A couple walked behind her. A man with slick black hair had his arm draped around a young blonde. They were wrapped up in each other, but seemed to check out Michelle before they turned the corner.

She stood alone outside the elevators, waiting for Jack to return from the front desk where he was getting a room, and she practically wanted to pump her fist, maybe even high-five her own reflection.

But that would be premature, right? What if he was bad in bed? What if he had a small peter? Man, what a drag when that happened. You get all hot and bothered and raring to go, and everything is clicking on all cylinders from the conversation to the connection to the magical thing known as chemistry, then bam. Tiny revealed. She crossed her fingers and sent a silent prayer to the universe—or maybe just to the Patron Saint of Endowment, hoping that such a saint existed and if she didn’t, she damn well should, because she’d have offerings of riches from women the world over—that Jack had the kind of package that would make her mouth water.

Then she chuckled to herself, almost shocked at the thoughts racing through her head. What happened to serious, focused, honest-to-a-fault Michelle who worked as a therapist and prided herself on being direct, upfront, and open? Of course, she wasn’t always upfront. She’d never told her friend Clay how she felt about him all those years. Not that it would have made a difference. He didn’t feel the same way, and who fucking cared anymore? What a welcome bit of luck that at least, for this moment in time, her mind was free of that unrequited love that had weighed her down like a heavy rusted anchor on the sea floor.

Because right now, she was living in the moment, and judging a man for the size of his cock. Or potential size, really. Hell, it felt wickedly good to let this side of her steer the ship. Far too often she was all-work-and-no-play Michelle. But she was her after-hours self now, and she hoped this man could match the ones in her fantasy. Or at the very least, the size of the phalluses in her nightstand drawer.

Jack—or Just Jack as she now thought of him—walked towards her, and he was the only one on her mind as she took him in, his tie loosened, his white shirt rumpled, his pants . . .

Her eyes had strayed there and she snapped them up quickly.

He brandished a key, flashing it at her with a knowing wink, then whispered in her ear, “Were you just checking me out?”

A flush splashed across her cheeks in a flurry. She nodded. “Caught red-handed.”

“I like that you were looking.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, and seconds later the elevator doors opened with a swish, then closed with a swoosh. Faint music played inside, a low beat, sexy and moody. The lighting was dim and silver walls flashed their faces back at them in a midnight-blue glow. Michelle was sure this hotel was rarely used for business.