Gray Elliott tapped a rapid tattoo on the handle of his briefcase.  He stared at the numerical displayed above the elevator, and gritted his teeth.  He checked his watch.  The elevator had been sitting at twelve for three full minutes.  He was on fifteen and if not for his bum knee he would have headed for the staircase two minutes ago.

Was it too much to ask that at the end of a hard day a man actually be allowed to go home?  Was it too much to ask that a company that netted three million dollars last year actually keep its elevators in decent repair?  The things had been breaking down chronically over the last two months and Gray was tired of it.  Sick of it.

Not that he had much to go home to, he admitted grudgingly.  His apartment was too big and too quiet, but at least it didn’t glow with fluorescent lighting or echo with the click of fingers on keyboards, and at least there was no one in the kitchen barking at him to increase his sales and whip his team into shape.

He made a conscious effort to relax his grip on the briefcase handle.  It was quitting time, and it was Friday.  No sense stressing over something as petty as a couple of extra minutes spent waiting in an elevator bay. 

At last the numbers began to change and he breathed a sigh of relief.  A quick glance behind assured him that he was alone.  Maybe, for once, he’d enjoy a solitary ride all the way to the main floor.  It was a long shot, but he let himself hope...

The bell dinged and after an agonizing moment, the door slid open.  He stepped into the car, punched the button for the Main Lobby and felt himself relax as the doors began to slide closed.

“Hold it!”  A delicate, French-manicured hand darted out, wedging itself between the doors and triggering the electronic eye.

Gray groaned his silent disappointment as the doors slid open to allow the woman to step inside.  Carrie Marshall.  Great. 

She tossed him an enigmatic smile that could have meant either, “Thank-you” or “Fuck you.” Considering what he knew of her, it was more than likely the latter.  Gray watched her out of the corner of his eye, but her expression remained unreadable.

She glanced at the panel to confirm their destination and stepped to the back of the car.  Gray kept his eyes forward and determinedly did not notice her.  He didn’t notice the way that chocolate brown business suit hugged every luscious curve, or the way her legs, balanced on four-inch stilettos seemed to travel all the way to her throat.  He didn’t care that her cinnamon-streaked hair that had been twisted into a neat knot at the back of her head, just begged to be let loose, or that the delicate gold cross that hung around her neck implored his eyes to travel just a little bit lower. 

He didn’t notice any of that because he knew this woman, and he knew that noticing such things was a sure-fire recipe for trouble.  Carrie Marshall was the VP in charge of Research and Development, and she was known for being head-strong, highly intelligent and brutally ambitious.  She was also known around the water cooler as the official Fifteenth-Floor Ice Queen. 

Gray had the feeling that she could give a man frost-bite with nothing more than a cold look.

The elevator ground to life, jerked once and then resumed it’s motion.

“Good Lord.”  Her voice startled him.  Partly because he hadn’t expected her to speak at all, and partly because her voice more closely resembled melted chocolate than rock candy.  “I swear these things are death traps.”

“Uh huh.”

“I just hate stepping onto them every day, but who can even think about going fifteen flights of stairs in these heels?” Her chuckle sounded strained, possibly even...nervous?

“Mm.”  It seemed like she was trying to be friendly, but he hesitated to trust that impression. Maybe he should say more, but had no idea how to handle someone like her, not to mention how to handle his own reactions to her.  Despite his best efforts his crotch had begun to throb the moment she stepped into the car, and hearing her voice had only exaggerated the problem. 

He didn’t need this kind of pointless hassle, meaningless torture. He saw no future in striking up a conversation with a woman who’s interest in him probably most closely resembled that of a child with a magnifying glass gazing down at an ant hill.  He just wanted to get home and pop open a beer. Was that so much to ask?

“You’re Gray Elliott, aren’t you?”

That startled him so much, he had to turn around and face her.  “Yes.  How did you—”

The screech and whine of metal on metal was so loud, and so long and so bone-jarring that he dropped his briefcase in order to clamp his hands over his ears.  “What the hell?” he shouted over the din.

He noticed that Carrie had gone deathly pale, and had made no move to cover her ears.  She had dropped her briefcase as well, but she just stood there, eyes fixed, feet slightly apart, knees bent and body tensed—like a boxer poised for battle. 

Gray gritted his teeth as the noise continued.  It lasted a full ten seconds as the elevator gradually slowed and ground to a shuddering halt.  The numerical display had gone black, so he had no idea what floor they were on.  Not that it mattered, because the doors didn’t bother to open.

Gray dropped his hands and stared at the doors, waiting.

The silence that followed was deafening, the stillness expectant.  Still nothing happened.

“Shit,” he muttered.  He stepped up to the panel and although he suspected it would be useless he began punching buttons.  Nothing.  “Dammit.  I can’t believe this.  It looks like we’re stuck.”

Surprised that he hadn’t yet heard anything from his companion he turned to face her.  “Do you think we should try—” He blinked, stepped forward.  “Ms. Marshall?”

She was now flushed.  Her skin had turned a bright pink and her breathing had accelerated. 

“Hey.  Are you okay?”

She didn’t look at him, merely stared at the doors, her expression an odd mixture of hopefulness and fear.

The urge to touch her was overwhelming. He laid a hand on her forearm, and at last she looked at him.  He saw panic in her eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

She blinked.  “I need to get out.  I want to go home.”

He laughed, but knew it sounded forced.  “No shit.  Join the club.”

She moved away from him, walked to the door and pushed on it.  “No.  Really.  I...I can’t stay here.  Can’t you do something?”

“Uh...I’d love to, but I seem to have left my magic wand in my other pants.”  Even as he said it he regretted the sarcasm, but hearing the panic building in her voice wasn’t exactly helping to ease his own discomfort.

She didn’t seem to notice, however.  He looked on as she pounded on the doors and shouted for help.  And then it hit him.  “Jesus, what an idiot.”

She whirled on him.  “Me?”

“No.  Me.” He popped open a panel and picked up the emergency phone.  “That’s what these things are for, right?”

The expression that crossed her face was unreadable  “Right.”

He dialed 8, as the panel instructed and the other end immediately picked up.  “Yeah, yeah,” said an impatient voice. A voice that Gray recognized.  “We know, already.  We’re working on it.”

“Well, I fucking hope so, Larry.”  He played poker with Larry on a semi-regular basis and traded insults with him like baseball cards.  Despite appearances, however, they did like each other.  Sort of. “How much do they pay you to look after these things, anyway?  Too much, no doubt.  No wonder you can afford to lose so much to me at the table.”

“You’re a smart ass, Gray.”

“At least my ass can fit through most doorways.”

“Just for that I’ll take my time.”

“Like hell you will.  I’ve got company in here, and the lady is none too happy.”

“Who is it?”

Gray glanced at Carrie who was staring at him, eyes wide and unblinking.  “Ms. Marshall.”

“Woohoo!  Lucky you.  Have icicles started to form on your nose yet?”

“Shut up and fix this, okay?’

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How long?”

“Hmm.”  Gray heard the click of computer keys, and a muffled shout followed by an even fainter response.  “About an hour.  Maybe more.”

“An hour?”  Gray’s stomach sank to his knees.  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“The longer you keep me on the phone the longer it’ll take.”

Gray hung up.

He turned to face Carrie, but kept his eyes lowered.  He felt bashful, as if the lengthy wait was somehow his fault. “I guess you heard, eh?”

“An hour?” Her voice had edged up a notch.  He lifted his voice to watch as she stepped away from him, backing up until she bumped against the rear wall of the car and could go no further.  “I can’t last an hour.”

“Ah, come on,” he said, trying to make his voice light.  “I don’t smell that bad.”

In a heartbeat her gaze turned fierce.  “You don’t understand!  I’ve got claustrophobia.”  Her eyes darted around the car and her fingers fumbled with the collar of her blouse.  “It’s hot in here.  Don’t you think it’s getting hot in here?”  She popped one button, and then another.  And then she shrugged out of her jacket and let it drop to the floor.  Her breathing had also accelerated to the point that he feared she was hyperventilating.  “I...I can’t breathe. There’s no air in here!”

Not knowing what else to do, he stepped forward and grabbed her wrists.  “Hey!  Look at me,” he commanded. 

She went very still, and met his gaze, her eyes as deep and dark and seductive as her voice.  He tried to ignore the fresh surge of blood to his groin. 

He gentled his voice, but kept it firm.  “Now, listen to me.  Are you listening to me?”

She nodded and her breathing settled a little.

“Okay.  It is not hot in here, and there’s plenty of air.  And there’s plenty of room to move, and you’re going to be fine.  Okay?”

She nodded slowly, but the nod quickly shifted to a shake.  “No.  I’m not okay.  I mean, I believe you.  In my head I know that, but...”  She closed her eyes and he watched her make a concerted effort to slow her breathing.  “But that’s a rational thought.  And this fear is irrational.  That’s what a phobia is, right?  Irrational.”  She wrenched her wrists away from him and paced to the far side of the car, whirled around and paced back. 

“Is there some way I can help?”

She stopped and scanned the car, peering at the corners as if afraid that spiders or snakes would crawl out and attack her at any minute.  She shook her head, as if trying to shake off some unsavory image. “At least I can move my arms and legs.  If I can’t move, it’s much worse.”

“Good.  That’s good.”

“But...”  She turned to face him.  “But I can’t last an hour.  I’ll go crazy thinking about it.”

He nodded, considering.  “Then you need to think about something else.  You need a distraction.”

She laughed then, the sound high and tight.  “It’d have to be a helluva distraction.  And, besides, what can we do in here?  Play cards?  Debate abortion?”  Her chest rose and fell more quickly again.  “What?”

An idea formed in his mind, but it was so ludicrous he immediately dismissed it.  It must have showed on his face, however, because she stepped closer and grabbed his arm.  “What?  You thought of something.  What was it?”

“Nothing.  It was stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid if it takes my mind off this!”  She fumbled with another button and revealed an enticing bit of cleavage.  “Damn, it’s so hot.”

“Well...”  He lifted his gaze to hers, and swallowed.  “We could...you know... uh...”

Their gazes met, and understanding flickered.  “Yes,” she breathed, reaching for the lapels of his jacket and pushing them off his shoulders.  “My God, yes.”  She laughed again, this time it was low and throaty.  “That’s perfect.”

And then her lips were on his and her breasts were crushed against his chest, and in that moment he thanked God for incompetent elevator mechanics.

* * * * *

His lips were firm and hot, his chest hard.  She parted her lips in invitation and groaned in delight when his tongue thrust deep and warred with her senses.  He tasted vaguely of cinnamon, and an uncharacteristic giggle bubbled up from her chest.

“What?” He drew away, looked down on her with sudden concern.  His eyes were a light brown, golden, like a good whiskey.  A few strands of chestnut hair had fallen across his forehead giving him a rakish look that made her heart flutter.

“Were you chewing gum recently?” she asked.

He smiled, a wide, easy smile that turned her knees to jelly.  “Yeah.  You want some?”

She tugged at his shirt and slid her hands underneath, touching warm skin and firm muscle.  She’d seen him down at the company gym a few times, but he’d always worn a baggy T-shirt.  Judging from his biceps and shoulders, she’d suspected a set of washboard abs hid beneath.  Now she knew for sure.

“Oh yeah.”  She lifted the shirt and dragged her tongue across a ridge of quivering muscle.  “I want some, all right.”

“Christ,” he groaned as she reached for his belt.  “Don’t you think we should slow down?”

“No.”  Her tongue sampled his navel as her fingers worked at his zipper.  “I can’t take time to think.  I need this fast.”  The pants slipped past his hips and she reached inside his briefs.  She wrapped her fingers around him, found him thick and full.  “And hard.”

His chest was working like bellows.  “Oh, I’m hard all right.”

“I noticed.”  She ran her thumb over the tip and then began pumping his cock.  “And here I thought you said you left your magic wand in your other pants.”

He laughed, even as he took a step backward. 

It was as if her onslaught had weakened his knees and he needed support.  That thought pleased her, and she followed him, maintaining the motion of her hands on his cock until he bumped into the wall of the car and leaned back heavily.  He framed her face with his hands and dragged her close for a deep kiss, even as her hands squeezed and teased his cock inside his briefs.

His mouth still joined to hers, he reached for the knot of hair at the back of her head and worked out a pin.  And then another until the knot loosened and her hair tumbled to her shoulders.  He plowed his fingers through her hair and finally dragged his mouth away from hers, leaving her gasping for breath and wishing for more.

“Gorgeous.”  He combed his fingers through the strands.  “Absolutely gorgeous.”

She felt her own heart quicken at the adoration in his eyes.  She hadn’t expected that, and it sent shivers coursing down her spine. 

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered, and then dropped to her knees.  “While I suck you.”  She dragged his briefs over his hips and let them fall to the floor.  Finally freed, his cock jutted out before her and she drew her fingers lightly down the length of it appreciatively.  She noticed he’d made no move to remove his shirt.  She looked up at him.

“Well?”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”  She licked the tip, and tickled his balls with her fingernails.  “Why would I be kidding?”

“You—you’re a VP, for chrissake.”

She batted her eyelashes.  “How do you think I got there?”

His mouth dropped open.  “Shit.”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m kidding. But being an exec doesn’t mean I don’t know how to give good head.”  She swirled her tongue around him once.  “Now, get naked and let me see those pecs of yours.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He reached for the buttons on his shirt and she wrapped her lips around him, taking him deep.  She played him with her tongue, raked her teeth over him, and sucked him hard.  Her hands skimmed over his hips and reached around to grip his ass.  God, he had a great ass.  Damn those business suits that hid too much.  It was definitely time to institute a casual dress code.  Jeans on Fridays should be a fucking requirement. And the tighter the better.

She lifted her eyes and saw that his shirt was off.  His chest was just what she’d expected and more.  Broad and well-defined, dusted with hair and, at this moment, gleaming with sweat. 

“Damn,” he groaned.  “If you don’t stop I’m gonna come.”

“Mm.”  She drew away, sucking hard as she did so, and digging her fingernails into his ass in farewell.  She stood and faced him.  “We can’t have that, can we.”  She ran her hands over his chest.  “Not quite—”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around, pressing her back against the wall of the car.  He made quick work of the remaining two buttons and her blouse was on the floor before she knew what was happening. 

He palmed her breast.  “Mm.”  He bent down and drew his tongue along the curve of flesh.  “Black lace.  Who’d a thunk.”

She let her head fall back on her shoulders and murmured.  “The panties match.”

“Oh yeah?”

He hiked up her skirt, and with his mouth still pressed to her breast, reached beneath in search of the matching wedge of satin and lace.  “Nice.”  He slid his fingers underneath and the touch of flesh against flesh almost sent her over the edge. He parted the lips of her sex and cruised over her clit. “Nicer.”

He dipped inside her and she ground herself against his hand.

“Take off your bra,” he ordered.  “I’m kinda busy here.”

She complied, popping open the front clasp and letting the lace fall from her shoulders. 

His lips latched onto her naked breast and his tongue teased her nipple, even as his fingers thrust deeper.  “My clothes,” she pleaded.  “Off.”

“Are you always so bossy?” he teased, even as he reached for the zipper at the back of her skirt.

“Do you like it?” she teased back.  “I have a whip in my brief case.”

His laughter was deep and easy. He straightened, so that they stood face to face and his chest brushed against her nipples. Her skirt fell to the floor and she felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties.  “I think I believe you,” he said, his eyes glittering.  “But I think I’ll pass.”  Her panties fell to the floor and his cock nestled in the cleft of her pussy.

She skimmed her hands over his shoulders, and slipped them around his waist to grip his back.  “You chicken?  Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

He gripped her ass and lifted her from the floor, parting her thighs and easing his cock inside her.  “Oh, I’m pretty sure you’ll hurt me.  But not like that.”

She let those words slip across her senses without really sinking in.  Instead she dug her fingernails into his back and arched her hips to accept him. 

“Jesus.”  He thrust deeper.  “Sweet Jesus.”

“Harder,” she pleaded.  “Faster.”

He plunged into her, withdrew and plunged again.

The wall of the elevator was cold and hard against her back, but every thrust drove those discomforts from her mind. 

She wrapped her legs more tightly around his hips, buried her face in the cradle of his shoulder. And let him take her.  His muscles flexed beneath her hands and every part of him screamed out strength and power.  Again, she hadn’t expected to find that beneath the well-tailored suit and polished leather briefcase, but now that she’d discovered it, she decided she liked it.  She wanted to sink into it.  Lose herself in it.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly. 

She lifted her head and did as he asked.  His eyes drilled into hers and raked over her senses.  Her nipples tightened, and not just from the rasp of his chest hairs.  She felt his gaze like a physical touch.  It added to her arousal, and she felt the pressure build.

Her lips parted in search of more oxygen, but he took it as an invitation.  He sealed his lips to hers, plundered her mouth with his tongue, and speared her with his cock. His fingers dug into her ass and with one more thrust she shattered.  He held her firm, prolonging the kiss as the orgasm pummeled her body and she convulsed around him. 

The muscles of his back tightened and he tilted her hips toward him.  He broke the kiss, and threw his head back, pumping himself into her as the last waves of pleasure lapped over her and consumed them both.

* * * * *

“Feeling better?” he asked, his hand resting lightly on her breast.

They sat on the floor in a corner of the elevator.  His back rested against a pillow made up of their bundled cast-offs and she sat between his outstretched legs.  She was naked, and to her own amazement, completely unselfconscious about it. 

“Mm hmm,” she answered, her head lolling against his shoulder.  She grasped his other hand and guided it to her other breast.  “For now.”  The afterglow still hung about them, but she hated to let it dwindle.  They still had at least a half an hour to kill.

“For now?” he asked, a smile evident in his voice.  “You mean you want more?”

“Maybe.”  She placed her hand over his, exploring his knuckles and the play of muscles as he kneaded her breast. 

“So much for the Ice Queen model.”

She laughed.  “Is that what they say about me?”

“Uh huh.” To her surprise and pleasure his other hand left her breast and skimmed lower.  Over her rib cage, across her belly.  “Does that shock you?”

“Not really, I suppose.”

“Does it bother you?”  His fingers reached her pubic hair and stopped. 

“Not really, since I’ve actively cultivated that image.”  She released the hand that covered her breast and covered his other hand with hers, urging it lower.

Abruptly he turned the tables on her, covering her hand with his, and directing her to touch herself.

“Why?” he asked as her fingers combed through pubic hair and parted the lips of her sex.   His fingers on hers kept the touch firm while still allowing her to direct her own pleasure.

She closed her eyes.  “Mm.  It’s tough to be both a boss and a sex object.”

“So you picked ‘boss.’”

“Mm hmm.”  She drew a circle around her clit, spreading moisture and savoring the touch of his hand on hers.

“Does that mean you’re swearing me to secrecy?”

“You bet.” She massaged her clit, felt the dampness collect between her thighs.  She also sensed him hardening against her back. 

He urged her fingers lower and she had to part her thighs to comply.  She sank two fingers deep inside, explored the wet, velvety lining and drew out again.  

He breathed in her ear, “But technically you’re not my boss.”

“Good thing. Otherwise I’d either have to promote you.”  She allowed herself a grin.  “Or kill you.”

He gripped her hand and dragged it away, pulling it up to his mouth where he proceeded to draw her fingers between his lips and suck them clean.  She watched, breathless, as his eyes closed in obvious pleasure.   She shifted a little in order to see him better and when he opened his eyes again, their faces were barely an inch apart.

She felt his breath on her face as he spoke. “You could, you know. You could pick up a dagger and, very slowly, stab me with it right here.”  He placed her hand over his left breast.  “You could pierce me right through the heart and I could die slowly, lying here as my blood seeped out onto the floor.  But if you were the last thing I saw before my eyes closed I’d die with a smile on my face.  I’d die a happy man.”

She swallowed, tamping down something that seemed to be swelling in her chest.  She could barely breathe, barely think.  She hadn’t expected this.  She’d expected a quick thrill ride that would occupy them both and keep them going through an intolerable situation.  She hadn’t expected him to be sweet and attentive and romantic. She hadn’t expected to feel this... this...flutter in her gut or the quickening of her heart.  She hadn’t felt it in years, and was startled by the fierceness of the sensations that accompanied it. 

She could barely find breath to speak, let alone come off as casual and cavalier.  “You probably use that line on every woman you meet.”

He shook his head.  “No.  I’ve never said it before in my life.  In fact I’m not sure where it came from.”  And then he kissed her, slowly, deeply, completely.  He drew away and sipped at her lips.  “I guess you inspire me.”

Oh God.  She knew, at that moment, that she should cut her losses.  She should separate from him, demand the return of her clothes and spend the remainder of their time together, glaring at him and lecturing him about the dangers of seducing company executives.  But, of course, there were two problems with that.  First, she was pretty sure she was the one who had seduced him, and second, she didn’t think she was physically capable of moving at that moment. 

Of course there was also the fact that she desperately wanted to feel his hands on her again.  Everywhere.

She swallowed.  “I...I’m feeling a little bit of panic creeping in again.”

He whisked a thumb down her cheek.  “Well, then, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?  Turn around and lay down.”

“Wh—what do you have in mind?”

“Would you like to try something a little different?”

“Uh...sure.  Like what?”

“Just wait and see.”

She followed his directions and lay back on a bed that he made for her from their clothes. He used his briefcase to pillow her head.  Before he’d given to her, though, he’d popped it open and pulled something out. 

“Is that a cell phone?” she asked when he took a moment to fiddle with it.

“Mm hmm.  Where’s yours?”

She frowned and pointed to her own briefcase.  He popped it open and pulled out his prize.  He did something to the keypad and then set both phones aside.  “What the—”

He bent down, pushed her thighs apart and drew his tongue over her pussy. 

Her head fell back and she sank into the sensation.  “Oh.  I.  Oh.”

He suckled her clit and dipped his tongue inside her.  “Is this good?” he murmured as his hands gripped her ass and lifted her up. 

“Uh huh.  Good.”

He increased the pressure, suckling her harder and thrusting his tongue deeper.  “Very good?”

All she managed was a primal groan.  His tongue massaged her clit and she reached down to lace her fingers in his hair, hold him close.

“Now, now,” he said after a moment, dragging himself out of her reach and neglecting her aching clit.  “I just have to make a quick phone call.”

“What?”  She bolted upright and watched as he apparently hit re-dial on her phone.  He wore an evil grin that set her suspicions in motion.  “Who the hell are you calling?”

“Myself.”  He held up his phone which had begun to vibrate. 

And then he placed the vibrating phone against her pussy and she laughed out loud at the ludicrousness of it.  She tried to squirm away, but he gripped her around her waist and held her firm, pressing the phone more tightly against her clit.

“Oh-god-oh-god.  I... I never thought...” 

“Ah come on,” he teased as the vibrations continued.  “Never?”

“Really.  Nev—”

The orgasm shot through her like a felt-tipped spear.  It was fierce and yet it made her ache for more.  She arched her back against his arm and pushed her hips forward in search of the added pressure.  Before she realized what was happening he’d tossed away the phone and lifted her high, impaling her on his freshly erect cock.

She straddled him as he leaned back against the elevator wall.  He gripped her hips and pumped her against him as the orgasm rushed through her and the walls of her sex contracted around him. 

His orgasm came hard and quick as the last of her own climax shuddered through her.  When it was over, she framed his jaw in her hands and lifted his face to hers.  She smiled.  “What the hell was that?”

“That was thinking outside the box.”

“Are you looking for a job in R&D?”

He grinned.  “Maybe.  Would I have to sleep with you to get it?”

“Possibly.”  She kissed him then, sweetly at first and then with a ferocity that she didn’t know she possessed.  He responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close until her naked breasts pressed against his chest and she felt his cock stir inside her.  She broke away and sucked in a fortifying breath.  “Definitely.”

He lowered his head and peppered a few kisses across her breasts.  “I think we should meet and talk about it some more.”

He sucked on her nipple, laved it with his tongue.  “Over dinner?” He nuzzled her chest, his day’s worth of beard rasping her delicate skin.

“Mm,” she murmured.  “How about over breakfast?”

“Do you cook, too?”

“I make a mean eggs Benedict.”

“Perfect. You’re hired.”

* * * * *

When the elevator finally ground to life, Carrie and Gray stood before the doors, dressed and pressed, and looking for all the world as if they’d sat and worked on their laptops for the last hour.  The numerical display glowed brightly and informed them that their little fantasy was almost at an end. 

At the tenth floor Carrie, her eyes fixed straight ahead, blurted out, “I have a confession to make.”

“Mm hmm?”

“I’ve had my eye on you for a long time.”

He said nothing. 

“You’re cute and you’ve got a great body, and from what I could see you were reasonably intelligent, but you always kept your distance.  I always figured it was the whole Ice Queen image, but...” She stalled, anxious about what needed to follow.

“I’m flattered,” he said, “but so far this isn’t what I would exactly call a confession.”

“I don’t really have claustrophobia.”

He said nothing and she turned to study him.  He was grinning.  “I know.  I knew the whole time.”

She blinked in surprise.  “Really?”

“Uh huh.  I just have one question.”

“Yeah?”

“How much did you have to pay Larry to set this up?”

She sniffed.  “A dozen donuts and poker lessons.”  She grinned at him as the elevator approached the lobby.  “He drives a hard bargain, but it was worth it.  I think I came out on top.”

“I disagree.”  He pecked her on the cheek just as the doors slid open.  “I think I did.”