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Metallic skyscrapers reached to the stratosphere. Pictures of Marley flashed through his mind. Those haunting emerald eyes filled with lust gazing up at him. That incredible body bending over at his request, showing off her assets to their best advantage.
    His cock stiffened, strained against his pants. He loved how she gave herself to him, allowed him to have his way with her. And that adorable cream mustache she sported after drinking her milk. Such a good little girl.
    Moving away from the window, he shook his shoulders and tried to focus his brain on something else. Picking up the latest sales numbers off his desk, he read them without comprehension. His thoughts drew him back to Marley.
    It was unfortunate a girl like her had to do that for a living. It never bothered him before—the working girls. But there was something about her. She wasn’t just a nameless, faceless bimbo to him. A pang of guilt hit him in the gut. Was he a jerk for being so callous to the long line of prostitutes that had darkened his door?
    Damn that Marley for making them human! But she was human, too special to be used by an endless number of men. Men who wanted her for their own pleasure with no regard for hers. He knew men like this. Perhaps he’d been one of them.
    He had a younger sister. He would kill any man who treated his sister, Anna, that way. Marley brought out his protective nature. He wanted to take her in his arms and shield her from all of life’s evils.
    But that was ridiculous. She was just another girl who had gotten to him with those big green eyes of hers. She was a prostitute, he reminded himself, schooled in the ways of manipulating men to get what she wanted. He wouldn’t let himself be played again. Better not to see her again.
    He sat down at his desk, rapping his fingers on its cool, polished surface.
    Maybe if he saw her again, he would learn something about her he didn’t like. Then he could forget about her and move on with his life.
    He called Milton and asked him to track her down.
    Good. He’d done something to move the situation forward. Abandoning work for the day, he headed for the indoor swimming pool in the basement of his building. Maybe exercise would clear his head.
     
    * * *
     
    A week later, Marley opened the door of her new apartment to find James standing on the other side of it.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore an old t-shirt and short jeans shorts. Paint smudged her arms and face, and she held a wet roller in her hand. “Hang on. I don’t want to drip this on the carpet.” She set the implement in a tray filled with creamy bright yellow.
    “Have to admit I was hoping for a friendlier greeting.” It had been difficult enough to find her. When Milton had no success, James hired a private investigator. It had taken the P.I. several days to find her. Days where James stayed distracted at work, tapping his foot awaiting news.
    “Sorry.” She looked him up and down. “I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t like surprises.” She frowned.
    “Okay. I get that.” Now he felt stupid. What was he doing here? How could he explain it to her without sounding like a lovesick puppy dog or a stalker? He hated feeling like a fool.
    Confidence. He had to suck it up and be confident. “I wondered if you might have lunch with me.”
    “Lunch? I’m kinda in the middle of something.” She gestured to the half-painted room.
    “I see that. How ‘bout I help you? And then we go?”
    “Really? Dressed like that?” She lifted an eyebrow.
    He was wearing dress slacks and one of his best shirts. He’d taken off his tie in the car. “I can change. I’ve got my gym bag in the car.”
    “I’ve only got one roller…”
    “Why don’t I go get another roller, change, and I’ll be back in a few?” He sounded desperate, even to himself. This was not how he intended this to go. But he didn’t want to come across as though he thought he was too