Louise walked out of Andy’s office, her legs still trembling slightly from the memory of being pinned to his desk, her lips swollen and flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the office thermostat.
She pressed the back of her cool hand against her burning cheek, trying to compose herself before she reached the main bullpen. She needed to look like a professional employee, not a woman who had just negotiated a hostile takeover of the CEO’s heart.
She rounded the corner near the breakroom and collided—almost literally—with a wall of aggressive perfume and polyester.
Patricia Thorne stood there, arms crossed, tapping her foot. She took one look at Louise’s flushed face, her slightly disheveled hair, and the way she was clutching her purse like a lifeline, and her eyes lit up with
