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And with that, she lost control. Her legs stiffened, her back coiled and a soft cry escaped her throat. The climax ripped through her, constricting every muscle from her jaw to her toes, pulsing between her legs, until the soft wave crashed over in soothing warmth.
“You collapse in my arms. Your skin is damp and those heavenly breasts are pressed against my chest. I reach down and take a bite through your shirt. Your dark, silky hair hangs down against my desk. I’m holding you in my arms, admiring the sleepy, sated smile on your face. You’re so beautiful, Scorpio. I press my lips between the folds of your blouse and taste the sweet skin between your breasts. I can feel your heart beating wildly against my lips, then it slows as we rest in each other’s arms.”
Oh, yeah.
There was a long pause. Trisha’s limp hands could barely make contact with the keyboard, and she wondered if Pisces47 felt the same way. She waited, allowing her heartbeat to slow when a message finally popped up on the screen.
“How do you feel, Scorpio?”
Her weakened fingers could only type, “Good.”
“Me, too.”
There was another long pause as Trisha tried to recover. She needed to return something, anything other than a few shaky pleas.
“I…” she typed, letting him know she’d be answering in a moment.
“No, Scorpio. Tonight’s for you. Crawl into bed. Curl up and think of me. Think of your dreams as you rest in peaceful sleep.”
She stared at the screen, the session still echoing through her mind.
“I will,” she typed.
“Good night, Scorpio. And remember, honey, whenever you need me I’m just a click away.”
Unable to move, she studied the words while the message popped up saying Pisces47 had logged off. She glanced around her bedroom suddenly realizing she had no idea what time it was. It had been light when they began tonight’s chat, but the sun had gone down somewhere during the first climax and now the room was dark, lit only by the white screen of the chat room.
She shook herself and pressed the keys to download the chat. She’d saved all of Pisces47’s chats. They were too good to toss into cyberspace, so she held them as memories of the man on the other end of the line.
Whoever he was.
Trisha’s brain told her he was probably either a pudgy old married man, or a sex-starved, geeky college kid. But in her fantasies, she knew exactly who he was.
Logan Moore.
Logan had been the object of her fantasies since she’d taken her job at the Moore Agency two years ago. And for two years he’d ruined her for every man that crossed her path. In Trisha’s mind, no one could stand up to Logan Moore and his dark, midnight eyes. She’d often wondered what secrets he kept in those bottomless pools.
But she’d never be the one to find out. Not only was Logan her boss, but rumor had it, the man went through women like a long-haul trucker went through diesel fuel. He was a consummate playboy with a preference toward wealthy supermodels and aspiring actresses. At least, that was the general consensus around the office, and if true, Trisha Bain was clearly out of the running.
For more than a year she’d tried to ignore her infatuation with Logan. She’d continued dating, hoping somewhere along the line Mr. Right would come along and help her forget the tall, chiseled man who filled her dreams. But she’d quickly discovered the effort was pointless. No man would be a worthy substitute for Logan Moore.
At least, not in the flesh.
That was when she happened upon LoveSigns.com and found the perfect solution. She could meet the ideal partner and carry out her sexual fantasies online, with no physical contact to remind her that the man feeding them to her was someone other than Logan Moore. She could put one man’s words with another man’s image and come up with the ideal mate.
For the time being.
Of course, she knew some day she’d have to move on and doing so would probably mean quitting her job. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life clinging to something that didn’t really exist. And she had no intention of doing so.
Her fantasies about Logan and her account with LoveSigns.com would only take her through the next few months, when she completed the ad campaign that would be the jewel on her résumé to help her land a high-paying job somewhere else.
Just a few months of fantasies, and Trisha Bain would forget about Logan Moore and move on with her life.
At least, that was the plan.
“READY FOR THE big meeting?”
Trisha glanced up from her desk to see her friend, Adrienne, peeking through the doorway of her office.
“Not really,” she replied. The pen she held jittered in her shaky hand. Not wanting to reveal her nerves, she dropped it on the desk and folded her hands in her lap. “Devon just called. His flight’s delayed and he won’t be back in time. It’ll just be me and Logan.”
The perky smile on Adrienne’s face sobered as she took a step into the room. “So? This is your campaign, what do you need Devon for?”
Devon made a threesome. Without him, she’d be left alone with Logan, in his office, causing the line between reality and her fantasies to become dangerously thin.
She squeezed her hands together, digging her fingers into the backs of her knuckles. “I just…” she started, not sure how to explain, and based on Adrienne’s knowing expression, she wasn’t going to have to.
Adrienne reached back and closed the door. “This is about Cyber Man.”
Trisha still didn’t understand the complete lapse of judgment that had caused her to confess her twice-weekly chats to Adrienne. Okay, so Adrienne had been her best friend since their days at U.C. Berkeley. If she were to confess to anyone, it would be her. But given the fact that Adrienne had been against the idea from the start, she wasn’t appreciating that I-told-you-so look on her face right now.
Trisha wanted sympathy, not a lecture.
She chose not to respond. Instead, she just frowned and moved her now aching hands from her lap and tucked them under her thighs.
Adrienne took a chair in front of the desk. She was making herself comfortable. She was apparently staying.
Lecture time.
“I told you that was a bad idea.”
So was telling Adrienne about Cyber Man.
Adrienne stared at her for what seemed like an excruciatingly long moment, then finally smiled. “Why don’t you just ask Logan out?”
What was better, the lecture or complete stupidity?
She scowled, letting Adrienne know she’d just crossed over to the latter.
“Gee, let’s see,” Trisha said, hoping to drag out the sarcasm in her tone. “I’m only five-foot-six, which makes me three inches too short for Logan Moore.”
Trisha’s height brought her eye level to his iron-pumped chest, but the six-foot-three Logan preferred women he didn’t have to bend for.
“My breasts are real,” she continued. “I’ve never been on a runway, I’ve never auditioned for Baywatch and I’m not a peroxide blonde.” She released her hands from under her lap and folded them across her chest. “How many strikes is that against me?”
Adrienne scoffed. “Oh, you think you know everything. The guy dated a few bimbos after his divorce and you think you’ve nailed his love life. Trust me. Logan prefers women with brains.”
“Sure. That Carmella Beal had quite the pair of brains. What was that she said at the awards banquet?” Trisha fluttered her eyelashes and took on a breathy tone. “‘I just love the beach. It’s so close to the ocean.’” Through Adrienne’s giggles, she added, “Someone should embroider that one on a pillow.”
“Okay, so Carmella was pretty dim, but if you’ve noticed, we haven’t seen her since.”
Trisha snorted. “She’s no doubt teaching a class in physics at MIT.”
“Oh, now you’re just being mean.”
“I am not. Believe me. Any woman who can stand erect with three-inch stilettos and double-D breasts deserves a degree in engineering.”
“Logan was mortified.”
“He should have been. She made him look like a complete ass.” She huffed and shook her head. “He’s so much better than that.”
“Of course he is. We all know that was just a phase he went through after the divorce.”
“Have you ever seen him with anyone normal?”
“No one has seen him with anyone at all in the last six months. I think he’s given up on women.”
“Well, there you have it. He gathered his jacks and went home.” She thought for a moment and sighed. “No, I’m not going to risk my reputation by chasing after the boss. Sure, maybe if I thought he was interested, but Ade, the man’s never so much as winked. I can’t jeopardize our relationship by making a pass that’s not wanted. It’s not worth it.”
She picked up her pen and resumed jotting down notes for the meeting. Despite Adrienne’s silly notions about her and Logan, the woman had managed to calm her nerves for the moment.
“Bill thinks you two are perfect for each other.”
A stab of fear stopped Trisha’s heart. “You promised me you wouldn’t breathe a word of this to Bill.”
Adrienne had been dating Bill Jeffries, Logan’s Vice President of Products and best friend, for nearly four months. Though Trisha had early reservations about the office romance, she had to admit, the two were cute as kittens together. They both had sandy-blond hair, dark eyes and matching sets of dimples that made them look as if they were born to be together. And the fact that they were still giddy lovers after four months left Trisha feeling as though they might be the real deal.
But no matter how well Adrienne’s office romance was going, Trisha didn’t share that same freedom when it came to Logan. Adrienne didn’t report to Bill, which made them simply coworkers. Trisha, on the other hand, had her eyes set on her boss and though there wasn’t a policy against office romance, dating a direct superior definitely treaded on shaky ground.
Adrienne breathed a sigh of frustration and sank back in her seat. “I’ve told you a dozen times, Logan and Cyber Man are between you and me.”
“I mean it, Ade. A word of this gets to Logan and I’m sending an e-mail to everyone in the office telling them your real name.”
Though Adrienne hadn’t shed her Birkenstocks and ankle-length skirts, there were two things about her hippie, Free Age upbringing she didn’t want spread around the office. One was her parents’ radical political views, which included their notion that the Moore Agency was in the business of brainwashing the public to further corporate greed.
The second was her real name, Hummingbird Eucalyptus, after her mother’s second-favorite bird and tree. Her older sister, Robin Willow, had been given the first choice, leaving Adrienne with a name she’d quickly found ridiculous once she’d graduated from her co-op schools and entered the real world.
Trisha rarely threatened Adrienne with their secrets, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“I swear, Bill came up with the idea on his own.”
Trisha’s pulse resumed ever so slightly. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I agree, but that it’s up to you and Logan. I’ve done the matchmaker thing before and I swore I’d never do it again.” She crossed a hand over her chest. “Honest to God.”
Trisha studied her friend, looking for a twitch, a blink or a flinch that would tell her Adrienne was lying.
Nothing.
Her breathing resumed. “Thank you.”
“Listen, if you aren’t going to go for Logan, you need to move on with your love life. You can have practically any man you want. Why you’re talking dirty on the Internet with this stranger is beyond me. You have to know he’s a pimply teenaged kid.”
Trisha smirked. “Or a toothless rodeo clown.”
“Don’t you know you’re better than that?” Adrienne sighed. “Come on, sweetie, you deserve a real man. I don’t know why you dumped Hal. That guy was hot.”
“Ha! Harley Hal? Leather chaps aren’t my style.”
“Trish, the guy was hot and he adored you.”
“He wanted me to get a tattoo.” Trisha shook her head. “I’ll never be anyone’s motorcycle mamma.”
“What about Phil? What was wrong with him?”
Trisha’s expression went blank as she stared at Adrienne for an extended beat. “He’s never had a job.”
“He’s in med school.”
“He’s a thirty-four-year-old professional student. He already has a law degree but does he try for the bar? No. He decides to go into medicine. I swear. He’ll never amount to anything. He just stays in school so his parents will keep supporting him.”
“His parents are filthy rich, which means he’s filthy rich. What does it matter? You certainly wouldn’t end up in poverty.”
“I have no respect for a man who doesn’t attempt to make his own way through life.”
Adrienne sat back in her seat and let out a long huff. “Well, you’ve got to do something. Using a pimply kid to fantasize about Logan isn’t getting you anywhere. You’re just going to give yourself a nervous break-down.” She gave Trisha the once-over. “Look at you, you’re a mess,” she added, pulling the pad of notes from the desk and pointing to the last few entries. “You’ve written the same sentence three times. Are you planning to stutter?”
“I’m just a little distracted.”
“Because of Cyber Man.”
“No,” Trisha declared, but the tone didn’t sound at all convincing.
Adrienne tossed the notes back to Trisha. “Cyber Man is a pimply teenager. Just repeat that in your head. Wipe out whatever fantasy the guy fed you and replace it with pimply teenaged kid.”
Trisha doubted that was possible. She’d so thoroughly burned last night’s sex chat in her mind, surgery couldn’t remove the image of Logan Moore pleasuring her at his desk. Thank God, she hadn’t worn her navy-blue skirt today, but if Logan wore the crisp white shirt she’d envisioned, she was going to be in trouble.
Hopefully, they would conduct the meeting at his conference table and she was considering bringing enough materials to require it, though it wasn’t technically necessary.
Adrienne’s comment repeated in her mind. The woman was right. Her cybersex idea was beginning to interfere with her work and she would have to get over it fast before she soured her reputation and destroyed her career.
“I just need to get through this project and I’ll be free to go,” she said.
“You’re seriously going to quit?”
“I don’t have any other choice. I need to distance myself from Logan before I ruin my reputation and once I land Tyndale Resorts, I’ll have the reference I need to get a good job at another agency.”
“As good as what you’ll have here?”
