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Carmen asked.
    “No, but Abi sure was.” Matt had a big grin on his face and pointed his right index finger at me.
    “What?” Carmen and I exclaimed in unison, even more puzzled this time.
    Matt explained, “After you left the conference room, before the merger contracts were signed, you were named president of the company, and everyone agreed on that and the new name, which is now First Choice Health and Wellness, Inc.”
    It took my brain a little while to register what Matt had just said, and when I finally came to, after knocking back my Sexual Healing, I asked, “Whose stupid and insane idea is this? Why would they put me in this position? I don’t have the experience.”
    “Your CEO’s, “Matt said, motioning in Mr. Sexy’s direction.
    “Mr. Se…x …” I said, turning my head to my right at Mr. Sexy, biting down on my bottom lip, trying to hold back from saying the word.
    “You?” I asked with drawn-in eyebrows.
    Mr. Sexy looked at me seductively, tilted his head, picked up his drink, and sipped. From behind the rim of the glass, he said “Mr. Sex?” There was a grin behind that rim.
    Fuck! Shit!
I voiced silently, looking at Carmen for help. She apparently found it necessary to pretend cough behind the rim of her Dirtay. I looked angrily at Carmen before I closed my eyes and shook my head in pure embarrassment.
    “Why are you embarrassed? I’m not,” Mr. Sexy said in a calming voice that drew my attention to him.
    Matt grinned from ear to ear and asked, adding more flame to my face, “Abi, you call your boss Mr. Sex?”
    “Xy. Mr. Sexy,” Carmen interjected, now seeming helpful.
    The waitress came back and asked if she could take our orders. I asked for another drink and silently thanked God for his rescue.
    “Another
Sex
-ual Healing?” Mr. Sexy asked with an impish yet charming smile and sparkling pale green-gray eyes.
    “No,” I replied, shaking my head with a slight grin.
    “Perhaps a Dirtay?” Carmen asked, motioning her head and darting her eyes in Mr. Sexy’s direction, which was her way of telling me to get dirty with him.
    “I’ll have a Perfect Angel,” I said looking back at Carmen, who pouted and dryly said, “Perfect angel, my ass.”
    “Ms. Winterfield, I’m afraid we have no such drink,” the waitress said behind a dark smile.
    “Surely the bartender can make the drink,” Mr. Sexy demanded. The waitress gave him a puzzled look before turning an evil-eyed glare in my direction.
    “What are the contents of the drink?” the waitress asked dryly.
    “Equal parts Jose Cuervo Eighteen Hundred Anejo and Eighteen Hundred Coconut and very little mint. Shake it well with crushed ice, strain, and garnish with a cherry. Also, salt and sugar mixed and lime and orange wedges for chasing,” I said happily. The waitress gave me another phony smile.
    “Make that two, Lindsay,” Mr. Sexy said. He was staring at me again—had he ever stopped?
    Carmen and Matt ordered T-bone steaks with asparagus and shrimp Alfredo.
    “I’ll take the salmon. Is it possible to have it stuffed with jumbo lump crab and peppered bacon?” I asked.
    Before she could answer, Mr. Sexy said, “Of course it is,” looking at waitress with a make-it-happen look.
    “How would you know what they can or can’t do in the kitchen? Maybe the chef doesn’t take special orders,” I scolded.
    “Surely the chef can accommodate your request,” he said, looking from the waitress to me.
    “Salmon stuffed with jumbo lump crab and peppered bacon, and what else would you like with that, Ms. Winterfield?” the waitress asked, frowning.
    “Asparagus and shrimp Alfredo with peppered bacon–wrapped lobster bites.” I handed her my menu gleefully.
    “And you, sir. The usual?”
    “No, I would like to have what Ms. Winterfield is having. It sounds delicious.” He continued, “Oh, and Lindsay, bring back a few bottles of Dom Pérignon Oenothèque and the Oenothèque Rosé.”
    “And water,” I added.
    The