Objects of Attraction

My new boss likes rules, but there's one nobody dares to break... No touching his banana. Seriously. The guy is like a potassium addict. Of course, I touched it. If you want to get technical, I actually put it in my mouth. I chewed it up, too....I even swallowed. I know. Bad, bad, girl. Then I saw him, and believe it or not, choking on a guy's banana does not make the best first impression. I should backtrack a little here. Before I ever touched a billionaire's banana, I got my first real assignment as a business reporter.

How'd I meet her? Well, a gentleman never brags. Thankfully, I'm no gentleman. First, I paid for her cherry (pie, but that's not the point). Next, I deflowered her. After that? I left my business card and walked out like I owned the place. Yeah, you could say we hit it off.

Having a hot boss isn't complicated or confusing at all, said no one ever.... But all I have to do is resist for a few months. Come January, I'm flying to Paris to chase my dream of being an artist. Too bad I can't have my treat and eat it, too. I forgot to mention.... My hot boss was also my high school crush. Sort of. First, I wanted to crush him with gooey affection. In the end, I just plain wanted to crush him. Now he's back, and he might as well have "do not touch" printed on his chest. One tiny question: Would it count if I didn't use my hands?

Normally, I was more of a cat person. As in, if I had to choose who lives, I'm going to take the cat nine times out of 10. It's not that I particularly like cats, I just don't particularly like most people. My neighbor wasn't most people. He lived in the apartment across the hall, and he was your typical, buttoned-up, fancy shoes, smells like a Calvin Klein commercial, looks like he actually flosses kind of guy. I mean, seriously? Wasn't flossing just made up by dentists so they could go on their little power trips once every six months?

I'll admit it. I messed up. Mistake #1: Asking Peter Barnidge for a job. Mistake #2: Accepting his offer instead of throwing it in his face like I planned. Mistake #3: In the interest of stopping before #99, I'll pretend the only other mistake was withholding one, tiny little nugget of truth during my interview. Peter Barnidge...I wish it was easier to just plain hate him, instead of the twisted, confusing blend of hatred and attraction I feel.

Everything went wrong when I trimmed his bush. And no, it's not what you're thinking. I'm a professional. The client hired me to trim a bush in his garden for a party. I accidentally turned it into something that rhymes with "a big rock and walls". Imagine my surprise when the art world decides it's a masterpiece. Were my raging hormones the cause of my bush sculpting blunder? I mean, who would blame me if they were? After meeting Harry Barnidge for the first time, my brain went straight to cavewoman mode.