lyons-Vega.
    EJ hit the deck and gave himself fifty, a quick set of push-ups that would have made a rampaging drill sergeant smile, but barely put a dent in taking the edge off of his tension.
    Hell, he was going to have to go full out, totally obliterate the woman from his mind with an adrenaline rush. There was no other way. It wasn’t like he didn’t need it, the sedentary life was starting to catch up with him more than he wanted to admit. Things had been bad enough when he was in advertising, the biggest source of an aerobic workout coming from hop-scotching across the country for yet another campaign pitch or meeting. Half the time his credit card got more of a workout than he did, and he had enough frequent flyer miles on it to go to Mars and back.
    EJ wondered what she was doing right now, mentally kicking himself for letting his mind drift back to the little lioness. Hell, he hadn’t been in her company more than a half-an-hour and the memory of her burned through his gut like spicy Italian cuisine.
    He had shaken her hand and been lost ever since, an electric shock jolting through his body, brutal like a lightning bolt. He’d felt the small hairs rising on his arms, never had as visceral a reaction to anyone, male or female, and didn’t think it was just because she was a hot looking woman. There was more to her than that, more to his attraction.
    EJ saw past the stuck-up attitude, past the perfect clothes, every long chestnut hair in place, unnecessary make-up skillfully applied and an erect carriage making her seem at least five inches taller than what he