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conversation thread. I don’t want to talk about work. Let’s keep business and pleasure separate.”
    “Agreed.” Wine-scented breath heated her neck, sending a good shiver up the back of her scalp. “Dessert?” he wondered.
    She turned to pull him up against her. “What are you in the mood for?”
    He eyed the macarons that sat a hands-reach away on the counter. She picked one up and offered it to him. His bite crumbled the cookie’s light, airy shell and crumbs fell onto her dress. 
    “Rootbeer? That’s awesome.” He swept his fingers over the crumbs, ever-so-slyly running the back of his hand over her nipple. He opened his mouth, and she stuck in the remaining half of the macaron. The man even chewed sexy. 
    “My neighbor is a pastry chef. And a sugar dealer. She feeds my habit.” She slid her hand along his and beckoned it back to her nipple. “Another?” she asked.
    He tugged aside the neckline of the dress to expose red lace (always matching underthings). “Yes.”
    He lifted her against the counter and she wrapped her legs around his hips. The man’s lips firmly landed on hers and she sighed into his breaths. He tasted savory, like wine with a top note of rootbeer and sugar. 
    He glided a hand up her spine and she arched against his chest. He held her securely, breasts to chest, as he peppered kisses down her chin and over her jaw to lash his tongue along her neck.
    “Not another elevator quickie,” he said against her skin. “I need more of you, Rachel, longer this time.”
    “Are you kidding? You’re not getting away from me that easily. Oooh. Yes, right there.”
    His kisses landed on the top of her breast. The demi bra barely covered her nipple, and his serious attention to her curves vanquished any lingering vacillation she had regarding whether or not to engage in an affair. The vixen had pushed the door wide open. 
    “Bedroom?” he asked.
    “Around the corner.”
    “Wine,” he said, as he lifted her from the counter, his kisses landing at her collarbone, her breast, and deeper, between her cleavage.
    She swept up the half bottle of wine, and he carried her down the short hallway into the bedroom’s pink depths. Pink, because she kept a red scarf over the low-wattage lamp near the bed. She liked the soft color playing across the white walls and sheets. And no, it was not bordello chic as Melissa liked to tease. The rest of the room was clean pine furnishings with spare, brushed steel hardware, and not a decorative pillow or silly wall hanging in sight.
    Zac didn’t comment on the lush atmosphere as he crawled onto the bed with her in his arms. He was strong, and again she had to wonder when geeks had started to work out, because his biceps were solid and bulging under her exploratory fingers. Did it matter?
    With one shoulder of her dress in each hand, he pulled the clingy red rayon down to expose her bra. “I like red.” He nibbled the lacy edge and tugged it down with his teeth to reveal her nipple. “But I like this rosy color even better.”
    She moaned as he painted his hot tongue around her nipple. Rachel clutched the bed sheets in utter pleasure and dug her heels into the mattress.             
    “Is this all right?” he muttered between tongue lashes to her skin.  “Away from the office?”
    “Yes,” she gasped, as he began to peel the dress down her stomach. “Just don’t kiss and tell, okay?”
    “So we’re doing the secret sex?”
    “No, I mean…” She lifted his head with a hank of his hair. “You do work in the same building. I don’t want to walk down the hall to the chorus of snickers from the other IT guys.”
    He clasped his hands over her stomach and assumed a serious moue. She didn’t want a conversation right now but sensed one coming.
    “Is there something wrong with me being from IT?” he asked. “I sense a certain discrimination in your tone every time you mention it. Not good enough for the high fashion office