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my fake eyelashes, twisting my head and moving my shoulders, nearly shaking loose the yellow pom-poms glued to my breasts. Petals flew though the air, landing on my nose. I blew them off to get a better view.
    Damn, who was he talking to?
    Tall, dark-haired, well dressed. Moving through the restaurant with the assurance of a man who knew women wanted him. He kept his eyes straight ahead; his shoulders were broad and powerful, propelling him forward like a sleek jet fighter ripping through the skies. A trip to the moon and back.
    And he’d taken me with him.
    Damn. It was him .
    The stud from the copy room.
    What the hell was he doing here?
    He sat down at the table with Mr. Briggs and barely glanced at me.
    But I recognized him , even without my specs. My throat was dry, my heartbeat went wild, and I swore my honey juices drizzled down between my legs. Talk about embarrassing, since I already had a customer sitting at my table. The man sniffed, smiled and then picked up a piece of fish on my leg with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.
    I hardly noticed. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Mr. Stud.
    My, he cleaned up nicely.
    Gone was the rugged biker look. He was a GQ ad in the flesh. He looked smokin’ hot in a pinstriped dark suit with a cool-blue shirt and midnight-blue tie. Professional, but I knew that an air of wildness existed under that polished exterior. His dark hair was cut sleek on the sides with just enough length on the top to give him that bad-boy look I loved.
    That didn’t explain his covert activities copying Mr. Briggs’s file.
    Who was he?
    A sudden rush of fear made me shiver, and cool perspiration dripped down the sides of my face, my nerves attacking my courage. A sudden twitch in my leg made me jerk wildly as if I were a puppet and someone yanked on my string. My gyrations made the sushi rolls sitting on my thighs bounce up and down, giving the customer sitting within striking distance the opportunity to grab one with his chopsticks. He pinched me, but I felt no pain. I was distanced from what was happening to me, as if I existed in a parallel dimension.
    I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. It wasn’t like I could get up and leave. I had to stay. Or Cindy would lose her job. And I wouldn’t get my job back.
    Yet all I could think about was—
    The stud wouldn’t recognize me without my glasses and my clothes, would he?
    Only a foolish girl would think that.
    It wasn’t as if our shoulders merely touched when we bumped into each other in the copy room.
    We had sex. Him thrusting, me pushing.
    I breathed him in, filled with the warm, evocative memory of that night. Heady musk mixed with the rich smell of office leather, cool AC blowing in my face. I loved it. Sexy encounters like that rarely happened to me. It wasn’t like I had this prejudice against intimacy. I was afraid of where it would lead me. Someplace I didn’t want to go, where I would have to face who I was, where I came from. So I went for the cheap thrill, the quickie sex.
    This was the first time it had backfired on me.
    Or had it?
    What was I afraid of? He was the thief, not me.
    I licked my lips, a new plan orchestrating itself in my analytical brain.
    All I had to do was convince Mr. Briggs this man was a burglar. A denizen of the night with criminal intentions that went way beyond seducing an innocent victim. Me, of course. Then I’d have my old job back in spite of his office manager firing me during one of her Queen Bee moments.
    I wiggled my pink-tipped pedicure with the red rose petals stuck between my toes and smiled. I was all set to show my ex-boss he couldn’t mess with Pepper O’Malley— and get even with Mr. Stud. You know what they say.
    Revenge was sweet.
    Even when it tasted like sushi.
    * * *
    “Mr. Briggs... Mr. Briggs ,” I whispered, trying to get his attention. He couldn’t hear me. The creepy customer at the end of the table was making slurping noises. I motioned for him to back off,