Once Upon A Seduction. Jamie Sobrato

      “Oh, that’s…odd,” she finally said, then hurried away.

      Across the aisle, John stared at her with his signature look of tired amusement. “You’re evil, babe.”

      “Are my horns showing again?” she joked, surprised at the sudden tightness in her voice.

      She absolutely would not start bawling right now.

      “What’s wrong? Does Nelly have the you’re-not-ago-getter stick up his ass again?”

      She nodded, but her stupid lower lip started quivering, and she turned away fast.

      “Don’t let the bastard get you down,” John said, but before he could see how upset she was getting, he got an incoming call. She could tell because he sat up straight and turned on his business voice. “Thank you for calling Dynalux Systems. My name is John. How may I help you?”

      She knew that spiel by heart, even heard it over and over again in her dreams after a long day of work. But now she’d have to learn a new mindless spiel, something like, “Would you like to super-size that value meal today, sir?”

      Skye grabbed a Nordstom shopping bag from under her desk and began casually gathering her belongings in it. Good thing she didn’t keep much at her desk—just a few framed photos of herself with some friends, a Far Side calendar, a bowl of Hershey’s Kisses, a battered issue of Vanity Fair and a few books that she officially did not read on company time.

      Vacating would be easy. She’d been planning her departure since the day she’d arrived.

      Figuring out how to pay the rent next month would not be so easy.

      Maybe imminent starvation would help her break through her writer’s block and finally finish The Cinderella Solution. She had to believe that the book had a chance to sell once she got it into the hands of agents and editors. Without a job, she could bump up her usual twenty-pages-per-week goal to something more ambitious. Maybe fifty pages—or seventy-five. That fast a pace would have her finishing the book by the end of the month.

      Which still didn’t answer the question of how she’d afford her next meal, but Skye would worry about that later. Right now, she had to harness all her frustration and turn it into the thing that would bring her success in her nonexistent writing career. She had to believe she’d sell her first book and many more after that. Then she’d never have to worry about working at a place like Dynalux again.

      Her belongings packed up, Skye surveyed the cubicle. All her clients’ files would have to be given to other sales consultants, but she’d leave that for Nelly to worry about. And then she spotted the red lace bra lying in the corner. How could she have overlooked it? The thought of touching the thing repulsed her, but she couldn’t leave it behind as gossip fodder for Dottie and her cronies, who were not below rummaging through former coworkers’ desks.

      Skye grabbed a pen and used it to lift the bra. She went for the garbage can under her desk, but something stopped her. It was as if, even after his slimy exit from her life, Martin still had a hold on her. Some other woman’s bra was the only tangible evidence of him left. At least now she understood his aversion to photo-graphs—he hadn’t wanted to leave proof of his presence behind.

      Sighing, Skye dropped the gigantic bra into her shopping bag. She’d take it home for a ritual burning, if nothing else. Or maybe her roommate would decide to use it in one of her mixed-media art collages.

      And now there was nothing left for her to do but slink out of the office.

      Nico Valletti, the jerk… He thought he could strut into her office and screw up everything? If he hadn’t shown up and ignored that little troll Dottie, she wouldn’t have squealed on Skye, and she’d still have a job. Nico thought he could mess with her life without there being consequences?

      Okay, so he probably could. What could she do to him, anyway? She wasn’t sure, but she’d think of something. At the very least, she’d let him know exactly what she thought of his setting off this chain of events. Why would he appear in her office, say he was going to get her fired, and then not do it?

      It made no sense. But if she happened to accidentally hurl something at his head in the process of sorting out the truth, she definitely wouldn’t feel guilty.

      Not one bit.

      NICO DRUMMED his fingers on the steering wheel and watched the door of the office building. Should he stay or should he go? That was the question of the minute. And while logic said to leave and forget the whole problem of Skye Ellison, his guy instincts said to stay. Skye had been haunting his fantasies ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, and something had to give.

      He could remember the first time he’d seen her as though it was a classic movie scene.

      She’d been walking up the driveway to the cottage on his property last fall, on her way to visit Martin, and she’d been wearing a flippy little dress that was no match for the sea breeze. He’d watched through the window, half amused and half aroused as she’d struggled to keep her pink satin panties covered while her dress flailed in the wind. Damn, but he’d have loved to bring her inside, push that skirt up her thighs, tug off those panties, and bury himself inside her right at that moment.

      Her long brown hair had caught his eye for no particular reason except for the way it was tangled around her face in the wind, and he couldn’t help admiring her sweet, tight ass as she struggled with her dress. He’d been composing his first witty comment to her when she’d bypassed his door and kept walking toward the cottage.

      And that had been the first thing he’d disliked about Martin. Later, listening to him drone on and on about how great Skye was had only made it worse.

      But showing up at her office the way Nico just had? Sitting in the parking lot now like a world-class loser? Plotting his next move? He definitely, without a doubt, needed to find a better way to spend his time.

      Besides, being inconspicuous while driving a white Ferrari 360 Modena was going to be damn near impossible.

      Nico hadn’t come to Dynalux planning to follow Skye—if he had, he would have borrowed someone else’s car—but after she’d refused to help him and he’d pretended to talk to her boss, he’d left her office unsure what else to do. So here he sat, like a stalker waiting for his next victim.

      He had been sure cornering her at her office and threatening to let her boss know about her probable criminal history would be enough to get her to cooperate a little. Catching her slacking off on the job had been icing on the cake, and yet she’d surprised him by not giving in.

      Nico suffered a few pangs of remorse over having come here at all, but he figured she’d get a slap on the wrist at worst for having a personal visitor.

      Damn it. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here, thinking of following a woman whose ass he couldn’t stop fantasizing about.

      This is what his life had come to. Why hadn’t anyone warned him how much retirement would suck?

      Oh hell, there he went again letting self-pity creep in. He would not feel sorry for himself. He’d had a great racing career, and he’d chosen when to end it on his own—while he was still at the top. Wrecking his car, breaking his leg in five places and enduring the past year of physical therapy might not have been part of his plan, but he knew he was lucky to have walked away from that wreck alive.

      And he had not quit out of fear, as some people had claimed. So what if his father, also a racecar driver, had been killed in a crash twenty years ago? That didn’t mean he was afraid of the same fate.

      His quitting had simply meant he had enough sense to see a pattern emerging—Valletti men and racing careers resulted in bad news. Driving for Team California in the Indy racing circuit had been his dream come true, but he was ready to move on to the next thing.

      Whatever that was.

      The entrance of Dynalux Systems opened. Skye came walking out carrying a shopping bag and swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. As