***

Sarah sat behind her desk and rubbed her aching temples. Every time she thought about her actions last night she winced as if they caused her more pain. What had she been thinking to go out and try to make Falon jealous? The man obviously had a heart of stone and a libido kept tightly in check. How was she supposed to seduce Falon if he was locked up tighter than Fort Knox? Deciding that these were thoughts for a few aspirin chased by a strong cup of coffee, she headed for the kitchen.

“You look like hell.”

“Good morning to you too,” she grumbled without looking up as she poured another heaping spoonful of sugar into her mug.

“Please tell me it’s not just the tequila that gave you those lovely bags under your eyes.” She shot her a withering look as the other woman came further into the room. “Okay, just the tequila then.”

Sarah felt Marcy studying her as she took a warming drink of her very sweet coffee. Wrinkling her nose as her stomach rolled in protest to the sugar invasion, she conceded she probably should have taken it light on the sweet stuff.

“So, Falon really has nothing to do with this?” Marcy asked in disbelief as she made a show of examining Sarah’s rather unkempt appearance.

“I … don’t think so,” she mumbled into her mug. When Marcy put her hands on her hips and took her do-I-need-to-kick-a-dude’s-ass stance, she figured she ought to clarify.

“It’s not what you think,” she began while placing her mug on the counter where she eyed its contents longingly. All she wanted was a cup of coffee. Instead, she got the Marcy Monroe version of the Spanish Inquisition. She should have known better than to step foot out of her office today unless it was in the direction of the nearest exit.

“The last thing I remember about last night is him telling me to go upstairs and he’d be right up with a glass of water.” She shrugged. “I woke up under the covers and fully clothed at about four this morning.”

What she didn’t tell her friend was that Falon had obviously been in her room because on her nightstand sat a glass of tepid water and two aspirin. Nor did she tell her about the delicious dream that rocketed her into consciousness. They were filled with hot kisses and Falon’s talented hands. She suppressed the shudder of desire that shot through her. Some things were better kept to oneself, or at least between the participants in the dream. She wouldn’t mind finding out if Falon was as talented as his dream persona had been. She shook off the memories before things got embarrassing.

“Anyway, I’m here now with a headache the size of a small country, a mouth that feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls, and I have to spend the next six hours with nothing but a flimsy wall separating me from a potentially embarrassing situation.” She huffed and picked her mug of cooling coffee back up.

“Why would it be embarrassing?” Marcy asked, leaning her hip against the counter. Sarah forgot Marcy was tenacious when the situation called for it. Apparently this was one of those situations.

“I got a little tipsy last night, remember?”

“I would say a little more than tipsy.” Marcy snorted. “Why did you drink last night anyway?”

She felt herself blush as she shifted from one foot to the other. Should she tell the woman what she was up to and risk Falon finding out? Could she really keep it to herself much longer? She eyes Marcy again. Maybe she could be of some help …

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she said, lowering her voice. “But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not even Frank.”

Something in her voice must have conveyed how urgent it was that whatever she had to say not get out because Marcy suddenly looked very serious. It was either that or the woman was just looking for a juicy tidbit of gossip. Even if she couldn’t share it with anyone else, Marcy loved being in the know. After a beat of silence, Marcy promised to keep her lips sealed and she let loose the whole twisted story of her past interaction with Falon—though she may have edited a few things, her surprise at discovering him here and her plan to break him free from the shell of his rigid control.

Marcy stood silently through her whole story looking thoughtful. When Sarah finally ran out of words, she could only give her a helpless shrug. “I know it sounds crazy, but it drives me nuts that he has changed so much. You should have seen him back then, Marcy. If you think he’s hot now … Off. The. Charts.”

“What do you want me to do?” Marcy’s question surprised her. She had planned on asking her for advice, but she didn’t think that Marcy would go out and offer it. But now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“After last night and the way Falon kept a lid on it, I don’t know what to do.” She looked at the other woman helplessly. She truly didn’t know what move to make next.

Marcy threw her head back and laughed. “You actually think the man kept his cool last night?” More laughter. “My dear, sweet, Sarah. He was nearly crazy with jealousy! Why do you think he threw that guy out of the club?”

“Because it was the nice thing to do?”

“Would he honestly do the ‘nice’ thing?” Marcy snorted and she realized she was right. Falon would never go out of his way to be nice, at least not now anyway. The old Falon was a whole other story.

“I suppose not,” she finally said to get Marcy to stop laughing.

“From what Frank tells me, the man was practically chomping at the bit to hunt you down and rip you from the arms of whatever unlucky man had the pleasure of dancing with you.”

“But we weren’t dancing with anyone.” They hadn’t been. Marcy had told her that she liked to drag Frank to places like the club they visited last night to build anticipation and make him feel manly, somehow. Sarah didn’t get it, but whatever worked for them.

“I know that, and you know that. But he didn’t know that and let me tell you, Mr. Falon Wolfe was none too happy about the idea of another man laying hands on you.”

“Okay, but how does that help me now? I still have the drunken incident to work around, remember?”

Marcy waved her off. “Nothing a man can’t get over with a little teasing. Let me let you in on a little secret …”

For the next twenty minutes, Sarah and Marcy hatched a plan to get Falon squirming in his well-tailored suits and hopefully got her one step closer to her goal. When she was leaving the kitchen, Marcy stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Tell me one thing,” Marcy said, looking slightly troubled.

“Sure.” She was a little concerned about her friend’s change in mood. What if she went back on her word?

“Are you going to sleep with him?” She was speechless for a moment. Was she going to sleep with him? She hadn’t thought about it. She knew she wanted him to wake up and stop acting like a robot. She also knew that deep down a part of her wanted to feel the way he made her feel one more time. So yeah, maybe she was.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Just be careful. I have a feeling this guy has the power to hurt you, and if things don’t go your way I don’t want to have to track him down and hurt him.”

Sarah gave Marcy a shaky smile. The woman kept surprising her with how much she seemed to care. With a quick nod of understanding, she headed back in the direction of her office to attempt to get some work done. With the thoughts of Falon and what Marcy had suggested she do swirling around her head, she doubted she would get much done beyond staring at a blank computer screen.

Five had rolled around before she knew it and she still hadn’t talked herself into anything Marcy had suggested. Just thinking about it caused her to blush. Shutting down her computer, she decided to leave it for another day. She couldn’t be that appealing today anyway. She felt like she had been rolled in grime and was almost positive her breath still carried traces of alcohol. Hot. Sarah ran her tongue over her fuzzy feeling teeth. What she really needed was a toothbrush and her bed.