“What?” I wiped at my cheek with the napkin in my other hand. “Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

“Just surprised you eat more than one slice of pizza.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying I shouldn’t eat more than one?”

He held up his hands. “Not at all. That wasn’t a weight comment.”

“Then what did it mean?”

Bennett shook his head. “Nothing. Just something a friend of mine said about girls who actually eat.”

“I grew up eating a bowl of pasta as a side dish. I can eat.”

I caught Bennett’s eyes doing a quick sweep over my body, as if a comment was about to come, but then he shoved more pizza into his mouth.

“So what’s the deal with Marina?” I asked. “She rattled off a detailed inventory of the food she has in the fridge to let me know she’ll be very aware if anything goes missing.”

Bennett slumped into the couch. “I accidentally ate her lunch two years ago.”

“You thought her lunch was yours and ate it by mistake?”

“No. I knew it wasn’t mine. I don’t bring lunch. But I was working really late one night and thought it was Fred’s in accounting, so I ate it. It was one goddamned peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and now I’m accused of stealing her stapler or something every other week.”

“Well, I hear the rate of recidivism for first-time lunch thieves is pretty high.”

“I made the mistake of telling Jim Falcon. Now every once in a while, he swipes something off her desk and plants it on mine. He thinks it’s funny, but I’m pretty sure she’s about three paperclips away from poisoning my coffee.”

“Something tells me she isn’t the only woman to feel that way about you.”

***

Once we put the pizza away, the two of us couldn’t agree on anything.

First we took turns sharing our loose ideas for the Venus Vodka campaign. The company had solicited a full branding pitch for their latest flavored-vodka product. We needed to come up with a cohesive package: proposed product names, logo ideas, taglines, and an overall marketing strategy. Not surprisingly, my ideas and Bennett’s were a mile apart. All of my suggestions had a feminine ring. All of Bennett’s were masculine.

“Men ages eighteen to forty drink the most alcohol,” he said.

“Yes. But this is flavored vodka. Honey flavored. The primary drinkers of flavored alcohol are women.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to paint the bottle pink and sell it with a straw inside.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that. But Buzz isn’t a girly name.”

“It is when you add a bumble bee on the label. If the branding is too feminine, men aren’t going to pick the bottle up to carry to the register.”

“Are you serious? You’re really suggesting that if something is too feminine, men aren’t going to pick it up?”

“I’m not suggesting it. It’s a fact.”

We’d been arguing for the last half hour. If we were going to get anywhere working together, we needed to spend less time trying to sell the other one and more time coming up with ideas. I sighed. What a shame. I really loved Buzz vodka with a bee on the label. “I think we need a system.”

“Of course you do,” Bennett mumbled.

I scowled. “We each get three vetoes. If one of us invokes veto power, that means we think the concept is wholly unworkable, and there is no point in trying to shape it into a campaign. If one of us vetoes, we have to immediately move on and not try to debate why it’s a good idea.” I looked at my watch. “It’s a quarter to eight already. We could spend all night arguing.”

“Fine. If it gets you to give up on your bee campaign, let’s do it.” Bennett looked down at his watch. “And it’s seven fifty-one, not quarter to eight.”

Yep. Another eye roll.

Bennett decided to play some Ms. Pac-Man to try to clear his head. I needed to relax a little to get into brainstorming mode, too. So I slipped off my heels and stood. Pacing helped me think. I shook out my hands as I walked.

“Honey vodka…honey flavor. Sweet. Sugar. Candy.” I began to run through word associations aloud. “Syrup. Hive. Bzz. Bzz. Fuzzy. Yellow.”

“What the hell are you doing?” The sound of his Pac-Man being gobbled punctuated his sentence.

I stopped. “Trying to clear my mind and start thinking fresh.”

Bennett shook his head. “Your yapping is doing the opposite of clearing mine. I’ve got a better idea for you.”

“What? Run home and shower?”

He reached into the box he’d carried in for me and took out the sealed, unlabeled bottle that Venus had sent over with the RFP. Then he dug two little shot glasses out of his pocket.

I’d thought he was kidding earlier when he said he bought them in preparation for our brainstorming session.

“We need to sample the product. Nothing like a little alcohol to clear your mind.”

Chapter 9

* * *

Bennett

Annalise O’Neil was a lightweight.

We’d only done two shots—for research purposes, of course—and already her demeanor had changed. She waved her pointer finger in the air. The only thing missing was a light bulb in a bubble above her head. “I got it. Me so honey.”

She pronounced the honey so it sounded like horny. Then proceeded to crack herself up.

I liked drunk Annalise. “That’s actually a damn good idea.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Except it’s already taken.”

“Nooooo.”

“Yep. There’s a pale ale named Me So Honey. It’s actually pretty good.”

“You’ve tasted it?”

“Of course. How could I pass a beer with that name and not bring it to my buddy’s? Who hasn’t brought a bottle of Ménage à Trois wine to a party for the same reason?”

Annalise kicked her bare feet up on the coffee table. “Me! I’ve never bought it.”

“Well, that’s because you’re uptight.”

Her eyes went wide. “I am not uptight.”

“So you’ve had a ménage à trois, then?” It was fun screwing with her.

“No. But that doesn’t make me uptight.”

I leaned forward and poured two more shots of vodka. Annalise hesitated, but I nudged. “One more. It’ll help clear your mind.”

She’d made a face after the first two shots. But this one went down smooth. Yep. Annalise was definitely a damn lightweight.

She slammed the empty shot glass down on the table a little too hard. “Ménage à blah. I was dumped once for not wanting to swing.”

My brows jumped. Totally not what I expected to come out of her mouth. “Your boyfriend wanted you to sleep with another guy?”

“Yep. In my first year of college. And of course, he’d get to sleep with another woman.”

I sucked back my shot. “That never appealed to me. I’m not big on sharing a woman.”

Annalise snort-laughed. “Maybe you should date me. That’ll make you want to sleep with other women.”

I let that comment sink in a minute before responding. Did she just tell me she sucks in bed? “Ummm…come again?”

She cackled so hard she tipped over on the couch. I had no idea what the fuck she was laughing about, but I started to laugh, too. Watching her loosen up and be amused at her own comments was pretty damn funny.

When her tipsy giggle fit subsided, she let out a wistful sigh. “Men suck. No offense.”

I shrugged. Men do suck, especially me. “None taken.”

“Sorry. I think the shots went to my head.” She sat up straight and smoothed out her hair. “Let’s get back to brainstorming. My brain took a detour, apparently.”

“Oh no you don’t. You can’t just drop that dating you makes men sleep with other women and move on. I’m a man, remember? I suck. I can’t move on from that without an explanation. Are you bad in bed or something?”

Annalise forced a smile, but it was a pretty damn sad one. “No. At least I don’t think so. I’ve been told I’m good at…” She looked down and then back up under those thick lashes. “…certain things. I just meant because I got dumped for declining swapping once and now…my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…Andrew and I…we’re on a break.”

That answer had a lot of information in it, but I couldn’t get past certain things.

Was she flexible?

Give great head?

I once knew a woman who did this amazing thing with my balls…

I swallowed. Fuck.

“Ummm… You’re right. We should get back to work. Excuse me for a minute.” I abruptly got up and went to the bathroom to splash water on my face. A few minutes later I’d managed to wrangle my thoughts away from what talents Annalise might have.

Returning to the bullpen, I took a seat across from her. “How about Wild Honey? Men and women both respond well to the word wild. We can market by some association with the name—wild parties, wild adventures, wild animals.”

Annalise seemed to ponder my suggestion for a while. At least that’s what I’d assumed she was doing until she spoke.

“You’re a guy. What does on a break really mean to you?”

Shit. Do I answer that honestly or tell her what she wants to hear?

“Veto.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “What?”