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attempt to regain his composure.
    “She’s not working today. Why, is there a problem?”
    “No problem,” he answered with practiced casual ease. Except that he had a mammoth hard-on with Chloe's name written all over it . “When does she work next?”
    The white-haired woman pinched her brows together and critically pursed her lips at him. “You know I can’t divulge personal information about another employee, and that includes their work schedule.”
    Rules .
    Logan had never been fond of following them. Strict protocol on the other hand, was a whole other issue. Yes, he liked strict protocol followed. Not by himself, of course, but by a woman kneeling in front of him as he plunged his shaft balls deep into her throat while he …
    “Mr. Evans?” the woman asked, pulling him out of his sinful thoughts.
    “Yes, fine. I need a file,” his irritable answer came back clipped.
    He rattled off some random number, making it up as he went along, so the woman would get out of his face. When she disappeared, he quickly readjusted his rigid dick and mentally scolded himself for reacting in such a pubescent way.
    He casually wondered if there was a drug that worked in the opposite was as Viagra. An anti-hardening lotion, maybe ? He closed his eyes for a split second to recall the memory of his bitchy ex-girlfriend, Jess, and her ghastly grimacing while giving head and, sure enough, it had the desired effect he was hoping for. She never could suck cock with any kind of grace, though that had been the least of his issues with her. The fact that she couldn't keep her hands and mouth off other men was far more offensive than her pathetic oral abilities.
    With his shaft now back to its pre-Chloe flaccid state, he quickly checked the area for anything that looked remotely like a schedule. He crept back to the office where the woman had come from, and low and behold, he found what he was looking for on her desk. He put his photographic memory to good use as he perused it and committed to memory Chloe’s days and hours of work and contact information. From the looks of it, she only worked thirty hours a week, which was perfect for the plan that was already forming in his mind.
    Promptly, he walked back to the tall counter. When the office manager came back out, she looked bewildered.
    “You must have the file number incorrect.”
    “I’ll double check and get back with you,” he countered as he turned to walk out.
    Three more days until he would see Chloe again? He wondered if he could wait that long, knowing damned well it would be sheer torture. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue he had been blessed with—practiced, yes—achieved by sheer will power, yes, most of the time . But that didn’t make waiting any less tiresome.
    In the meantime, he would do a bit of homework on Chloe, while occupying the rest of his time by searching for a new interior decorator. As for the ensuing boners she was inadvertently causing, he would just have to continue getting himself off.
     
    *
     
    Chloe’s second job was proving to be more of a nuisance than anything else. Minimum wage and the measly tips she made at the coffee shop barely made it worth her while. And that damned outfit. She was beyond infuriated about having to wear it.
    S tudent loans , she reminded herself. Though, at this rate, she would be forever paying them off.
    Though physically she was a late-bloomer, she knew from a young age what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now, a month away from her twenty-third birthday, she felt as if all her effort had been for naught, and all those late nights studying diligently had been wasted.
    If only she could build her client list and find someone who would give an unknown interior decorator a chance, her life would be so much happier. At least then she could throw it in Dimitry's smug face that she had made it on her own.
    When the day of her next shift at Baker & Macy finally arrived, nervous jitters had all but taken over. It